How to Say I'm Sorry In a Relationship

There's a Recipe For a Happy Marriage by an unknown author.

1 cup consideration

1 cup courtesy

2 cupsfulls flattery carefully concealed

1 gallon faith and trust in each other

2 cupfulls praise

1 small pinch of in-laws

1 reasonable budget, a generous dash of cooperation

3 teaspoon pure extract of "I'm sorry"

1 cup contentment

1 cup each confidence and encouragement

1 large or several small hobbies

1 cup blindness to the other's faults

Flavor with frequent portions of recreation and a dash of happy memories. Stir will and remove any specks of jealousy, temper or criticism. Sweeten well with generous portions of love and keep warm with a steady flame of devotion. Never serve with a cold shoulder

~Anonymous

The recipe calls for "pure extract of 'I’m sorry.'" It's a rare ingredient. Most couples discerning marriage are well stocked in the other ingredients—praise, consideration, even blindness to the other's faults. But admitting we're wrong usually takes some experience. The more we've practiced it in our other relationships, the better chance we have to be successful in the big time.

Why is it hard to say I'm sorry?

People hesitate to say "I'm sorry" because it costs a lot. We think if we apologize, we'll lose something. It might set a dangerous precedent. People might doubt us next time. We might doubt ourselves. So we use it sparingly.

Or we go for a synthetic substitute. Yeah, it's not pure extract of "I'm sorry" but it's close enough. We think maybe the recipe for a happy relationship will still work. The proof of the pudding is in the eating.

Here are a few of the substitutes currently on market shelves. Are any of them in your pantry?

The Pre-insult Apology: "Sorry to say this but..."

This is when we have something bitter to add but we hope the person won't taste it. The person always does even if they smile and act like they don't.

Related is the Excuses Apology: "I know I shouldn't have said that but..."

This is for when we've put too much acidity in the mix and we know it spoiled things but we feel we had no alternative.

The It Wasn't Me; It was Fate Apology: "I happened to push her wrongly."

Kids feed you this straight up, hoping to impress you with their complete innocence.

The Political Apology: "Mistakes were made."

This main course is often garnished with: "Be assured that steps are being taken to ensure the finding of the true culprits."

The Campaign Trail Apology: "I now disagree with the choice that I made."

Here we have competing flavors trying to strike a balance.

The Whipped Cream on Top Apology: "I'm sorry you felt offended."

This one is quite pretty but it's all sugar and no substance. For a split second it gets the person interested. An apology that starts with "I'm sorry!" But then, it turned the whole thing back on them. They are the one who is wrong for being offended and in fact are responsible for this regretful state of affairs. It leaves a lingering after-taste.

We've probably all served these knock-off brands and we've definitely all tasted them. How right they seem when we're the ones using them: "You better like this; it's all I've got." Yet how unsatisfying they are when someone serves them to us. "Did you think I wouldn't notice that you are trying to fake me out?" It's worse than getting no apology at all.

How to train for the proper use of I'm sorry

Fortunately, there is a place we can all go to train in the proper use of pure extract of "I'm sorry." It's called the sacrament of confession.

People have often challenged us Catholics on why we confess our sins to a fellow sinner instead of just privately to God Himself in our hearts. Why this go-between?

Among many reasons, Jesus gave priests a share in His power to forgive sins so that we'd benefit from saying our particular sins aloud to another person. We accuse ourselves—not of some vague sinfulness ala "I'm a sinner" but of a particular ugly act: "I shoved my sister." We can say "I'm a sinner" with no real damage to our self esteem. In fact, it makes us feel like "one of the boys" or "one of the girls." We're not uptight. We're fun!

But admitting to a particular ugly act does not make us feel smug. That's why most of us prefer a little dark box and a priest who can't see us for the purpose. Once inside, we are supposed to tell only our own sins and not the sins of others even if they "caused" us to sin. This isn't to say that we can't give any background information. We just can't use it to deflect our own share of the blame.

Try telling a story that way anywhere else. "Here's the other person's side of it." Not happening.

Lots of people hate the idea of confession but those who practice it frequently love it. What is worse—to know our own sins by name so that we can avoid them in the future or to have an unaddressed heap of sins piling up which we hope nobody else notices? Of course they do.

If you want a happy marriage, or any great relationship, Confession is a great way to cultivate your pure extract of "I'm sorry."

Meanwhile, if any of those substitute apologies are lurking in your pantry past their expiration date, throw them out. They'll make relationships fall flat every time.

Use only pure extract of "I'm sorry" from now on. Accept no substitutions.