The Seven-Year Itch

You know that famous photo of Marilyn Monroe – iconic of the golden years of the silver screen – trying not-too-hard to hold down her dress against the wind effects of a subway train passing underneath? Well, apparently the film it’s from is a romantic comedy called The Seven Year Itch (1955), which is based on a 1952 play of the same name. I haven’t seen the film, but there’s plenty of fascinating trivia about it on the IMDb page if you’re interested. But I wasn’t planning on writing much about the film (or the play) anyway.

The story is about a man (played by Tom Ewell) who works as a publisher, in the process of publishing a book called The Seven Year Itch, which claims that a significant proportion of men have affairs after seven years of marriage. While his wife and son are out of town, he meets a young woman (played by Monroe). In the play, he has an affair with her, while the (in some ways cleverer) film adaptation sees him merely play out fantasies in his mind as he gets to know her: these fantasies are fleshed out with justifications for his infidelity – he imagines his wife cheating on him, too, and this makes him more comfortable doing the same.

It’s just a story, but it’s one with a grounding in statistics that were being observed even then: that many relationships go through a point at which break-ups and infidelity are more common after about 7 years. A more recent study, published in Development Psychology, indicated that there is another significant point – at least, in contemporary marriages – at which relationships are likely to fail, at about the four year mark. If you draw a graph of the length of time that broken marriages last, there are significant peaks at the four and seven year marks. Less widely-published studies exist (often for the purpose of testing if this phenomenon applies to relationships that do not involve marriage), and generally get similar results. I haven’t seen anything that looked at homosexual relationships, but I’d be interested in such a study if anyone’s seen one.

Several researchers have looked for biological explanations: four years is about the right amount of time (perhaps a little more) that, if a woman was impregnated at the beginning and was breast-feeding the child, she’d be fertile again and potentially looking for a more attractive mate. Conversely, it’s about the right amount of time that a male can be sure that a genetic rival isn’t going to kill his child (or impregnate his female), and can move on. All of these (and many more) theories draw on things we believe we’ve learned about the behaviour of early human societies, which sadly doesn’t amount to much. The seven-year mark is harder to explain.

It’s all quite believable, though, once you exclude the speculation about the reasons for it and look at the statistics. Better yet, find some friends who’ve been in stable relationships for a long while, or who were in long-term relationships but then broke up, and find out the points at which things have been most difficult.

From personal experience: there has only been one point, so far, at which I wasn’t sure if Claire and I were likely to be able to maintain our relationship – shortly after we moved into The Place… and almost exactly four years since our relationship began. We had a particularly rough time of things, which we mostly blamed on the stress of moving house (didn’t get the same thing during the move to The Cottage, though) and various other complications in our lives (none of which caused the same kind of tensions when they repeated themselves, though). Perhaps it was just a combination of factors that gave us that "rough patch," or perhaps it’s something biochemical like the "four-year itch." Perhaps it’s partially that, and partially other things. I’m pretty sure Claire would tell a similar story about these particular couple of emotional months.

Claire and I’s relationship is fabulous now, and we’re actually "better at it," in my mind, than ever before (over the year since that troublesome period, we’ve learned a handful of great relationship maintenance and communication skills we’d not quite got fully worked-out beforehand, perhaps). It’s interesting, though, to look at that "four year" mark (give or take nine months or so) in other people’s relationships. I’ve spoken to a few, and while the line of questioning I’ve been using could be construed as "leading" and certainly wouldn’t pass as scientifically valid, it’s yeilded some interesting stories: some people tell tales of partners or partners of friends who cheated (or whose cheating become obvious) after about four years, or who went through a tough spot characterised by arguments or – more difficult still to deal with – a lack of communication. Others talk about break-ups at about that time, or about starting to them and their partner beginning to drift apart, looking for different things in their relationships.

I just thought it was quite interesting, and I wanted to share that thought with you. But if you’ve got any similar stories from your life or stories you’ve heard from others: let me know.

Dan, Inspired By Hippies, Gets Out Balls

Claire‘s dad and his wife visited us this long Easter weekend, and we took advantage of the stunning weather to do some of the usual touristy things that you only bother to do when friends or family come by – the cliff railway, the camera obscura, etc. – and so we ended up at the nearby Centre for Alternative Technology. The CAT, as it’s better-known to anybody who’s had to say it’s name more than once, has improved over recent years (I last went in 2002 with Claire; the summer we became “a couple”) and I was impressed to see many new exhibits.

Anyway, I’ve picked up a set of ecoballs (looking to buy? they’re cheaper elsewhere): they’re basically plastic balls with a spongy “ring”, filled with pellets of various minerals and surfactants. The idea is that you chuck the three of these (reusable up to 750 times, then refillable) balls into your washing machine instead of detergent and fabric softener, and wash at under 60°C. They’re advertised as being more ecologically-friendly than conventional detergents, but what attracted me to them was that they’re potentially cheaper (about 3p/wash, plus savings on skipping rinse cycles) and non-biological (biological detergents, while wonderful, have a habit of bringing me out in a rash).

Obviously I’ll let you know how they go – whether they’re worth getting – in about 1000 laundry cycles or so, although the BBC correspondent who used them last year might be more use. As far as the “Do they get stuff clean?” question goes, though, the answer would seem to be: yes. We baptised them last night with our bedclothes, and they came out wonderfully clean, although notably lacking that “clean clothes” smell we associate with the perfume of traditional detergents. If I can be bothered, I’ll do a couple of actual scientific tests, comparing washing a particular type of fabric with a selection of stains on it using normal detergents, ecoballs, and just water, and see how it goes. In the meantime, you’ll have to make do with blog-based reviews of individual washes.