The Creeping Cookie and Other Tales of Horror

Editor’s Note: Maria is taking a few weeks off to finish a book project. In the interim, we will be rerunning some of her columns, because we really do think they are that good. This weekend’s selection was originally published Dec. 24, 2011. If you have a favorite article of Maria’s you’d like to suggest, please comment below. — Amanda

By Maria Padhila

In 10 years, I’ve read a lot of books with my daughter. She was the type who wanted about 10 picture books before going to sleep (and Go The Fuck To Sleep had not been written yet. As incorrect as it is, I love that book, with its progressively weirder menagerie and shared caretaker despair: “You do so much other amazing shit. Why can’t you just go to sleep?”).

Most of the time I was fine with this — I love reading, and I like the chance to try on different voices, have her point to things, etc. On my lap in the rocking chair with a book is pretty much how she spent about a third of the first four years of her life.

Recently, I gave another big sack of books away — we save the most beautiful and most meaningful ones. But often, as we look the old books over, we wonder what we ever saw in them. One that was read over and over at school, but not so much at home, is If You Give a Mouse A Cookie. It had left both of us with kind of mixed feelings. We veered between thinking the mouse was cute, or scary looking. We ping-ponged between finding his neediness and many requests poignant or overwhelming.

Was the mouse a jerk or was he worth the trouble? Could we see ourselves in him? And where were our cookies?

If you’re not familiar with this classic work, it’s the cautionary tale of a mouse who, when given a cookie, asks for a glass of milk, and then his requests begin to pile on, each to the last, until they reach a height of absurdity. It’s a formula that got played out several times by the author and has been awarded by both acclaim and book sales.

And I found it referenced in an excellent polyamory blog. The Polyamorous Misanthrope really has to be called authoritative. It provides advice, comment and the occasional guest columnist. And most of the wisdom found there can apply to most any relationship. Who doesn’t need to hear, once in a while, things like: “Look out for some warning signs that say that what you’re experiencing is a boundary violation rather than intimacy,” or “Good relationships require good boundaries, no matter what the relationship form”?

The questionable behavior indulged in by the cookie-seeking mouse is addressed in a section on “creeping concessions” or the “if you give a mouse a cookie” syndrome. It’s something I’m seeing happen a little too often, so I’m trying to be more sensitive about it. For instance, I’ve been assuming too often that Isaac knows I’m going to see Chris if I’m going to a ritual or Burning Man event — even though Chris isn’t at every pagan or Burning Man event I go to, there’s usually the possibility.

I don’t always consider this time with Chris, because I’m often involved in something else — like ritual, or healing, or rehearsing singing obscene versions of show tunes in four-part harmony. But to Isaac, it can look like I’m sneaking in extra Chris time.

It works all three ways — I’m not the only one “creeping” here, as the rap songs put it. I’ll think something is just fine with one or the other of them, and then find out I’ve pushed a boundary. Isaac used to do this thing where he’d say he’d be home “at the usual time,” which he eventually felt free to define as anywhere from 6 p.m. to midnight, and then get frustrated and pissy when I asked him to attach a specific number to that. He actually can’t — his work is that unpredictable.

Which is fine — but he has to be willing to say so, and at the very least not be disgruntled when I ask. I need current information from all stakeholders to make an efficient decision (as they say in the so-called adult stories, otherwise known as white papers, which I have to help write all day).

Is the Misanthrope’s tone rubbing off on me? It’s a lot funnier on that blog, for one. The blog is written by the Goddess of Java, a longtime polyamorist and writer. From the About section:

She originally wanted to call the column ‘You’re All Fucking Idiots’ but was persuaded not to, and then renamed it as a nod to a fellow citizen of her home town. … She lived in a group marriage for five years, is a parent to two of the most amazing children that she hasn’t the arrogance to take credit for and has been polyamorous since her mid teens. She has given talks, organized conventions and would be delighted to give more talks on the subjects of life, love and Polyamory if asked.

So I did, sort of. (She doesn’t use the serial comma, and I do. Nuns. She’s also rationalist and atheist and doesn’t much hold with this astrology stuff, but this is not the first time a polyamorist of that persuasion has come under this tent to share their hard-won experience.) I asked the expert to expound a little on the topic of creeping concessions. First, here’s the original blog post:

You know old canard that if you put a frog in a pan of cool water, then gradually heat it, the frog will not notice when the temperature rises to a dangerous degree and will boil to death?

