THE ATM, THE ZIPPER, AND MARRIAGE

By Herman M. Lagon

I am probably the wrong person to write about relationship hacks. If marriage were a subject in school, I would hesitate to show anyone my report card. I have made enough mistakes to qualify less as a model and more as instructional material under “Please do not try everything this man has tried.”

Maybe that is why some recent advice from former Department of Agriculture and CHED Commissioner Dr. William Medrano stayed with me. It came rather casually, during a recent coffee break with colleagues in a committee at Madge Cafe in Atria Park District, Iloilo. Somewhere between coffee and conversation, Dr. Medrano began sharing a few things marriage had taught him. He and his wife are nearing five decades together, so I figured the man has picked up a thing or two along the way. His wisdom came not in psychological jargon but in four images: ATM, doing what your misis does not like, minor decisions, and a zipper.

The first made me laugh: ATM means “Automatic to Misis.” Payday comes, salary arrives, and the money goes to the wife. Before husbands start hiding their ATM cards, relax. I do not hear Medrano saying that every wife must control the family finances. His advice assumes that she happens to be the better money manager. If the husband is better at budgeting, saving, and making sure bills do not send love letters, then the arrangement can easily go the other way. The point is trust, not gender.

And it has to be mutual. Some couples pool everything. Others keep separate accounts and share household expenses. Some let one spouse handle most of the finances because that person is simply better at it. Whatever works. What matters is that both understand the arrangement and freely agree to it. Money given grudgingly every payday can easily feel like a tax. Money entrusted willingly says something else: I trust you with what we are building together. No secret mathematics. No monthly hide-and-seek. No spouse repeatedly asking, “May budget na?” while the other suddenly develops selective hearing.

Medrano’s second tip is even more practical: know what your wife does not like doing, then do it. If she hates washing clothes, wash them. If cooking drains her, cook. If dishes are her mortal enemy, approach the sink like a man with a mission. Nobody has written a great teleserye scene where the hero whispers, “Mahal, ako na sa Tupperware.” Still, there is something quietly affectionate about noticing what tires another person and taking some of it off their plate.

Of course, this works both ways. Maybe he hates paperwork and she finishes the form before he finds his reading glasses. Maybe she hates driving at night and he gladly takes the wheel. The point is not to keep score. Once love becomes bookkeeping, somebody eventually asks for an audit. Research calls something close to this perceived partner responsiveness—feeling understood, appreciated, and cared for—which has been linked to long-term well-being (Selcuk et al., 2016). Sometimes “Ako na” really is more romantic than roses.

Then came Dr. Medrano’s third line: men make the major decisions; women make the minor ones. The catch is that all decisions are minor. That was when I got the joke. In his telling, even the big ones make their way to the wife. Where will the children study? Should we buy the car? Can we afford the house? When should we retire? The idea is to bring her into the decision and, sometimes, simply trust her judgment. Perhaps that is his playful version of “Happy wife, happy life.” Marriage has enough real problems without creating another just to prove who gets the last word.

Still, I would not make that a rule. It can go both ways. Some days she sees things more clearly; other days he does. The big decisions deserve a good conversation because both will live with them. And sometimes, after everything has been said, “Sige, I trust you” is enough. Marriage does not need a winner every time two opinions meet. This is a relationship, not the UAAP finals. Sometimes giving way is not losing. It is simply choosing the person over the point.

The fourth image is my favorite. Medrano compares a relationship to a zipper: two sides are drawn together, with God at the center. For people who understand faith differently, the image can stretch a little. A relationship usually needs something larger than either person’s ego—shared values, purpose, family, faith, friendship, or a life both genuinely want to build. A zipper works because two sides meet. Neither side has to disappear.

That is why I prefer complement to the familiar idea that partners must “complete” each other. And while we are there, compliment each other, too. Preferably before someone asks, “May napansin ka ba?” You were already enough before another person came along. A loving partner need not supply a missing half. At best, you empower each other and help each other become more flourishing, generous, grounded, and life-giving. You remain yourself, only perhaps a better version because somebody beside you sees possibilities you sometimes miss.

Being together should therefore leave some room to breathe. Friends, work, hobbies, dreams, solitude, and separate interests do not automatically threaten love. Healthy partnership can be interdependent without requiring either person to disappear. There is something beautiful about being able to say, I can stand on my own, but I freely choose to stand with you.

And choosing to stand alone can also be a good life. Not everyone needs marriage or partnership to flourish. Some remain single by choice or circumstance. Others discover after loss, separation, or years of experience that being alone is not the same as being lonely. There can be freedom in having more space for family, friends, vocation, service, travel, creativity, or simply oneself. As long as that freedom respects boundaries and allows us to remain life-giving for and with others, singleness should not be treated as a waiting room before real life begins.

None of Medrano’s four ideas is a formula. Automatic transfers cannot repair contempt. Washing dishes cannot substitute for fidelity. Giving way on curtains will not cure serious incompatibility. Faith should never justify abuse, coercion, or chronic disrespect. And sacrifice becomes unhealthy when only one person is expected to keep making it. These little habits make sense when they are mutual, freely chosen, and heartfelt. Forced kindness eventually stops feeling kind.

Still, perhaps that is why the advice stayed with me. We like imagining love through proposals, weddings, anniversaries, flowers, vacations, and Facebook posts with suspiciously perfect captions. Most relationships actually happen elsewhere: bank accounts, kitchens, traffic, grocery aisles, laundry baskets, family group chats, and arguments over who misplaced the charger. Love may have its grand occasions, but much of it is lived on ordinary Tuesdays.

I return, then, to my disclaimer. I offer none of this from the winner’s podium. I am somewhere closer to the remedial class. Knowing these things is much easier than consistently living them. Maybe that is also what makes Medrano’s advice useful. Trust someone with something important. Notice what burdens them. Carry your share without always being asked. Do not turn every small disagreement into a championship bout. And whether partnered or single, try to become more life-giving because of the freedom and relationships you have.

Perhaps the best relationship hacks are not hacks at all. They are choices we keep making until they become habits—and habits we keep choosing because they still come from the heart.

After all, maybe the better question is not “Who completes me?”

We are already enough.

Perhaps it is simply: Does the way I love—and the way I live—help both of us flourish?

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.