how to handle rejection in love.
Why Do Small Arguments Ruin Relationships?
A few years ago, I wrote what I believed was the best book ever — a modern classic, the greatest love story told since Titanic. I imagined Netflix adaptations, award nominations, maybe even a Nobel Peace Prize. As I edited each line, formatted the text, and submitted it to my agent, these thoughts genuinely swam through my mind. I wondered how I might handle the overwhelming response to my contribution to humanity.
Spoiler alert: none of the above happened — except for the countless hours of editing and expectation. In reality, my output (the book) didn’t match the response. As the rejection letters poured in, I convinced myself of countless reasons why these editors failed to see my genius. I concluded that their lack of taste had robbed the world of a masterpiece. I used pride to cover the sting of rejection.
I like to believe I handle rejection well, years of putting myself out there have given me pretty thick skin, and I’ve developed a trick. I think Robert De Niro said something along the lines of walking into every audition knowing you won’t get the role. He emphasised that the lack of expectation frees you to take risks. Over the years, I’ve learned to practise detachment in many endeavours, expect for love.
With this book, I let my guard down. It was a new, exciting endeavour that I really wanted to succeed, but more importantly, I now admit to myself: I was insecure. I cared how the world viewed my writing, my capability as an author. It mattered too much, just like love.
I want to be a good partner, a good husband. So when I’m called out on my shortcomings, it hurts, it makes me feel like maybe there’s something wrong with me. When I fight with people I care about, I get defensive. I feel the need to prove I’m a good friend, a good relative, and more importantly, a good husband or father. When my wife accuses me of something, my mind cycles through all the things I do that I think qualify me as good enough. At that point, her accusations feel like challenges. It feel like she is questioning my worth. I’ve tried to detach in the past — the silent treatment, pretending not to care — but when it comes to love, you can’t convince yourself out of it. It’s hard to find neutral ground in a battle for your heart.
The truth is not always easy to accept, especially in relationships. Rejection can blind us to it. Instead of acknowledging our shortcomings or insecurities, we use pride to mask how rejected we feel.
A few weeks ago, I sat in the driver’s seat of our car as my wife rushed in with the kids and barked directions at me. They were running late, and I switched into five-star Uber driver mode, speeding toward what I thought was the correct station. I miscalculated, and after a few minutes heading toward the wrong roundabout, I felt a cold glare to my left, followed by the words: “You didn’t listen, did you? I said *insert station*.”
In my defense, it was an honest mistake, I didn’t know my wife had chosen the other station in our neighbourhood, the one we rarely use. What followed was a classic ‘I told you so’ rant. At first, I didn’t mind. But when I defended myself, it only escalated. My wife demanded that I either drop her and the kids off immediately or let her drive the car instead to the right station. No way was I going to allow that. It felt petty and unnecessary over a small mistake, but it boiled over into a bigger argument.
In the end, I refused to let my wife take the kids by herself and insisted on dropping them at the closest station — even though they were already late. We sat in the car, heated and stone-faced, until I finally dropped my family off.
Firstly, I hate arguing in front of my kids, that definitely added to my stubbornness. But there was another feeling that nagged at the corners of my emotions. It took an hour of driving to my next destination before I finally understood it, and texted my wife. Of course, it was an honest mistake on my part, and her reaction wasn’t completely unjustified. But the moment she asked me to step out of the car, I told her that it felt like she wanted to emasculate me in front of my boys. That was the truth.
The situation pissed me off, but deep down, I felt like my role as a father — my identity — was being undermined. So I lashed out. It wasn’t about right or wrong; it was about how her words hit my pride. I told her this and with that clarity and honesty, we were able to talk it through. We both apologised for our parts in the argument and moved on.
Rejection, or conflict, is only painful if you fight it instead of seeing it as a chance to learn about yourself. If you don’t accept the truth, you end up seeking for validation in other areas.
Fast forward: a few days ago, I stumbled upon my discarded, rejected manuscript and, with fresh eyes, I read it. Without anticipation or hope — and in all honesty, it was pretty bad. I would reject the same story if it landed in my inbox. To my surprise, I didn’t feel awful about it. I felt a sense of relief. I understood that this was not my magnum opus robbed from the world. With more experience, I could see my shortcomings as a novice, but one with room to improve. The idea of redemption is so much more rewarding than the pain of rejection, but you can only believe in redemption if you’re willing to accept where you truly are. I don’t have to be the best in my relationship, I need to be honest with myself. Ask myself, why it hurts and what hurts, instead of trying to prove to myself why it doesn’t matter.