This post, a couple years old now, came to mind this evening when having a drink with the lovely man I’m involved with. It’s a new affair, we’re both divorced, not young and agreed: This relationship is going to be a hot mess, just like the rest of them. The upside is that this relationship is new, so all the simmering, festering resentments have yet to be seeded. Good times to come! Whee!
It got me thinking …. are relationships later in life easier, or harder? Does past heartbreak, life complications, set-in-ones-wayidness, and heaving sacks of immobilizing baggage mean it is that much harder to fuse with another? Or is it that said heartbreak and complications deepen one’s heart, smooth out the craggy rough patches that made relationships less satisfying, more prickly earlier in life?
Both, I think. The latter moreso, I hope.
Checking your relationship expectations
I have two awesome but occasionally horrible children, a brain-injured ex who is mostly a good dude but sometimes not at all, a family history riddled with addiction and mental illness and my own cadre of qualities that include neediness, impatience and an intolerance for tardiness, with the exception of my own. Oh, and a public platform where tens of thousands of people each month hear all about the gritty details of my personal life.
If you and I were to date, this is where the shit show begins. After that? Once we get through your endless pile of emotional crap, we will devise our own dysfunction that requires constant negotiation, discussion, some hearty arguments and probably a mental health professional or five.
That is what love is all about, and I fully embrace it as normal and expected. I suggest you do, too.
I’ve been on a mission to discredit our reliance on love-at-first sight as the standard by which all relationships are measured. What if we shook it up and instead anticipated a delightfully messy, challenging affair that keeps us both on our toes for the rest of our days?
Per the current state of affairs, check Natilus:
We humans are a romantic tribe. Over 54 percent of American singles (which make up over half of the adult population) believe in love at first sight; 56 percent believe laws should make it easier to wed; 89 percent believe you can stay married to the same person forever. And, remarkably, 33 percent of American singles believe it’s ok to leave a “satisfactory marriage” if you are no longer passionately in love. In America, as in much of the post-industrial world, romantic love is in full bloom.
Further evidence, this essay by comic Steven Crowder, in which he urges men to marry:
Picture coming home every night to your best friend, your greatest fan, and your number one supporter. She (or he) makes each good day better, and each bad day good again. Every day, you get to live what is essentially a 24/7 sleepover party with the greatest friend you’ve ever had.
… Now add sex and sandwiches.
Get married, like, now.
That’s intoxicatingly cute, but that expectation for pure and constant romantic love doesn’t work out so great for most of us. We all know half of our marriages end in divorce (read my “Did your divorce story start with ‘He’s the one!’ ??” Or, just digest the title, which says it all), and the number of unhappily single people — women in particular — is growing. The reasons are numerous and not definitive, but include newfound economic freedom for women (yay!) and a general, societal trend of our inability to deal with shit.
This Thought Catalog essay sums up that point, as it relates to dating:
Our choices are killing us. We think choice means something. We think opportunity is good. We think the more chances we have, the better. But, it makes everything watered-down. Never mind actually feeling satisfied, we don’t even understand what satisfaction looks like, sounds like, feels like. We’re one foot out the door, because outside that door is more, more, more. We don’t see who’s right in front of our eyes asking to be loved, because no one is asking to be loved. We long for something that we still want to believe exists. Yet, we are looking for the next thrill, the next jolt of excitement, the next instant gratification.
None of that works if you, like me, seek the real-deal, long-term lasting relationship. I like very much what Eleanor Barkhorn writes in The Atlantic in a pro-marriage article, commenting on Crowder’s (and America’s) view of marriage:
Anyone who’s been in a marriage or observed one closely knows that these relationships can go through long periods of financial strain, sexual frustration, lethargy, and loneliness. That spouses are sometimes tired, or cranky, or not in the mood for sex or sandwich-making. And promising marriage skeptics otherwise does not help the case for marriage. It only provokes further skepticism from people who see through the false advertising. And for people who do buy into Crowder’s argument, a potentially worse fate awaits: disappointment and disillusionment when the challenges of marriage inevitably arise. Indeed, it’s entirely plausible that Crowder’s marriage is currently exactly as he describes it: blissful, harmonious, satisfying. Studies say that couples experience a happiness spike in their first year or two of marriage. But that euphoria is fleeting: A couple’s happiness returns to its normal, pre-marital level in the years that follow.
In other words: Marriage is life. Relationships are just life. Hard and complicated and joyful and sexy and miserable and unapologetically, relentlessly challenging. For everyone. The long-term relationships I aspire to take this fact for granted and face it with grace. These friends of mine say: Marriage is wonderful, get married! Marriage is so fucking hard! I want to kill him every day! But get married already! Quit being so picky, Emma and just pick one guy and work through it!
I’m trying, people. I’m really freaking trying.
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