Romantic love and partnership have become deeply complex and fraught in the current era. We are inundated with social media infographics and memes that seem to be trying to flatten and HR-ify our entire waking lives, even outside of work. We have scripts for how to tell someone you need space, or that you’re worried about them, or that you don’t have energy for certain topics, or when to say I love you, or when to play it cool, and there is no small number of experts or would-be experts who make money by telling you about everything your partner is doing wrong.*
When I step back and try to take in the overarching message, something starts to feel a little off. I can’t help but feel like if you were to imagine the person who is the platonic ideal of “good partner” under this paradigm, the image that is generated is kind of a… weird, frictionless, AI version of a person. A person who will say all the right things at the exact right moments, who will attune to you perfectly, who has no moments of ugliness or messiness. This would be nice, sure, but this is not a real person! And when we expect our partners and ourselves to fit into this very narrow, unrealistic framing of who is a worthy or good partner, it’s no wonder that so many of us are struggling so much in our romantic relationships.
The way we talk on social media about relationships is a recipe for anxiety. We are told that any moments of doubt, any times that your partner has fallen short of your expectations (or what social media has said your expectations should be), and any feelings of boredom, frustration, or sorrow, are a sign that you need to leave the relationship. Get out, run, don’t waste your time. And sure, there are times when that’s true. There’s nothing shameful about a relationship ending when it’s time for it to end, and some relationships are unhealthy or abusive and truly do need to come to an end. But on its own, discomfort in the relationship is not a sign that it’s time to end it. We are running the risk of confusing anxiety for intuition when we label every feeling as factual, and this can lead us to cut off relationships that might otherwise have brought a lot of unexpected meaning and joy into our lives.
More and more I fear we are losing the ability to coexist with other complex and imperfect human beings. After COVID and over a decade of smartphone hegemony, we are out of practice! Moreover, we’re told we shouldn’t have to interact with anyone who brings up any feelings of discomfort, irritation, etc. and if we do, then we should also be ashamed of ourselves for not associating with “better” people. Never mind the fact that we all have tons of projections to sift through, or that we are also often kind of tedious, messy, and clumsy in the ways we show up, with plenty of blind spots and areas where we fall short. That doesn’t make us worthy of contempt or any less worthy of love - it just makes us human. So why are we holding ourselves and each other to such an impossible standard?
Maybe we’re getting too used to having everything be ultra-customizable. The current goal of technology seems to be, in part, a frictionless life. We have been encouraged to become customers in our lives, and when a product doesn’t work as advertised, or there is some friction or discomfort in it, we throw it away. I think we have started to reach a point where we’re seeing our closest relationships in this way as well, and this is a problem. People are not objects or products or appliances to be possessed, controlled, or customized to meet your needs perfectly. Even if a relationship could be that perfect product, it would probably be quite lifeless and uninteresting. Hollow, uncanny, inhuman - the way an AI relationship would be.
There is a tree outside my office window. In the fall the moss turns electric green, and in the harsh bright days of summer, the leaves filter the sun, making the world seem gentler. Most of the time, I move through my days on autopilot, and the tree fades into the background. It becomes decoration: something that exists to either make my life pleasant or to be ignored.
On some days, though, my eye catches something new, something unexpected, and I’m filled with the knowledge that this tree, regardless of my attention or my appreciation, is a living being that exists for itself. I don’t know much about plant cognition, but it doesn’t matter: regardless of my attention or my understanding (this is key) the tree is a living being. Because it is a living being, that means it has a complexity to its existence that is personal and private, and that I will never truly know anything about. Instead of a decoration, a Thing to make my life feel a little more or less pleasant, it becomes an Other in its own right. It transforms from an It into a Thou. That feels humbling to me because it forces me to remember that I’m not the main character. Suddenly there is another being here, with needs of its own, and a life of its own, and a reason for existence that I will never know. It’s in these moments that I truly love the tree, and feel connected to it. It’s in these moments that I experience depth and come close to that indescribable feeling of being part of something larger, and closest to the experience of peace. There’s also intrigue, excitement, curiosity, and perspective; all of which make my life and experience richer.
It’s kind of easy to love a tree. It doesn’t talk about boring stuff, get mad at you, use the wrong words, or leave wet towels on the floor. It’s a much deeper challenge when it comes to our loved ones, friends, and neighbors, but love is a verb, and it's a practice. Love being a verb is central to full and rich relationships, and that means we need to reorient ourselves away from love and Loved Ones as decoration and toward the courageous task of loving them truly, for who they are. Loving the imperfect world as it is.
Here's where I recommend starting. We need to start training ourselves to notice: what’s happening for me right now? Am I treating this person as an It? A product? A Thing that exists to make my life more or less pleasant? Or am I remembering that this person is a Thou: a fully realized being, with a history and experiences and an internal mystery that I will never entirely uncover, who exists for themselves?
If your partner is a Thou, that means that they are, in some ways, a mystery to you. They are complete, complex, and are bravely engaged in loving you. You know how intricate and painful and vulnerable it is to be a breathing human being alive on this planet, engaged in the work of living because that is your experience too. When you can see that, you can begin to understand how everyone deserves a lot of tenderness, grace, and respect. And it’s also exciting because it means there are still things to discover about them, just like you did when you first fell in love.
You can’t live 24/7 in an active state of knowing that your partner is a Thou - it’s not realistic, we have to go into autopilot sometimes just to get through life. You can, however, learn to notice your thoughts in times of disappointment or frustration: am I frustrated because they are not behaving the way that I need them to? Is that justified, or am I objectifying them? Am I trying to get them to heal a wound they had no part in creating? You can also notice when you’re treating yourself that way. Am I objectifying myself, trying to be perfect for them, and failing to respect my own humanity and complexity? Failure is not to be feared - it's inevitable, and maybe even desirable, because you are trying and practicing, and that alone means something. Loving is not perfect - it’s the attempt that’s noble.
Comics by Tove Jansson