Every category you both agree to becomes its own course, with its own grade. Underneath each one is the detail — what is working, what is not, and what your spouse said in their own words.
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Get your report cardGrades work like school. Each answer is worth points, and the average becomes a letter — so a 4.00 is an A+ and the scale runs down from there.
The one everybody starts with, and the one that carries the most detail. It breaks into eight areas of its own, so "we do not communicate well" turns into something specific enough to fix.
You listen well when we are calm. When we are not, I feel talked over.
A hard conversation to start out loud, which is exactly why it works better written down. Both of you have to agree to include it before either of you is ever asked a question about it.
I want to be pursued, not scheduled.
Not how many hours you are in the same room — how much of that time either of you would call time together. This is usually where the phone shows up.
Most evenings we are both on our phones by nine.
Reliability and safety — whether what gets said gets done, and whether it is safe to say the difficult thing. Often the highest grade on a card, and worth seeing when the rest is hard reading.
I have never once worried about where you are.
The daily load, and whether it feels shared. Small, unglamorous, and one of the most common places resentment collects quietly.
I do not want to be the one who keeps the list.
Your spouse answers questions about you, and you answer about them. Neither of you sees the other's grades unless you both choose to share. There is no league table, no comparison, and no notification when a grade drops.
Start freeEvery category is optional, and you both have to agree before one counts.
What's graded →