On a Scale of 1 to 10 . . . About 7

Published April 16, 1981. One of the hazards of writing this column is that people are always curious about my marriage. On occasion at a social gathering a reader will ask Susan, “What kind of husband is Brent? Does he really do all those things he writes about?” Susan is very polite and will discretely change the topic.

Susan knows I love her, am committed to our marriage, and try to be a good husband most of the time. But beyond that, she would say I’m just a little above average as a husband on a day-to-day basis.

I knew Susan’s perceptions of me were quite different right from the beginning. The night I proposed to her is a good example.

We were standing by the Seagull Monument on Temple Square (that is how I had planned it), and I dramatically said. “Susan, I love you.” There was a theatrical pause and then I asked, “Will you marry me?”

Tears came to her eyes and at first I thought she was happy. Then as the tears turned to sobs; I knew something was wrong.

Susan had several other suitors, so I politely asked, “Is there someone else?” “There’s got to be,” she cried. Finally I said, “Susan, you’ll never know how much I love you.” (That seemed appropriate.) “Yes,” she replied with a muffled cry, “and I really like you, too, Brent.”

(Really like! What did that mean?) At that time I was a psychology major enrolled in a test and measurements class at college. I had a sudden thought.

“Look, Susan.” I tried to reason, “I appreciate the fact that you really like me but that doesn’t tell me much. On a scale of 1-10, a 1 means you can hardly stand me and 10 means you are ready to get married. Where are you on the scale?”

Again she said, “Brent, I really like you, but . . .” “On a scale of 1-10,” I interrupted. And I will never forget her answer.

She paused and simply replied, “Six!”

After that our relationship numerically rose and fell like the daily stock quotations, but I eventually won out. The day of our marriage I think she was at 9.5, but it didn’t matter. She agreed to go ahead with the wedding anyway.

Since that time we have retained the 1-10 scale in our marriage. A 1 means “poor,” 5 means “average,” and 10 means “excellent.” It helps us know exactly what we both feel in evaluating something.

For example, we went to see the movie “The Competition” the other night. As we left, Susan asked, “Did you like it?” “Between 5 and 6,” I replied. “And you?” “A definite 9,” She answered. And that’s all that was said. We understood each other perfectly.

A few weeks ago, how can I say it, we hadn’t had one of our better days in marriage. And when this happens, Susan has a difficult time hiding her feelings.

I sat down at the dinner table that evening, and she served me a half a pork chop and some leftover peas. “Is something wrong?” I inquired. “No,” she replied, “everything is fine.”

I finished my portion of pork chop in three bites and said, “Look, Susan, I know you are upset at me, so let’s talk about it.”

“Everything’s fine,” she repeated, but I knew it wasn’t. Then I remembered the old 1-10 scale.

“On the scale of 1-10, how do you feel about me right now?” I asked. “Do you really want to know?” she inquired. “Yes, I do,” I said and braced myself for the shock. She paused and said, “Right now it’s about 5 and that’s all things averaged in.”

“You mean I’m below 5 in some areas?” I gasped. “Five maybe 6, and that is it,” she answered. I knew precisely where I stood.

On most days as a husband I seldom see myself below the “10” category. But then Somerset Maugham noted, “Only a mediocre person is always at his best.” Susan will usually rate me somewhere around a 7.

But lest you think I am totally inept as a husband, I do occasionally reach my 9’s. Like tonight, if you called Susan for a quote. I would rate a high 9, bordering on a 10. This evening we are going out for dinner.