#relationship contract

Even though you really hurt me-

injured my ego, disappointed me, and

chose not to see me for who I am

but rather who you thought I should have been-

I never wrote about you.

Not when we met, not during, and not after...

And I pondered why that would be...

I have written about lost love following years spent together,

planning a future that would never be had.

I have written about week-long lovers,

sharing a carnal need for intimacy and escape from loneliness.

I have written about strangers I shared a single glance with,

momentarily reflected in the condensation of a cocktail glass.

But not you.

I think that, perhaps, our love lacked a true passion.

Nothing deep inside us was awoken when we’d see each other.

We didn’t fit a missing space in the other person.

We weren’t head-over-heels infatuated with each other.

We never needed each other.

We sort of just chose to be together.

It was so plain, so matter-of-fact. 

Maybe that’s why it was so easy when you left.

Our love was simply a contract,

bound to expire whenever

either party chose to terminate.

Don’t get me wrong

I loved you, and still do.

I just think, moving forward,

that kind of love really isn’t for me.

By Mandy Len Catron, NY Times, June 23, 2017

A few months ago my boyfriend and I poured ourselves two beers and opened our laptops. It was time to review the terms of our relationship contract.

Did we want to make changes? As Mark and I went through each category, we agreed to two minor swaps: my Tuesday dog walk for his Saturday one, and having me clean the kitchen counters and him take over the bathtub.

The latest version of “Mark and Mandy’s Relationship Contract,” a four-page, single-spaced document that we sign and date, will last for exactly 12 months, after which we have the option to revise and renew it, as we’ve done twice before. The contract spells out everything from sex to chores to finances to our expectations for the future. And I love it.

Writing a relationship contract may sound calculating or unromantic, but every relationship is contractual; we’re just making the terms more explicit. It reminds us that love isn’t something that happens to us--it’s something we’re making together. After all, this approach brought us together in the first place.

Two and a half years ago, I wrote a Modern Love column about how Mark and I had spent our first date trying a psychological experiment that used 36 questions to help two strangers fall in love. That experience helped us to think about love not as luck or fate, but as the practice of really bothering to know someone, and allowing that person to know you. Being intentional about love seems to suit us well.

In the past, expecting a relationship to work simply because the people involved loved each other had failed me. I spent my 20s with a man who knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted to be. All I had wanted was for him to love me.

We were together for almost a decade, and in that time I somehow lost track of my own habits and preferences. If I wanted to split the grocery bill, he suggested I buy only things we both liked. If I wanted to spend weekends together, I could go skiing with him and his friends. And so I did. I made my life look like his.

It wasn’t until I moved out that I began to see that there hadn’t been room for me in my relationship. It wasn’t until the relationship ended, when I was 29, that I discovered what it meant to fully inhabit my days and the spaciousness of my own mind. It was such a joy to find that my time was mine, along with every decision from what to cook to when to go to bed.

When I met Mark, he fit into my life so easily it surprised me. My friends liked him. My dog, Roscoe, yelped with happiness at the sight of him. But when we started talking about living together, I was wary.

I worried that the minutiae of domesticity would change us into petty creatures who bickered over laundry. More than that, I worried I might lose myself again, to a man and a relationship.

Mark had his own reservations. “I don’t want to do it just because it’s what we’re supposed to do,” he said. “I only want to live together if it’ll make our lives better.”

We spent weeks anxiously enumerating the pros and cons of cohabitation.

Months earlier we had come across a book--”The New I Do: Reshaping Marriage for Skeptics, Realists and Rebels”--that recommends short-term marriage contracts. We liked the idea and realized we could take this approach to living together.

Our contract addresses much of what must be negotiated in any relationship, especially when cohabitating. It begins with our reasons for being together: “We aspire to help each other be more ethically-minded and generous friends, community members and global citizens.” I know it sounds idealistic, but I’ve had relationships that left me feeling lonely and small. This time I wanted to be more intentional about looking outward as much as we look in.

The terms range from the familiar (“We will take care of each other when one of us is sick”) to the fanciful (“If we’re both sick, it’s all up to the dog”). In fact, Roscoe gets an entire section, detailing his walking schedules, vet visits and even how sweet we think he is.

