Contrarian trading strategies are widely covered by finance literature. Theoretically, when the market is rife with good news about a publicly traded firm, investors should consider selling. Rapid price appreciation driven by market demand tends to attract media attention, propagating further praise from analysts and attracting more investors to take a bite of the appreciated equity. A contrarian investor would argue that this is the optimal time to sell because the price is likely bobbing near the top—the good news is baked into the cake. Conversely, a firm that consistently disappoints market participants and experiences a precipitous decline in valuation—according to the contrarian investment paradigm—may present a buying opportunity. The bad news is out, and the sellers have been purged. Because the stock price is low, a buy order is a bet on a brighter tomorrow.

Like stock values, relationships are subject to psychology, often reflecting similar contrarian patterns. Specifically, when individuals or entities reach a qualitative peak in their interactions, a dispute may be in the offing. Indeed, when communication between parties is at its summit, positive emotions transmute into hubris just as caution yields to complacency. In such instances, cognitive filters become less constrained, augmenting the potential for hurt feelings. Once a relationship hits a low point, an argument for an upward trajectory is equally intuitive. Applying contrarian principles—a time of stress often leads to finer vocal filters and greater reliance on patience.

I’ve been tracking such contrarian patterns in relationships for decades. Like data used by economists to predict economic cycles, these trends lend themselves to forecasts of human interaction. Frankly, awareness of these tendencies, at times, impacts my behavior, turning the contrarian theory into a self-fulfilling prophecy.