Narrator: A husband and wife, Phil and Tina, sit in a therapist's office. They have a loving relationship, two children, and stable careers, but they haven't been intimate in six months. Tina, exhausted from a stressful reorganization at work, explains she was too drained to connect. Phil, feeling repeatedly rejected, eventually stopped trying. He looks at the therapist and says, "I miss her." In that moment, Tina’s eyes fill with tears. "I miss making love, too," she admits. "I miss the way it used to be." Phil is stunned. "You never gave me that information," he says, his voice a mix of relief and frustration. This single sentence reveals the invisible chasm that had grown between them—a gap not of love, but of information. They had failed to share their emotional truths, and in that silence, loneliness and resentment took root.

This breakdown of connection, happening in millions of relationships every day, is the central puzzle explored in The Science of Trust: Emotional Attunement for Couples by renowned relationship expert Dr. John Gottman and Joan DeClaire. The book argues that trust and intimacy are not built on grand gestures, but on the microscopic, everyday moments of emotional communication. It provides a scientific roadmap to understanding these moments and learning the skills to navigate them successfully.

Narrator: At the heart of all human connection is a simple, fundamental unit: the "bid." A bid is any attempt from one person to another for attention, affirmation, or affection. It can be a direct question like, "How was your day?" or as subtle as a sigh, a shared glance, or a light touch on the arm. Each bid is a quiet question: "Are you there for me?" The book posits that the entirety of a relationship's health can be measured by the flow of these bids and the responses they receive.

The authors share an analogy from writer Anne Lamott, whose ten-year-old brother was paralyzed with anxiety over a school report on birds. He had procrastinated until the last minute and was overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the project. Seeing his son's distress, his father put an arm around him and gave him simple, profound advice: "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird." In the same way, Gottman explains, relationships are not built in a single, monumental effort. They are built "bid by bid." Each small, seemingly insignificant interaction is a chance to build a stronger bond. Research from Gottman’s "Love Lab" supports this, revealing that couples in stable, happy marriages made bids for connection up to one hundred times in a ten-minute dinnertime conversation, while couples heading for divorce did so only sixty-five times. These small moments, compounded over time, create the foundation of trust.

Narrator: If a bid is an offering, the response is what determines its value. Gottman’s research identifies three distinct ways people react to bids: turning toward, turning away, and turning against. These responses are powerful predictors of a relationship's future.

"Turning toward" is the act of recognizing and engaging with a bid. It’s looking up from your phone when your partner speaks, offering a word of encouragement, or simply acknowledging their presence. This response builds what Gottman calls an "emotional bank account," a reservoir of goodwill and trust that helps couples weather conflict.

"Turning against" is an overtly hostile or argumentative response. It treats a bid as an annoyance or an opportunity for a fight. While damaging, it is often less destructive than the third response: "turning away."

"Turning away" is the silent killer of connection. It involves ignoring, dismissing, or being preoccupied during a bid. This response sends a devastating message: "You are not important. I don't care." The story of Anna and Frank, new parents of twins, illustrates this danger. Frank, stressed from a job he hated, would retreat to his computer art, consistently ignoring Anna’s calls for help with the babies. One night, a mayonnaise-covered knife he left on the counter sent her into a rage. The knife wasn't the issue; it was a symbol of every time he had turned away, leaving her feeling lonely and abandoned. Gottman's data is stark: husbands headed for divorce disregarded their wives' bids a staggering 82% of the time, compared to just 19% for husbands in stable relationships.

Narrator: Even with the best intentions, people often sabotage their own attempts at connection. The book identifies several "bid busters," or common patterns of communication that destroy intimacy. One of the most pervasive is "being mindless rather than mindful." This happens when we fail to notice the subtle emotional needs of others because we are distracted or stuck in a particular mindset.

Consider the neurosurgeon who, after a long day of clinical analysis, comes home to his wife. She asks him, "How do you think we're doing—as a couple?" She is making a bid for emotional reassurance. But the surgeon, still in his professional role, responds with a detailed, objective evaluation of their strengths and weaknesses. His assessment is accurate, but it completely misses her emotional need. She bursts into tears, and he is left baffled. He failed to be mindful of the person in front of him, responding instead with a clinical detachment that felt like rejection. Other bid busters include starting conversations on a sour note with criticism, using harmful character attacks instead of helpful complaints about behavior, and avoiding necessary conversations altogether, allowing resentment to fester.

Narrator: Why do some people crave adventure while others prioritize safety? Why is one person the life of the party while another prefers quiet affiliation? The book introduces neuroscientist Jaak Panksepp's concept of seven "emotional command systems" in the brain. These are innate, hardwired networks that coordinate our emotional and behavioral responses.

The seven systems are the Commander-in-Chief (dominance, control), the Explorer (seeking, learning), the Sentry (fear, worry), the Energy Czar (rest, self-care), the Sensualist (sexuality, gratification), the Jester (play), and the Nest-Builder (nurturing, bonding). Each person has a different optimal level of activation for each system. The book uses the story of seven friends reuniting at a wilderness resort to illustrate this. Immediately upon arrival, their dominant systems kick in. Christopher (the Commander-in-Chief) starts organizing, Merrill (the Explorer) wants to hike, Carlos (the Sentry) worries about bears, and Peter (the Jester) just wants to play games. Their bids for connection all stem from these different internal drivers. Mismatches in these systems are not character flaws; they are fundamental differences in emotional needs. Understanding your own command systems and those of the people you love is crucial for developing empathy and navigating these differences without judgment.

Narrator: Our ability to connect is deeply shaped by our "emotional heritage"—the lessons we learned about feelings in our families of origin. Gottman describes four distinct family philosophies of emotion. "Emotion-Coaching" families welcome feelings as an opportunity for connection and teaching. "Dismissing" families trivialize or ignore emotions. "Laissez-Faire" families accept emotions but offer no guidance on how to manage them. And "Disapproving" families treat negative emotions as something bad that must be controlled or punished.

These early experiences create a blueprint for how we handle bids as adults. The story of Sarah and Rick in therapy provides a poignant example. Sarah grew up in a chaotic home where she learned her needs were unimportant. As a result, she never learned to bid for connection directly. Instead, she would suppress her resentment toward Rick until it erupted in an explosion of anger. Rick, overwhelmed, would withdraw—turning away from what he didn't realize was a desperate, albeit camouflaged, bid for connection. Therapy helped Rick see the longing behind Sarah's anger and helped Sarah learn that she was entitled to express her needs gently and directly. Recognizing one's own emotional heritage is a critical step in breaking destructive cycles and learning healthier ways to connect.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from The Science of Trust is that trust is not a monolithic state but a fragile, living thing, cultivated through thousands of small, conscious choices. It is the product of attunement—of noticing and turning toward the endless stream of bids that flow between people who care for each other. Intimacy is not found in grand romantic gestures, but in the quiet decision to put down a phone, to listen to a story, to acknowledge a sigh, and to offer a simple, "I hear you."

The book challenges us to become scientists of our own relationships, to observe the microscopic world of bids and responses that we so often ignore. The next time someone in your life makes a bid—a child asking you to look at a drawing, a partner sighing after a long day, a friend sending a text—what will you do? In that small moment lies the choice between building a bridge or a wall, between turning toward connection or away into silence.