Lost in the Stars
Current mood: Discouraged;
Category: Discouraged Romance and Relationships
How great a part of the relationship equation should be played by physical attraction? We all know that time diminishes the fireworks between two people. The initial chemistry can't continue full-strength, so when should we start relying on the other components of a relationship to determine whether the relationship will live?
I read an article in O! Magazine last year while waiting at a doctor's office. It was an old issue, and I don't know the date, but a therapist spoke about a turning point that all relationships face. It is a time with the physical chemistry cools, and the participants must make a decision whether to continue in the relationship. This can happen early, or as late as 2 years into the relationship. I faced this turning point in a past relationship after about 2 years. One day, I realized that the partner with whom I was living felt more like a roommate than a lover. The physical had stopped playing a large role, but our growth together as a couple hadn't picked up where it left off. I felt that I was no longer getting to know my partner better, we still were not sharing the same friends (or getting along with each others') or enjoying activities together. We had grown apart and needed to make the decision to separate.
If the physical fades sooner (or is not present at the beginning) is a couple fated only to friendship? What if you find someone who you respect, who shares your values, with whom you converse openly and easily, who understands your idiosyncracies, and with whom you could see yourself years down the road, but something isn't right with the chemistry? Can that be fixed? Can you work to create something like that? I spoke to a friend who said that he and his boyfriend did not click initially, but after they continued to date, the affection grew. I imagine a relationship to be like a tree. Is physical attraction merely the seed that starts the tree growing? Early in its life, a tree needs a lot of nurturing. Similarly, time spent together, communication, and effort from both parties is necessary early in a relationship. As the roots grow deeper, the trunk grows stronger. I see my parents' relationship as an old redwood. They just celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary. Their tree has certainly taken a few bumps. I know that there have been fights. But they continued to water their relationship tree. The roots have grown deeper and deeper, and now it would be impossible to pull them out of the ground completely. I have a few dead tree stumps in the land of my heart. Some relationships have started to grow only small roots before being chopped down. Others had years to grow. Every time I start something new with someone new, I dig a hole for that seed, water it, and hope it will grow. But the seed needs the nurturing of two people. If one decides not to fertilize, growth is stunted. If one stops watering, the ground grows hard and dry, and the roots shrivel up and die.
How can I know when to stop watering? I wish there was an equation or a formula, telling me when the right elements are present. Something to tell me when to add more vulnerability, when to cool, when to heat up, and when to walk away. Trouble is, each new relationship requires a completely different formula! "But I've been walking thru the night and day 'til my eyes get weary and my head turns grey. And sometimes it seems maybe God's gone away, forgetting the promise that we heard Him say. And we're lost out here in the stars: little stars, big stars, blowing thru the night. And we're lost out here in the stars." (Lost in the Stars--Kurt Weill)
How great a part of the relationship equation should be played by physical attraction? We all know that time diminishes the fireworks between two people. The initial chemistry can't continue full-strength, so when should we start relying on the other components of a relationship to determine whether the relationship will live?
I read an article in O! Magazine last year while waiting at a doctor's office. It was an old issue, and I don't know the date, but a therapist spoke about a turning point that all relationships face. It is a time with the physical chemistry cools, and the participants must make a decision whether to continue in the relationship. This can happen early, or as late as 2 years into the relationship. I faced this turning point in a past relationship after about 2 years. One day, I realized that the partner with whom I was living felt more like a roommate than a lover. The physical had stopped playing a large role, but our growth together as a couple hadn't picked up where it left off. I felt that I was no longer getting to know my partner better, we still were not sharing the same friends (or getting along with each others') or enjoying activities together. We had grown apart and needed to make the decision to separate.
If the physical fades sooner (or is not present at the beginning) is a couple fated only to friendship? What if you find someone who you respect, who shares your values, with whom you converse openly and easily, who understands your idiosyncracies, and with whom you could see yourself years down the road, but something isn't right with the chemistry? Can that be fixed? Can you work to create something like that? I spoke to a friend who said that he and his boyfriend did not click initially, but after they continued to date, the affection grew. I imagine a relationship to be like a tree. Is physical attraction merely the seed that starts the tree growing? Early in its life, a tree needs a lot of nurturing. Similarly, time spent together, communication, and effort from both parties is necessary early in a relationship. As the roots grow deeper, the trunk grows stronger. I see my parents' relationship as an old redwood. They just celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary. Their tree has certainly taken a few bumps. I know that there have been fights. But they continued to water their relationship tree. The roots have grown deeper and deeper, and now it would be impossible to pull them out of the ground completely. I have a few dead tree stumps in the land of my heart. Some relationships have started to grow only small roots before being chopped down. Others had years to grow. Every time I start something new with someone new, I dig a hole for that seed, water it, and hope it will grow. But the seed needs the nurturing of two people. If one decides not to fertilize, growth is stunted. If one stops watering, the ground grows hard and dry, and the roots shrivel up and die.
How can I know when to stop watering? I wish there was an equation or a formula, telling me when the right elements are present. Something to tell me when to add more vulnerability, when to cool, when to heat up, and when to walk away. Trouble is, each new relationship requires a completely different formula! "But I've been walking thru the night and day 'til my eyes get weary and my head turns grey. And sometimes it seems maybe God's gone away, forgetting the promise that we heard Him say. And we're lost out here in the stars: little stars, big stars, blowing thru the night. And we're lost out here in the stars." (Lost in the Stars--Kurt Weill)
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