We have a houseguest section (guests can stay for up to two weeks but must be mutually vetted) and an item that deals with Mark’s sweaty running clothes (“He agrees to hang these up in the spare room or on the back of the bathroom door but he wants Mandy to know that this may be a fairly common occurrence”).

We agree to split the bill when eating out with one exception: “Special meals (date night, celebrations, etc.) will not be split so one person can treat the other.”

It was important to me to eat breakfast together because this was something my family did growing up, so we put that in writing. It’s amazing how empowering this can feel: to name your desires or insecurities, however small, and make space for them. It’s such a simple thing, but it wasn’t easy. I wasn’t used to knowing what I wanted in a relationship, much less saying it aloud. Now, I have to do both.

We wanted to take nothing for granted, which has meant having the kinds of conversations I previously avoided. Under “Sex and Intimacy,” for example, we wrote that we agree to be monogamous because, right now, monogamy suits us. But we don’t assume it’s what we will always want.

Our contract isn’t infallible, or the solution to every problem. But it acknowledges that we each have desires that deserve to be named and recognized.

As we concluded the recent renewal of our contract, Mark typed a new heading near the end: Marriage. “So what do you think?” he asked, sitting back as if he had just asked where I want to get takeout.

I stared into my beer. This wasn’t the first time we had talked about marriage, but now, with the contract open, it felt official. I squirmed, knowing that part of me wanted to say, “Let’s do it,” while another part wanted to reject the institution altogether and do love and commitment on our own terms.

“What would marriage offer us that we don’t already have?” I asked.

“Good question,” he said.

Finally Mark typed: “We agree that marriage is an ongoing topic of conversation.”

It seemed a trivial thing to put in writing, but talking--instead of just waiting and wondering--has been a relief to us both.

This Observing Limits Agreement (the "Agreement") is entered into between Enviere formerly known as Ubitron ("Enviere") and Jennifer Darlas ("Jennifer") in order to establish a clear understanding of personal limits and the responsibility to uphold them. Both parties agree that setting personal limits is essential for maintaining a healthy and balanced relationship.

1. Personal Responsibility:

1.1 Enviere and Jennifer acknowledge that they are each personally responsible for setting their own personal limits. These limits may be adjusted as needed and may differ for each individual.

1.2 Enviere and Jennifer agree to communicate any changes to their personal limits in a timely manner to ensure open and honest dialogue regarding each party's boundaries.

2. Support During Times of Illness or Distress:

2.1 In instances where one party is ill or experiencing significant distress, both Enviere and Jennifer agree to extend their limits temporarily in order to provide support and aid the other party until their recovery.

2.2 The extension of limits during these circumstances will only be applicable for the duration of the illness or distress, and will be subject to review and reevaluation once both parties have returned to a stable state.

3. Individual Tolerances:

3.1 Enviere and Jennifer recognize that they may have different limits for what they are willing to tolerate from different people in their lives. These limits may vary based on the nature of the relationship or other external factors.

3.2 The parties hereby agree to openly discuss and accept each other's limits with respect and understanding. Any differences in opinion or perceived breaches of limits will be approached with open communication and a willingness to find mutually agreeable solutions.

4. Mutual Understanding and Respect:

4.1 Enviere and Jennifer commit to approaching this Agreement with a shared understanding of the importance of personal boundaries and the need to respect these boundaries for a harmonious relationship.

4.2 Any disputes or concerns regarding the interpretation or application of this Agreement shall be resolved through peaceful negotiations, with both parties striving to reach a mutually satisfactory resolution.

5. Termination:

5.1 This Agreement may be terminated by either party upon written notice to the other party.

5.2 Termination of this Agreement does not absolve either party from the responsibility to respect and observe personal limits in future interactions.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the parties hereto have executed this Observing Limits Agreement as of the effective date first written above.

Enviere formerly known as Ubitron:

___________________________

___________________________

Jennifer Darlas:

___________________________

Limited edition screen prints for Berlin based artist and educator, Otis Kriegel for his participatory art project, RELATIONSHIP CONTRACT / BEZIEHUNGSVERTRAG.

One colour screen print on 90g wood-free offset paper. Paper size is 59.4 x 84.1cm. Edition of 50.