An Analytical Approach To Love

I remember a friend of mine in high school looking up the word love in the dictionary one day. Her boyfriend had told her he loved her, and she wasn’t sure if she should say it back. What does it mean? Exactly what am I committing myself to, here? I remember thinking that it was a strange way to go about things. I mean, if you’re in love, you should know it, right? My assumption was that love is easy — and saying it should be too; but to her, love was sacred and scary ground. So, what are the criteria for being in love? And what does it mean when we are? Is romantic love something I can look up, agree with, and declare? Is it a feeling? A commitment? What does it mean exactly, to say “I love you?”

I think the complexity of “being in love” is that it is a shared emotion — with differing experiences and expectations — like grief. There are five stages of grief that we all know about and accept as true. However, though the stages may be common, the way we experience them are vastly different. When my mother died, my sister and I grieved very differently. I became busy and distracted. She was pensive and sad. It was okay because we understood that we were different people. We didn’t expect to have the same experience. I think it was one of my other siblings who said to me, “we all lost a different mother,” and that brought me peace and freedom in the expression of my grief because I was mourning something different than anyone else. I think love is the same. There are supposedly 5 stages of love as well: Infatuation, commitment, disillusionment, real love, and conquering the world with a renewed and unwavering commitment. These stages, like the stages of grief, can provide a sort of roadmap — but they do little to help us wade through the frustration, grief, and confusion that comes with shared emotion.

Depending on the person, where they are in life, their convictions about love and relationship, how important sex is, their inner need for connection, (the list could go on and on) their approach to love will vary. Some will take a very cerebral approach — aligning their qualities with their partner’s qualities, making predictions based on what they perceive as important matches. Others are very chemical in their approach. Love is a reflection of how they feel around their partner — it is about what needs are being met, what emotion is there. The expression and the experience of the feeling could be wildly different from person to person. Whatever the approach, or the experience, at some point, the two decide to tie their feelings together with a commitment. This is where things become tricky.

If someone were to approach me on the street and hand me a candy bar, I would be thrilled. I could just enjoy it — without any hesitation or guilt (well, maybe…) because it was a gift. But if I have to go to a vending machine and make a series of choices regarding the candy, be witnessed by others who may judge me, choose one — when I really want three, and then enjoy it; well, that is a little more difficult. The desire for the candy is happily followed by the decision to get some — but choosing can ruin everything. Maybe it’s a silly analogy, but I find the same can be true with love. The anticipation of love is wonderful. The idea of it, the decision to go for it — those are laced with euphoria. But the choosing — well, that’s a different matter. All of a sudden, you’re standing there with a snickers, but maybe still really have a hankering for peanut butter. So I’m wondering if the commitment to one’s choice has to diminish the enjoyment of it.

If I fall in love because of a feeling that wavers, should I allow commitment to keep me tethered? When is it okay for love to be a choice? To what extent do I let that choice drive my actions? And finally, can love be authentic if it is acted on out of commitment rather than a feeling?

1. I think it is important to understand that a relationship is not easy. Just because both people are “in love” does not mean their expression or experience of it will be the same. For me, I’ve come to this. If I like who I am inside of this relationship and still have respect for my partner, then I will allow my commitment to override the temporary loss of feeling. The commitment does not violate my sense of self in any way — it is merely a recognition that feelings are not sustainable all the time. Sometimes I am tired. Or sick. Or overwhelmed. Sometimes my partner is stressed, or feeling insecure, or in need of some space. This is where I understand that love, though shared, is not equal — and sometimes it is important to let commitment fill that gap.
2. I let commitment drive my actions to the extent that I am not violating my self-respect. When I was in my early thirties, I dated an alcoholic. I was madly in love with him. It was one of those relationships where I felt like everything could be perfect if not for this “one thing.” It was an exquisite kind of torture. I was teaching high school at the time, and I remember having the epiphany that I would hate for my students to see me with him on a weekend. He would be drunk. And obnoxious. I remember thinking that none of them would want that for me. And I realized that I was committed to a love that violated my sense of who I wanted to be. I knew then, that the days in my relationship were numbered. I didn’t like myself anymore.
3. Finally, can love be authentic if it is about commitment rather than a feeling? This is a tough one. Maybe it depends on the duration. I watched a movie about Stephen Hawking in which his wife talked about how he had become an obligation, merely a choice she made every day. She showed her love for him through a commitment that eventually didn’t make sense anymore. I think a lot of marriages stay intact because of commitment rather than genuine affection. I don’t believe in that. However, I do think that there has to be a mutual understanding that there will be times when love is not the primary emotion in a relationship. At that point, it is important to assess. People drift. Have you drifted so far, it doesn’t make sense to stay together? Have you become part of a routine that doesn’t bring anyone in the partnership any joy? You can love someone by acting out of commitment rather than feeling for a long time. It’s an authentic and real form of love for another person, but does it reflect self-love? If not, and if it does not seem to be particularly appreciated or needed from a partner than maybe it’s no longer beneficial. Maybe not to either party. And maybe that is the bigger point.

A high school teacher once asked my class to describe how they knew they were in love. One girl said you knew you loved someone if you missed them. My teacher, who had been married for quite some time had a hard time not laughing. I’m sure he fantasied on the daily about being left alone in his house to lounge about in pajamas, binge-watching T.V. I remember thinking about what I had been taught about love — it is patient. Kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. I remember thinking that is what I wanted. But everyone knows that patience is not based on feeling — but a choice to ignore desire for a greater purpose. So, in that sense, love is rooted in values that transcend feeling. It’s admittedly tricky. Love must be felt genuinely. It must not violate one’s sense of self-respect. And it must absolutely give way to commitment when that is what is called upon. At the end of it is this: love is not meant to be simple. It is a conscious thing, living, breathing and making decisions all the time. Commitment doesn’t ruin it — it is merely an acknowledgment that shared feelings are not equal and must be bridged by something more substantial than emotion. Perhaps most importantly, balancing the emotion and commitment in a relationship is not meant to be done outside the framework of self-respect.

I was raised to believe that selflessness was the purest form of love. I believed that if I loved someone long enough, pure enough, and strong enough, then that would heal everything broken. After two abusive marriages, I am here to tell you that this is not the case. Love is not a magic wand, and selflessness is not the measure of your worth. Wherever you are in your relationship journey, my hope is that you will be able to take a critical look at love, your expectations, your commitment, and your joy. And that you will value all of it.

—

This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

***

You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:

White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism

Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box

The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer

What We Talk About When We Talk About Men

—

Photo credit: Shutterstock