If you are afraid of loneliness, don’t marry. — Anton Chekhov
how we talk about love
Many romance stories—from Hollywood rom-coms, Disney princess tales, and American romance novels to Japanese shoujo manga and Korean dramas—celebrate the idea that finding your life partner is a magical and effortless experience. When you meet your partner, you’ll love them at first sight. Your partner will immediately understand you and your needs, even though you have never communicated those needs before. Your partner will match you in every imaginable way and do everything for you that they can. And you will never feel lonely, ever again.
The reality, we learn, is not so rosy. It turns out that many of us take time to fall in love. It turns out that most people aren’t mind-readers, and even though your partner might be great at interpreting your body language or know your history and personality well enough that they often have a good guess for what you’re thinking, it’s just not reasonable to expect that they’ll always know your every wish. It also turns out that most people have lives of their own, and even though your partner might be there for you most of the time, they can’t always resolve your needs for you. In fact, sometimes, they might choose not to resolve your needs for you, even if they can. And sometimes, that doesn’t make them a bad or mean partner—it just makes them a person who sets boundaries and has needs of their own. It also turns out that if you are prone to feeling lonely, you will probably still feel lonely, time and again.
your needs are your own
I once walked into a management coaching session the morning after my then-partner and I had a fight. Unable to focus on work, I blubbered about the situation: essentially, my partner and I had been talking over the phone about a different upsetting issue (that I can no longer remember), and in the midst of this conversation filled with sad and negative emotions, he told me that he needed to sleep and couldn’t keep talking.
It really wasn’t an unreasonable request on his part. At the time, I lived on the west coast and he lived on the east coast, so he was actually already staying up very late to comfort me, even though he had to wake up very early for work the next day. But it still hurt me a lot that even though he knew I was hurting, he wanted to sleep more than he wanted to be with me. I felt abandoned. I felt that if he loved me more, he would stay awake and be with me. I was supposedly in a healthy relationship with the person I love, and yet I felt so alone.
It sounds like you had a need for companionship that he wasn’t able to fulfill, my coach said. It sounds like he decided to take care of his own needs, and he didn’t continue tending to yours.
I feel like if he loves me, he should put my needs before his own, I said. I know that I’m being hypocritical, because I should have put his need to sleep before my own need for companionship. But I was really hurting.
From what you’ve told me about him before, it sounds like he often does put your needs before his own, my coach said. Let me ask you: do you want him to be there for you because he wants to, or because he feels like he has to?
I feel like he should always want to be there for me because he loves me.
And yet it seems like he loves you, and he wanted to be there for you, and he needed sleep, and he decided to sleep. He tells you this, and you ask him if he would please stay up with you, and he says he’s sorry, but no, he won’t. So let’s say, at that point, you angrily demand that he stay up with you. How do you think he would feel?
Silence.
I don’t think you want him to resent you. It’s good that you communicate your needs to him, but if he can’t resolve your needs, you need to remember that your needs are your own, and that it isn’t his responsibility to resolve them. You can go to him, and he will often be happy to be there for you—to comfort you, distract you, cheer you up. But sometimes he will say no, and you will need to find another way to deal with your feelings.
people who are not our partner
There are many ways that we can feel better with self-care. But if our need is for companionship, we turn to people who are not our partner for emotional support. That’s healthy and a good thing in many cases. But it’s also probably how most emotional affairs begin—when one partner feels like they can no longer depend on the other for emotional support, and instead turns to someone else.
feeling seen
Years later. You hear a piece of music, or see a performance, or behold a work of art—that moves you deeply, to your core, that twists you up inside. What did you think? you ask your partner tentatively.
I thought it was okay, they say. Casually. As if you hadn’t just had your soul ripped out of you.
And you stare at this person you love, and you feel like there is this huge part of your inner core that they can’t see, and you wonder why they love you, and if those are the reasons for which you want to be loved.
love without boundaries
We’re taught by stories that love without boundaries is beautiful. The man who gives up everything to be with the woman he loves. The parent who sacrifices everything to support their child. The soldier who jumps on the grenade to save his comrades. And truly, it is beautiful when people care deeply. I find deep caring to be one of the most beautiful things in the world.
But it’s certainly not “healthy.”
But the beauty of love isn’t in dramatic gestures, they say. Love is beautiful in the everyday. And it’s not wrong that there is a beauty to love in the everyday. In fact, I’m a huge proponent of giving life to the stories of love in the everyday, because I think it isn’t done enough, and I think we (read: I) develop unrealistic expectations about relationships as a result. But the fact that love is beautiful in the everyday doesn’t actually prevent love from being beautiful in unhealthy, unrealistic dramatic gestures. We (read: I) still love The Notebook, not just in spite of its romantic extravagance, but also because of it.
And so there’s this tension between the beauty of deep, self-sacrificing caring—of love without boundaries—and the healthiness of taking care of ourselves.
what we want
So what does it mean, for two people to come together as partners? Are we just two separate humans who decide to experience life together because we like to fulfill each other’s needs, participate in each other’s experiences, and make joint decisions on our collective happiness? I think that’s a healthy definition—that although relationships serve merely as a salve for the loneliness of existence, the beauty of the salve is worth celebrating.
And yet, I feel like something is missing from that view of love. Perhaps it’s the unhealthy and unrealistic beauty of dramatic stories, and perhaps we shouldn’t want that—and we don’t want it, but we also do. Or perhaps it’s this sense that no matter whom we choose as our partner, we still won’t escape being alone.