
If they wanted to, they would.
Certain relationship phrases have become so popular we repeat them without even noticing.
“Never go to bed angry.”
“Communication is everything.”
“Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
And then there’s the queen of them all:
“If they wanted to, they would.”
Every time I hear it, a part of me thinks, Yes… and another part immediately goes, Well… not necessarily.
So I thought it might be worth investigating.
Because either we’ve finally discovered the six words that explain human behaviour…
…or we’ve massively oversimplified something that’s much more complicated.
Let’s start with why this phrase became so popular in the first place.
Honestly? Because it feels empowering.
If someone keeps disappointing you, it’s strangely comforting to believe the explanation is simple. They didn’t call because they didn’t care. They forgot your birthday because you weren’t important enough. They cancelled dinner because they didn’t want to see you.
Simple explanations are emotionally satisfying.
Unfortunately, psychology has a long history of reminding us that humans rarely behave in simple ways.
Here’s something I’ve been thinking about.
Have you ever genuinely wanted to do something… and still didn’t do it?
Not because you didn’t care.
Because you were overwhelmed.
Because you procrastinated.
Because you convinced yourself you’d do it tomorrow.
Because your brain was running on fumes.
Because you simply forgot.
I’m guessing most of us have.
Which immediately creates a problem.
If our own behaviour can’t always be explained by “I wanted to” versus “I didn’t want to,” why are we so confident using that explanation for everyone else?
Before anyone accuses me of making excuses for bad partners, let me be clear.
Sometimes this phrase is absolutely right.
If your partner repeatedly ignores your needs, never follows through, refuses every conversation, and shows no interest in changing, then eventually the pattern speaks louder than any explanation ever could.
Behaviour matters.
Consistently.
But I don’t think that’s what this phrase is usually doing online.
More often, it’s being used to explain individual moments.
One unanswered message.
One forgotten anniversary.
One cancelled plan.
One missed bid for affection.
And that feels… risky.
Because now we’re treating every disappointment as if it’s evidence in a murder trial.
John Gottman, who has spent decades observing couples in laboratory settings, found something that completely changed the way I think about relationships.
Happy couples disappoint each other all the time.
They miss opportunities to connect.
They misunderstand each other.
They forget things.
They get distracted.
They’re impatient after stressful days.
Reading that was oddly reassuring.
Not because it lowers the bar.
Because it changes where we look.
Maybe the important question isn’t:
“Did this person fail me?”
Maybe it’s:
“What happens after I tell them they hurt me?”
Do they become curious?
Do they get defensive?
Do they minimise it?
Do they try to repair it?
That, to me, feels much more revealing than whether they remembered to buy flowers on Tuesday.
I also wonder whether social media accidentally trains us to become detectives instead of partners.
We’re encouraged to analyse clues.
“He watched my story but didn’t reply.”
“She was online two minutes ago.”
“He liked her photo.”
The investigation starts before the conversation ever does.
And here’s the irony.
We’re trying to understand another human while collecting evidence from the one place where context barely exists.
So… where does that leave our original sentence?
I don’t think it’s completely wrong.
I think it’s incomplete.
Maybe a better version would be:
If they consistently want the relationship, eventually you’ll see it.
Not because they’ll never make mistakes.
But because they’ll care about the impact those mistakes have.
They’ll repair.
They’ll adjust.
They’ll try again.
And if that never happens…
Well, then those original six words start becoming much more convincing.
So what does the science say?
Not that love means never disappointing your partner.
Not that effort is irrelevant.
But that long-term relationships are built less on perfect behaviour and more on responsiveness — how people respond when the relationship is under strain. Decades of research from John Gottman’s work consistently point to repair attempts, responsiveness, and turning toward each other after conflict as stronger predictors of relationship stability than isolated mistakes.
What do you think?
Is “If they wanted to, they would” a healthy reality check?
Or has it become an excuse to stop having difficult conversations?
The case isn’t closed.
Today’s evidence suggests that relationships are more complicated than six viral words.
But there are still a few unanswered questions sitting on my desk.
- When does empathy become self-abandonment?
- Can someone genuinely love you and still repeatedly fail you?
- How do we tell the difference between a partner who’s struggling and one who’s simply stopped trying?
…
I don’t have satisfying answers yet.
But that’s what this column is for.
See you in the next investigation.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Toa Heftiba on Unsplash