Underneath
What's going on underneath #
Three things that tend to sit under the words.
Some people are wary of anything new, or worry about being bad at it in front of someone they care about.
For some, it came from a couple in the family who did everything together: the same walks, the same films, the same arguments about the cricket.
Underneath, a rule can sit: “If they cared, they'd want to share what I love,” or “Not liking my things means not liking me.”
Reactions
What people often do #
- Stop suggesting the things you love, and keep them separate
- Go along to their things, hoping for a turn later
- Do the hobby with a friend who loves it too
- Make the idea smaller and easier, to get a yes
- Keep a quiet tally of whose plans the weekends follow
The deck
The story in 6 cards #
Six short cards, from the moment to letting go.
'Not really my thing'
Saturday morning in Dublin. You ask your partner to come to the pottery class you love, just once. They laugh and say 'not really my thing', and go back to the football. You go on your own. The class is good, as always, but you keep glancing at the empty stool beside you, and a small, lonely feeling follows you home on the bus.
They should try what you enjoy
Underneath sits a rule: 'My partner should try things I enjoy.' It sounds fair. You'd happily try their things, after all. But look at what it does: it makes your hobbies feel half finished until they join in. Something that used to be pure fun starts to carry a quiet disappointment, and your own enjoyment starts waiting for their company.
Why sharing what we love matters
We hold it because sharing what we love feels like sharing who we are. Maybe you've imagined doing things side by side, laughing at your wonky pots. Maybe you've gone to their matches and hoped they'd return the favour. Either way, wanting them to try isn't pushy. It comes from wanting closeness in the things you love. That deserves kindness, not blame.
The shine each refusal takes
Each 'not really my thing' takes a little shine off. You stop inviting them. You stop mentioning the class at all, even when it went well. You keep a quiet tally of what you've tried for them. The hobby you loved starts to feel slightly lonely, and sometimes you skip it altogether, because going alone reminds you of the empty stool beside you.
Is needing them along worth it?
Ask yourself honestly: has hoping they'll join ever made your hobby more fun? Or has it mostly taken some of the fun away? People enjoy very different things, and not wanting to try something isn't always about the person asking. Either way, their 'no' isn't the measure of what your hobby is worth. Is holding this rule so tightly worth what it takes from you?
Fun, shared or not
Letting go doesn't mean you stop inviting them now and then. It means your hobbies no longer need them there to be complete. The pottery class was good. Your pots are yours. You can enjoy it fully, on your own, every single week. That's where some peace comes back: the things you love become pure fun again, shared or not.
Being pushed into things, checked on, put down, threatened, hurt, pressured about sex or frightened of them is something else, and worth taking seriously; staying careful can be the safe choice.
The flip
The old rule, and a new one to try #
The old ruleThey should try the things I enjoy.
A new rule to tryMy hobbies are fun, shared or not.
Three small days
Try it for 3 days #
- Day 1
Do one thing you love this week, just for you
- Day 2
Enjoy it fully, without looking at the empty seat
- Day 3
Remember one thing you two do enjoy together
Want to talk it through?
“Who first shared a love of something with you, and what was it?”
Free and private. No sign-up to start. The chat opens with this question.
Everything this deck knows
Go deeper #
What it sounds like, where it comes from, what it costs, and other ways to see it. Every question opens a chat on it.
How it lands
What was said
Your hobby, still on the “one day” list #
“My partner should try things I enjoy.” It can come up when an idea for a Saturday gets a shrug: the pottery class, the trek, the old film you love, the street-food market across town. Meanwhile, their football, their games, their shows fill the weekend easily.
For some people it isn't about turning the other person into a fan. It is about one try: being curious enough to come along once, so the things that light you up become part of the shared life, not a separate one.
Which thing you love would you most enjoy showing someone close to you, and what would you show them first?Talk about this ›
The first few seconds
The shrug, and what follows it #
Some people notice a little deflation when an idea is waved away before it has been heard properly. Others notice themselves already shrinking the idea, making it smaller and easier, before they even suggest it.
These reactions can come in a second, long before any thought about whether the other person is shy of new things, tired, or simply unsure. Wanting to share and not wanting to push can arrive together.
The last time an idea of yours got a shrug, what did you notice in yourself first, and where?Talk about this ›
Why it lands
Sharing what you love is a way of being known #
It makes sense to want this. The things someone loves often say a lot about who they are: what calms them, what makes them laugh, what they were like at fifteen. Having someone close try those things, even once, can feel like being seen.
Some people are wary of anything new, or worry about being bad at it in front of someone they care about. That doesn't make the wish smaller; it only means a no to the hobby may not be a no to you.
What does it mean to you when someone you love takes a real interest in something you enjoy?Talk about this ›
The voice inside
The voice with the shrugged-off idea #
“They never even try.” “I always go to their things.” “Next time I won't suggest it.” The voice tends to speak while scrolling past an event you'd love, or on the way to yet another of their plans.
Some people notice the voice is not keeping score for its own sake. It is often asking whether the things that make them who they are have a place in the shared life, and whether curiosity runs both ways.
When the voice says “they never even try”, what is the one thing it would most like them to try?Talk about this ›
Where it comes from
Where it can come from
Where the picture of shared interests came from #
For some, it came from a couple in the family who did everything together: the same walks, the same films, the same arguments about the cricket. That picture can make separate weekends feel like something missing.
Others grew up where their interests were brushed aside, and hoped a close relationship would finally make room for them. Either path can make one shared try matter a great deal.
Who first took a real interest in something you loved, and what did they do that made it feel good?Talk about this ›
The belief under it
The rule about trying #
Underneath, a rule can sit: “If they cared, they'd want to share what I love,” or “Not liking my things means not liking me.” The spoken wish is about hobbies; the rule decides how each shrug is read.
