Our arguments were not because of ill will or malice. They were chiefly because the world – including the "inner world" – is confusing. We are creatures “darkly wise, rudely great”, as Alexander Pope put it. Human reality is vague and variable, and even if we are familiar with the facts, we do not always agree on their value or significance. The sociologist and I did not pretend otherwise: we disagreed daily – and vehemently so.

Despite this backdrop of strife, colleagues and intimates alike often treat argument as something awkward or vulgar. Many only argue when they are furious or anxious – often about something else entirely. Argument becomes a way of obliquely working out anger or worry: a proxy war between fragile psyches.

And because these spats are chiefly driven by fury or hurt, they lack discipline: they are clumsy and hasty. A chance for illumination missed in favour of point-scoring.

Nothing will overcome spite or pettiness. Still, for those with goodwill but bad habits, here are some choice phrases that suggest the debate has degenerated. Each is an opportunity to slow down, adjust our intellectual spectacles, and look again.

Perhaps the most common: “That's just your opinion.” This phrase makes two mistakes. First, the "just". Opinions are not trivial. They can be wise or naive, precise or vague – but we cannot do without them. Second, the "your". Of course it is my opinion. The point is to demonstrate what kind of opinion it is: true or false, profound or shallow, clear or vague. And for that, you need to do the work.

“You're not listening,” is another common reply. It can be spot-on: someone is deep in denial. But this phrase often means something else: "You don't agree with me." It's a conceit: that anyone really listening would automatically agree with us. Yet often this is the problem: we're unpersuasive precisely because we've not reflected clearly enough on our own ideas. A better reply: “What is my argument, in your own words?” This will reveal whether or not someone is listening, and can help to cultivate common ground.

One of my personal favourites, as a young(ish) philosopher, is “you'll understand when you're older". There's some truth to this: wisdom and empathy can come with age. One gains a richer appreciation of human ambiguity or fragility. And not just with age: with illness, grief, heartache, parenthood, horror. But using age as a shortcut for argument is either pointless or false. Pointless because it's unpersuasive for anyone without this experience, and false because not everyone of one's age agrees – often these are genuine differences of fact or value, not generation gaps.

“I can't explain it, but I just have a feeling.” Feelings have a genuine role in argument: they signal issues, suggest problems, rightly heighten stakes. But often we mistake the intensity of a feeling for the cogency of an idea. Unless you can say why you feel strongly about an idea, and link this to its plausibility, do not expect your emotions to do the persuading for you. We all have feelings – they are not a "get out of argument free" card.

Perhaps the worst of all: “You won't change my mind.” Yes, there is a time for deeds not words. But being proud of your refusal to listen is absurd. Like believing you have a divine mandate for misogyny or bigotry, it replaces reasonable conviction with irrational assertion. Unless you are infallible, skip this conceit.

Obviously these are only a handful of examples – you can choose your own corkers. The general point is that debate is worth having, and worth having well. It needn't be marred by barbed catharsis or flailing insecurity. It can be enriching, enlightening.

And the sociologist? Reader: I married her.