"Unless Arthur moves his office out of our house, he can have all 10 rooms to himself," snaps 38-year-old Glenda, the mother of four.
Arthur may be a brilliant architect, but his constant criticism is driving everyone crazy. According to him, the kids are undisciplined and rude. When their 17-month-old daughter dropped applesauce on herself, Arthur launched into an attack on Glenda's mothering. When the older kids squabble, he becomes enraged: "Such domestic mishaps interfere with his creativity, he insists," Glenda explains sarcastically.
Arthur doesn't approve of Glenda's purchases at the grocery store, revises her menus, alters the arrangement of the pots and pans and the furniture -- what little of it they have. Because nothing is ever good enough, they've lived for 15 years in a home that is nowhere near finished, let alone furnished. "Downstairs, we have no window shades and no sofa -- unless you call an old futon covered with a Navajo blanket a sofa. Arthur has yet to see one whose lines, fabric and construction please him," Glenda explains.
Since Arthur opened his own business out of their home three years ago, there has been little peace. And unless he moves back out -- immediately -- Glenda intends to move her family elsewhere.
Arthur, 42, insists it is unfair to expect him to separate his work life, home life and emotional life. In fact, he strongly believes his home is a reflection of his work, and the only way potential clients can truly understand his style. "Clients who walk into my home instantly feel comfortable. They hire me and our communication is greatly enhanced."
Besides, he insists, you can't switch creativity on at 9 a.m. and off at 5 p.m. Recently an idea struck him in the middle of the night, and since his drawing board is right downstairs, in 15 minutes he had a solution to a problem that had plagued him for weeks.
As for Glenda's other complaints, he has ready answers: "If my wife weren't so disorganized, maybe I'd be able to teach my children the beauty of discipline and order." And unlike Glenda, whom he calls an impulsive buyer, Arthur prefers to deliberate and take the time to find a piece that is truly outstanding. "Why buy a sofa simply to possess a sofa?"
Living with a perfectionist
"As far as Arthur is concerned, things are either black or white; there are no shades of gray," explains Jane Greer, a New York marriage counselor. Life can be difficult, if not impossible, with a perfectionist. Not only is it a Herculean task to meet his standards, but decisions and arguments regularly fall into an I'm right/you're wrong mode.
It can help both partners to understand that behind such all-or-nothing thinking is usually some hidden or unconscious doubt or fear. A person may wonder: Am I really any good? Who will love me? Becoming aware of that fear is the first step. For Arthur, choosing a sofa is tied to his image of himself as a successful architect. Once he feels more confidence in himself, he'll be able to focus on what satisfies him and will be able to make these decisions.
In fact, once Arthur moved his office to a midtown building, he discovered that, contrary to his fears, his client base actually grew. (He does, however, still keep a drawing board at home for late-night bursts of inspiration.)
The aim of perfectionists like Arthur is to put you on the defensive. If this happens to you, sidestep confrontation by not reacting defensively. One good tactic is to throw the ball back into your spouse's court:
If he disapproves of the meal you cooked or the groceries you selected, tell him that he can handle those functions from now on. Most perfectionists don't want to do the job. They just want to criticize the way you're doing it.