(Courtesy of Laura W.)
A Skeptic's View of Love
Greta Christina's Blog
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And it's gotten me thinking about the whole idea of soul-mates, and romantic destiny, and there being one perfect love for you in the whole world. All of which I think is a load of dingo's kidneys.
And I don't think I'm being unromantic.
First, obviously, I think the whole "soul-mate/ romantic destiny" thing is just wrong. Mistaken. Not true. I don't think we have souls, much less mates for them; I don't think there's an invisible hand pushing people together (and if there were, it'd have a seriously sadistic sense of humor, what with putting people's true destined loves on opposite sides of the country and whatnot).
But maybe more to the point:
The "soul-mate/ romantic destiny" vision of love puts the focus on love as something you feel -- rather than something you do.
It puts the focus on love as something that happens to you -- rather than something that you choose.
And I find it much more romantic, and much more loving, to see love as something we do, and something we choose.
When we see love solely as something that we feel... then what happens when those feelings change? As they inevitably do.
And when we see love solely as something that happens to us... then what happens when the going gets tough, and we have to make hard choices about the relationship? For that matter, what happens when something else happens to us -- something that conflicts with the love? What happens when we get job offers in other cities... or when other romantic prospects appear on the horizon?
Of course a huge part of love is the way we feel about our beloved. The feelings of tenderness and passion that well up in me when I look at Ingrid, the feelings of anxious excitement that I had when we were first starting out...that's an enormous part of what we have between us. And of course a huge part of love is the feeling that something has hit you out of the clear blue sky. When Ingrid and I were first going out, I used to say that I felt like I'd been conked on the head with a giant vaudeville rubber mallet. If love didn't have the power to knock us out of our tracks and into a whole new life, it wouldn't be what it is.
But I don't think that's enough. It's enough to get love started -- but it's not enough to sustain it.
I think what sustains love is doing the dishes when you promised to. Remembering the book they said they wanted, and getting it for their birthday. Skipping the movie you wanted to see, to go with them to a party of their friends who you don't know very well. Remembering which kind of seltzer water they like when you go shopping; remembering how they like their burgers cooked when you're making dinner. Sitting with them when they're grieving... and restraining your impulse to always try to fix things and give advice and make things better, and instead being willing to just sit still and be with them in their pain. Asking if there's anything they need from the kitchen while you're up. Wearing the stupid sticky breathing strip on your nose at night so your snoring doesn't keep them awake. Bringing them endless cups of tea when they're sick. Keeping your temper in an argument, and remembering that as angry as you might be right now, you love this person and don't want to hurt them. Saying, "I love you." Saying, "You're beautiful" -- not just when they're dolled up for a night on the town, but when they come home from work and you notice that they look particularly fetching. Noticing when they come home from work looking particularly fetching. Going to their readings, their dance performances, their office parties. Going to their family gatherings, and treating their family as your family, too. Going to the vet together. Trying out music they like, books they like, recipes they like, hobbies they like, kinds of sex they like, even if you don't think it's your thing: not just because you want to make them happy, but because it's part of who they are, and you want to find out more about them, and share the things that matter to them.
In the inimitable words of Tim Minchin, "Love is nothing to do with destined perfection/ The connection is strengthened; the affection simply grows over time... And love is made more powerful by the ongoing drama of shared experience and synergy/ And symbiotic empathy or something like that... " Sure, the feelings I have for Ingrid have a lot to do with the giant vaudeville rubber mallet I got conked on the head with when we fell in love. But they have more to do with the eleven plus years we've spent together: the meals we've eaten, the parties we've thrown, the vacations we've taken, the arguments we've had, the sex we've had, the griefs we've borne, the thousands of nights we've spent sleeping in the same bed, the long conversations we've had about politics, about religion, about books, about our friends, about our cats, about bad reality television.
And none of that has anything to do with fate.
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