“When two givers indulge in a connection, it’s like magic. It’s alchemy. I water you, you water me, we never drain each other, we just grow.”
I recently came across this quote, and it made me contemplate the interesting dynamics in interpersonal relationships. Curious about the origin of the quote, I began searching. No confirmed source for the quote, but in the process, I stumbled upon a theory by organisational psychologist Adam Grant that offers a useful framework for thinking about how we relate to others. According to Grant, people in relationships, whether personal or professional, tend to fall into three behavioural types: givers who focus on helping others, matchers who strive for balance and give but expect something in return, and takers who are driven by self-interest, taking more than they give, often without realising it. Grant mainly refers to business relationships, but this theory makes sense when applied to any interpersonal relationships, including romantic ones.
Our relational style is shaped by a complex web of factors: attachment patterns, nervous system states, trauma history, and even the neurochemistry of empathy. We adapt based on what we’ve learned about love, worthiness, and danger, often unconsciously. The quote above implies that two givers strike a balance, but is that really the case? If you’re curious to find out more, read on.
Why Givers and Takers Often Find Each Other
I'll make a wild guess: you're a giver. And more than once, you've found yourself in a relationship with someone who is a taker. That's probably why you found this article; you're trying to make sense of a pattern that feels both familiar and exhausting. There’s a magnetism between givers and takers that makes sense from a neurobiological perspective. Givers are often deeply attuned to others with heightened sensitivity to others’ emotional states. Research shows that individuals who engage in generous or empathic behaviour exhibit stronger activation in brain areas involved in empathy and emotional resonance. These individuals may also be more responsive to oxytocin, the hormone associated with trust and bonding. In fact, studies have shown that giving doesn’t just feel good emotionally, it also lights up the brain’s reward pathways, reinforcing the behavior on a biological level. This helps explain why giving feels so natural to some people: their nervous systems are wired to attune, to care, and to connect.
However, overgiving can be adaptive behaviour shaped by childhood experiences where love, safety, or stability had to be earned or created. Children who grow up with an unwell parent or in emotionally unstable, chaotic, or neglectful environments often take on the role of the caregiver, either for a parent (emotionally or physically) or younger siblings. This is known as parentification. Parentified children learn to attune acutely to others’ needs, moods, and emotional shifts in order to maintain harmony or prevent conflict. This creates a form of hypervigilant empathy, which manifests as being excellent at reading others and anticipating their needs, but often at the expense of staying connected to one's own needs, receiving care, or asking for help. Living in an unpredictable emotional environment wires the nervous system for chronic alertness, associating connection with responsibility, and love with vigilance. Sense of self-worth becomes entangled with being useful or needed.
Takers, on the other hand, often operate from a place of deficit, not necessarily in material ways, but emotionally. There’s often an inner void, shaped by early neglect, unmet needs, or trauma. This void becomes a kind of gravitational pull. Everything in their system is organised around trying to fill it with love, attention, validation, and status. But because the need is unconscious and unquenchable, no amount is ever enough. From a neurobiological perspective, takers often show reduced activity in empathy-related brain regions and increased focus on reward-based circuits. Their nervous systems may be wired for self-protection, not connection. Vulnerability feels dangerous, so control and self-focus become default modes. What looks like entitlement or selfishness is often a protective adaptation, a shield builtaround a long-buried fear of not being worthy or lovable.
So when givers and takers connect, the dynamic feels right at first. The giver gets to give. The taker gets to receive. But over time, the giver may feel emotionally drained, unseen, or resentful. And without realising it, the giver often enables the taker’s behaviour, reinforcing and normalising a one-sided dynamic. This dynamic rarely leads to growth or healing for either person; it just perpetuates a familiar, unresolved loop. As Carl Jung wrote, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”
Rethinking the Quote: It's Not About Two Givers, but Two Matchers
When I first read the quote “I water you, you water me, we never drain each other, we just grow”, I had a romantic vision of two pure-hearted givers nourishing each other without condition. It sounds beautiful, and in some ways, it is. But if we look more closely, this isn’t really a 'giver-giver' dynamic at all. It’s not about one person endlessly pouring into the other. It’s not about self-sacrifice, emotional labour, or hyper-attunement. It’s about reciprocity, mutual care, and a healthy, balanced exchange. This kind of dynamic might be more accurately described as what Adam Grant called a 'matcher'.
Grant describes matchers as those who give but expect something in return, which might at first sound cold or transactional. But if relationships are not balanced, they become lopsided. Wanting reciprocity isn’t always about keeping score; it's more often about preserving emotional balance. It’s not "I gave you coffee, now you owe me one." It’s more like "I want to feel that this relationship flows both ways, that I am seen and respected". And that desire is not just reasonable but essential to relational health. True giving, one not born out of a place of injury but healing, can only thrive when it exists in an ecosystem of mutuality. Without that, what we call 'giving' can easily morph into enabling, rescuing, or reliving old patterns. And what we call 'receiving' can collapse into dependency or entitlement. Neither leads to healing or growth.
I now believe that the healthiest relationships are not between two tireless givers, but between two people who possess emotional maturity and understand how to move fluidly between giving, receiving, and striking a balance in the space between. People who can say: "I’ll water you, not because I expect a return, but because I know I won’t be left parched." As a parentified child, hypervigilant to other people's needs, who was once stuck in the cycle of overgiving and resentment until that part was healed, I now understand that love doesn’t mean overextending yourself to prove your worth. It means being in a space where care is mutual, where both people are nourished and not drained by the exchange. Where boundaries are clear, and giving is no longer a compulsion, but a conscious act rooted in self-awareness, choice, and trust. Healing that part of me allowed me to see that real intimacy isn't found in losing yourself for another, but in being fully present as yourself, and still choosing to give and to receive.
Final Thoughts
I believe the magic doesn’t happen when we endlessly give to others, but when we strive for balance. Love, care, and generosity must be offered with intention, not as a way to earn connection, but as an expression of it. When we learn to give without self-abandonment and receive without guilt, we create space for growth. I water you, you water me isn't about being two perfect givers - it’s about knowing when to water, when the water is not needed, and trusting that you're not the only one holding the watering can.