While the literal story is false, the moral of the story has a point. You can agree to one small concession, right? That’s okay. Now if that small concession is treated as a precedent rather than a single exception, [1] someone who is ignoring boundaries is likely to ask for another oh, so small concession that’ll become a precedent, until you’ve found you conceded way the devil more than you ever intended.

You can’t blame this one on the other person, though. You’re responsible for your own boundaries. You’re in control of this one. If you give a concession, be clear whether it’s a precedent or a one-time deal! You’re responsible for communicating your intention, so you can handle this pretty easily when you get into the habit.

And here’s what she said when I asked for a little more advice:

Creeping concessions, in my experience, are one-time concessions or favors that are then established as precedents from then on. Negotiation is different entirely and has to do with setting agreements on a global scale.

Ferinstance:

Joe: Will you pick me up at four in the morning tomorrow?
Maria: Sure.

(Three days later)

Joe: I need you to pick me up at four in the morning tomorrow.
Maria: Sorry, hon, I’ve got a long day and am not going to be able to do that.
Joe: What the hell? You did it last Monday! I thought we’d agreed that you’d pick me up when I asked!

“That’s a creeping concession, though that one is so big and obvious that chances are most people would stop and punch it unless the relationship had gotten so bad that their crazy had become your normal.

Negotiation (emphasis mine) would look like this:

Joe: There are going to be days that I’m not going to be able to predict in advance that I’ll need a ride very early in the morning. Would you be willing to do that?
Maria: I’m going to have to give a conditional yes on that. You see, some days I have to work from eight to eight. On those days, getting up really early is going to seriously interfere with my sleep.
Joe: Crap. I really need a ride those days and the bus doesn’t run that early. I know you like to do the cooking, but would it help if you knew that you’d be able to count on me having dinner on the table those nights?
Maria: I’m willing to try it on a provisional basis for a month or so. If it interferes with my work performance, we’ll need to find something else.
Joe: Okay. Tell you what, we’ll do it for a month, but during that month I’ll cast around for another solution.

(One month later)

Joe: How is getting up early going? I’ve talked to Michael, and he’s willing to pick me up on your twelve-hour days.
Maria: Don’t sweat it. Having dinner on the table when I get home helps enough that I’m willing to go on with it.

“Notice in the negotiation stage, Joe really needs that ride. Maria needs her sleep. THEY BOTH SAY WHAT THEY NEED. Notice Maria is willing to try it provisionally, but gives a time frame. Joe understands the time frame and FOLLOWS THROUGH on a possible alternate solution.

I think the best thing to remember when you’ve gotten in further than you intended is that you do have the right to change your mind about what YOU will do. (Not necessarily what the other person will do).

I think I get it, but I’ll still be poking around the blog for some time to keep my resolve strong. A big part of this for me involves getting away from the Neptunian romantic fog (uh-oh, here she goes into the woowoo! Goddess forgive me?), and maybe Mars in Virgo can give this a boost. Also, both the guys are heavy Virgo – Isaac’s Sun/Moon/Ascendant plus four planets; Chris is in the Uranus/Pluto conjunction in Virgo sliver, that generational quirk that a cluster of notables fall into, and it’s in his first house. This is a cosmic way of saying maybe we can get the schedules straight and the communications clear in the new year. Planning is actually very romantic to me.

I have to also get past the reluctance to plan that’s brought on by the inevitable ‘who’s seeing me more’ struggles it engenders. Putting it on the calendar makes all that we’re doing real — and that cookie tends to be followed by milk and whatever the hell else it leads to. As a Libran, I’m balancing it out, but I also have the blindfold on. That’s something else to think about for the new year.

The solstice is the opposite of balance — depending on what part of the world you’re on, the advantage goes to dark or light, cold or hot. But it pulls the concept of balance into thought — it’s the midpoint between the two most balanced day/nights in the year. A little bit of light creeps in, and a little more; if we choose to engage with the natural cycles, we surrender a little of the darkness, the interiority. I think the trick here is for me to develop this as a transformation rather than an erosion — the sands just shift to another side of the glass; they haven’t been washed away.