There is real sense in it; curiosity about each other's worlds is a fair hope. The rule can also tie the hobby so tightly to the relationship that a plain dislike of pottery starts to feel like a judgement.
Some people can trace a rule like this to a time their interests were brushed aside; some can't.
When does the rule about trying fit you, and when does it ask a hobby to carry too much?Talk about this ›
What it costs
What it costs
What waiting for a try can cost #
It can mean favourite things put on hold, weekends shaped around one person's tastes, and ideas shrunk before they are even offered. The things that once lit you up can start to feel like private habits rather than part of life.
Over time, some people notice they do less of what they love at all, waiting for company that doesn't come, and the hobbies drift. The pleasure that was always theirs can get set aside along with the wish.
Which thing you love would you most like to make more room for, and what would that look like?Talk about this ›
If it stays as it is
Weekends, years on, shaped by one set of tastes #
Picture a Saturday some years ahead, with “they should try things I enjoy” still running in the background. A picture only, nothing to fix.
Perhaps planning the Saturday around their hobby and putting yours on the “one day” list; a class you meant to book; an old film you'd love to see again, still unwatched.
A sketch, never a forecast, and it can be closed at any point.
What does it hold: their plans, your ideas, the event you scrolled past, the hobby gear in the cupboard?Talk about this ›
How does that Saturday unfold, morning to night?Talk about this ›
From a step back, which part of that Saturday would you most like to spend on something of your own?Talk about this ›
Another way to see it
Another way to see it
Interest comes in more than one form #
Some people join in; others show interest by asking how it went, remembering the names, or making space in the week for the hobby without coming along. Some never quite manage curiosity about it at all, and that gap is real.
None of that makes the wish too much. It only means “try things I enjoy” can hold several hopes: one try, a real question about it, room in the week, or simply not having it waved away.
Inside “try things I enjoy”, which piece would mean the most: one try, a real question, or room in the week?Talk about this ›
What is already there
What is already there for you #
Beside the shrugged-off ideas, some things are already yours: the things you love doing, a friend who shares one of them, a skill you have built over years, and the particular way your face changes when you talk about it.
These don't replace the wish to share them. Your own interests count on their own terms, shared or not, and the joy in them is yours to keep.
Which thing you love already brings you the most joy, that you'd like to give a little more of your time?Talk about this ›
Making peace
What you love, with or without company #
Making peace with this hope means one shrug doesn't have to decide whether your interests have a place. Basic respect and safety are never “expecting too much”, for you and for them. Trying is never the same as being made to; their tastes are theirs, and nobody should be pushed.
This hope has nothing to do with being checked on, tracked or made to hand over passwords, your phone or messages gone through, money controlled or taken, your papers taken, being kept from friends, family, work or study, being put down, shouted at or blamed for their moods.
Nor with threats, including threats to hurt themselves, you, others or a pet, or to share private pictures, being pushed, grabbed or hurt in any way, pressure about sex or intimacy, or being frightened of them. That is something else, and worth taking seriously; going along or staying careful can be the safe choice.
Being mocked for what you love, or stopped from doing it, belongs with that too. The wish to share your interests is fair, and it can stay.
Picture a Saturday spent on something you love: where are you, and what are your hands doing?Talk about this ›
A truer sentence
A line for the shrugged-off idea #
Some people keep a line beside “My partner should try things I enjoy”: “I'd love to share what I enjoy, and it stays worth doing either way.” The two lines can sit together without arguing.
It may feel a little flat at first; some find it freeing instead. Others change the words until they fit. Any honest version is a good one.
What would your own version be, one that keeps the wish to share and keeps what you love in your week?Talk about this ›
What to let be
One shrug can be one shrug #
A no to the pottery class doesn't have to become a verdict on you or the relationship. Some shrugs can be let go, like a leaflet left on a café table: seen, and left for someone else.
None of that covers being mocked for what you love, checked on, tracked or made to hand over passwords, your phone or messages gone through, money controlled or taken, your papers taken, being kept from friends, family, work or study, being put down, shouted at or blamed for their moods.
The same goes for threats, including threats to hurt themselves, you, others or a pet, or to share private pictures, being pushed, grabbed or hurt in any way, pressure about sex or intimacy, or being frightened of them. That is worth taking seriously, and staying careful can be the safe choice.
Letting one shrug go decides nothing about the wish. It only means the thing you love can still have its place in your week.
If it loosened
If the waiting for a try eased a notch #
Picture the wish held a notch more loosely, and nothing more. The wish to share is still there, and what you love is still yours to do.
Perhaps going to the pottery class with a friend and coming home with a lopsided bowl you love, or an afternoon on the old film with a cup of something good.
Nothing here needs to be said to anyone. Whatever comes up is yours to notice. Next, a look at what making peace with this hope could mean, and what is already there for you.
What is the first change you'd notice, even slightly?Talk about this ›
What would be the first ordinary thing for you?Talk about this ›
Small things to try
Something to try
A few private things to try #
- Pick one thing you love and do it this week, just for you
- Think of a friend who shares one of your interests
- Remember how you first got into something you love
- Notice which of your ideas you shrink before suggesting them
- Look up one event you'd enjoy, for your own pleasure
Private and optional, every one. Start wherever feels easiest.
Pick a question
Talk it through #
Tap one. A chat with Dr. Thoughts opens on that question: free, private, no sign-up to start.
- Who first shared a love of something with you, and what was it?
- Which thing you enjoy makes you feel most like yourself, and why?
- When did someone surprise you by enjoying something you love?
- If waiting for them to try eased a little, how would weekends feel?
- Which thing you love would you like to make more room for, just for you?