After 27 years of marriage, I've discovered some of the secret passageways between women’s words and men's ears. These four communication techniques have helped my husband and I understand each other. We have demystified some of our differences.

Room for Vent

I tend to think aloud. I use my words to help me sort out my thoughts and decide how I feel about something. Sometimes I don't want a solution; I just want to vent.

For some reason this makes my husband, Ron, uncomfortable because he wants to fix it, forget it, and move on. I like to take a long hot bath in my problems before I even think about solving them.

When we were first married, we moved into a new neighborhood and began attending a new church. I was almost friendless because I was shy and waiting for a warm and wonderful woman to approach me with a sign on her forehead that read "Friend of Nancy's." She hadn't yet appeared, so I wanted to share my feelings with Ron, "I'm lonely. I wish I had a girlfriend."

Ron, with the best of intentions, started to help me solve my problem. He gave me a lecture titled Friendship 101. The Bible says, "In order to have a friend you must be a friend. What have you done to be friendly?" Then he got out a legal pad and a wide-tipped Sharpie and wrote in block letters, "Nancy's Friendship Goals." Next, he started to draw a flow chart. He was befuddled when I started to cry and said, "I don't want a diagram. I want a friend!"

Now if I just want to vent, I tell Ron ahead of time. He's even learned to ask me, "Do you want my advice or just my ear?" What a guy. I think I'll keep him!

Want to Please Me? Don't Tease Me!

Many couples tease each other, and if you can keep it friendly, it might be fun. If, however, your humor is at someone else's expense, it's too costly. My husband is a funny guy. When we met, he was performing stand-up comedy in Los Angeles clubs like the Improv and the Comedy Store. He even took joke-writing classes from professional comedians like Steve Martin and had a one-on-one lesson from Bill Cosby.

He was always looking for a laugh. So when I ruined a meal or gained weight, he thought of it as new comedy material. I thought his comments were insulting and cruel. We had some of our biggest fights about his definition of humor. After I explained how much it hurt me, he stopped making my butt the butt of his jokes. He's still funny, and we often write comedy scripts for Christian plays. But now, we share the same rule: cruel personal insults are not funny.

Be Specific -- Be Heard

A few years ago, I hit on a principle that’s saved us from hundreds of misunderstandings and arguments.

One afternoon I was frantically cleaning the house for our son Nick's birthday party. Ron was sitting in the den reading the newspaper. "Will you please pick up those papers," I asked, "and sweep the front steps? They'll be here soon!"

"Uh..." he grunted, without looking up.

"I'll take that as a yes," I shouted as I sprinted upstairs to fix my hair and make-up.