Playing by the Rules

My sons have invented a game between them that, because they are boys, involves one hitting the other in the arm as hard as possible. Often. Repeatedly. However, because it is a game, they have also created rules that clearly define when one may hit the other, where, and how hard, and what the consequences are if these rules are not followed. Also, because they are both cognizant of these rules, no matter how limp the affected arm might be after repeated assaults, neither boy complains. They just nod after the strike and muster up a strained “Good hit!”

Rules are important, and where none exist, people desperately scramble to create them. A group of children on a playground, with little or no exposure to the red tape and bureaucracy that will plague them as adults, will spontaneously and organically create the fundamentals necessary to keep order amongst them. Toddlers have intricate and firm boundaries that involve awareness of toys and implied ownership thereof. Those who don’t follow the rules are either outcasts or leaders.

So it is with adults as well, except those who don’t follow the laws become criminals or politicians.

I digress.

I was having cocktails (no more than two – it’s a rule of mine) with some friends recently, and we were discussing the creation of bylaws around local gambling in private clubs. One of my friends in attendance said that the singular function of government seems to be to enact laws where none had previously existed, nor were necessary. While I agreed with him about the creation of formal decrees, there are always the unwritten rules, even if no one clearly understands them.

Rules are rules, and they govern every area of our lives. Rules will determine if a relationship thrives or perishes. How many new romances have been dashed because one or the other of the young lovers cried out, “Why isn’t he playing by the RULES?” However, knowing all the commandments of intercommunication will not guarantee success. I’ve spoken to many a baffled man as he struggled valiantly to understand the rules of dealing with women. Some of them were certain that there simply were no rules, while I patiently explained that there are rules, but that they are fluid and change on a whim. Woe to the man who can’t keep up with them. Women, too, are perplexed by men who seem to have a genetic inability to follow the simple standards of getting along well in a relationship: That when a man says he’s going to call, the only acceptable excuse for not doing so is that his dialing fingers have actually exploded and dialing with his nose resulted in several wrong numbers. That the toilet seat is to be down after each use. That ogling the waitress is not okay. That muscle shirts are inappropriate for every social occasion.

Problems arise between people because our rules differ. Cultures clash as one country tries to create rules for the other. We all want to be Lord of the Flies. And regardless of whether or not new rules make sense, most people are afraid to let go of the rules with which they are familiar. We know our rules. We understand them. Dysfunctional though they may be, we will hold our antiquated, irrelevant rules close to our hearts, call them George, and promise never to let them go. Which is why the Battle of the Sexes will never end: We just don’t like the rules of the other side. Each is determined that, through wiles or warfare, peace will only exist once the enemy (and dearest object of our affections) is conquered and accepts the rules.

Until then, we must muddle through as best we can, giving here, taking there, and ruling our own little corners of the universe. We make and break our own rules as we try to understand the rules of another and, sometimes, even adopt them as our own. And adopt them we must if ever we are to reach détente. For once a peaceful negotiation has allowed for compromise and a new, understood set of rules, a new generation can be born.
They in turn will grow into childhood and create rules of their own which will affect when and how hard one child may hit his or her sibling.

Madame Fabulous–otherwise known as MadFab (more fab than mad)–has been a professional writer, actor, director, producer, occasional photographer and painter for most of her adult life. Her mother would argue that she’s been a drama queen from the get-go, however. She is a mother to three: Alexa, Theo and Ethan who she blames for the eternal house messiness, the ongoing pantry emptiness, the perpetual head-shaking oddness and the lifelong happiness. She was very recently married to the man who, for the record, she totally pegged as “That Guy” from the start.

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Tagged as: Madame Fabulous, negotiations, Relationships, Rules, sibling smack down