Is it love, or a mutual strangulation
society? Martha Beck shows you five ways to get a real grip on the real
thing.
By Martha Beck
In a folktale that has been retold for
centuries in many variations (one of which is Shakespeare's King Lear),
an elderly king asks his three daughters how much they love him. The two older
sisters deliver flowery speeches of filial adoration, but the youngest says
only "I love you as meat loves salt." The king, insulted by this
homely simile, banishes the youngest daughter and divides his kingdom between
the older two, who promptly kick him out on his royal heinie. He seeks refuge
in the very house where his third daughter is working as a scullery maid.
Recognizing her father, the daughter asks the cook to prepare his meal without
salt. The king eats a few tasteless mouthfuls, then bursts into tears.
"All along," he cries, "it was my youngest daughter who really
loved me!" The daughter reveals herself and all ends happily (except in King
Lear, where pretty much everybody dies).
This story survived throughout Europe for a very long time because it is highly
instructive: It reminds listeners that in matters of love, choosing style over
substance is disastrous. It also helps us know when we're making that mistake.
Salt is unique in that its taste doesn't cover up the food it seasons but
enhances whatever flavor was there to begin with. Real love, real commitment,
does the same thing.
Each of the following five statements is the polar opposite of what most
Americans see as loving commitment. But these are "meat loves salt"
commitments, as necessary as they are unconventional. Only if you and your
beloved can honestly say them to each other is your relationship likely to
thrive
1.
I can live without you, no problem.
"I can't live," wails the singer, "if living is without
you." It sounds so tragically deep to say that losing your lover's
affections would make life unlivable—but have you ever been in a relationship
with someone whose survival truly seemed to depend on your love? Someone who
sat around waiting for you to make life bearable, who threatened to commit
suicide if you ever broke up? Or have you found yourself on the grasping side
of the equation, needing your partner the way you need oxygen? The emotion that
fuels this kind of relationship isn't love; it's desperation. It can feel
romantic at first, but over time it invariably fails to meet either partner's
needs.
The statement "I can't survive without you" reflects not adult
attraction but infancy, a phase when we really would have died if our
caretakers hadn't stayed close by, continuously anticipating our needs. The
hunger for total nurturing usually means we're in the middle of a psychological
regression, feeling like abandoned infants who need parenting now, now, now! If
this is how you feel, don't start dating. Start therapy. Counseling can teach
you how to get your needs met by the only person responsible for them: you. The
"I can't live without you" syndrome ends when we learn to care for
ourselves as tenderly and attentively as a good mother. At that point, we're
ready to form stable, lasting attachments that can last a lifetime. "I can
live without you" is an assurance that sets the stage for real love.
2. My love for you will definitely change.
Most human beings seem innately averse to change. Once we've established some
measure of comfort or stability, we want to nail it in place so that there's no
possibility of loss. It's understandable, then, that the promise "My love
for you will never change" is a hot seller. Unfortunately, this is another
promise that is more likely to scuttle a relationship than shore it up.
The reason is that everything—and everyone—is constantly changing. We age,
grow, learn, get sick, get well, gain weight, lose weight, find new interests,
and drop old ones. And when two individuals are constantly in flux, their
relationship must be fluid to survive. Many people fear that if their love is free
to change, it will vanish. The opposite is true. A love that is allowed to
adapt to new circumstances is virtually indestructible. Infatuation relaxes
into calm companionship, then flares again as we see new things to love about
each other. In times of trouble and illness, obligation may feel stronger than
attraction—until one day we realize that hanging in there through troubled
times has bonded us more deeply than ever before. Like running water, changing
love finds its way past obstacles. Freezing it in place makes it fragile,
rigid, and all too likely to shatter.
3. You're not everything I need.
I'm a big fan of sexual monogamy, but I'm puzzled by lovers who claim that
their romantic partner is the only person they need in their lives or that time
together is the only activity necessary for emotional fulfillment. Humans are
designed to live in groups, explore ideas, and constantly learn new skills.
Trying to get all this input from one person is like trying to get a full range
of vitamins by eating only ice cream. When a couple believes "We must
fulfill all of each other's needs," each becomes exhausted by the effort
to be all things to the other and neither can develop fully as an individual.
It amazes me how often my clients' significant others feel threatened when the
clients revive childhood passions or take up new hobbies. I encourage people to
bring their spooked spouses to a session so we can discuss their fears. The
hurt partners usually come in sounding something like this: "How come you
have to spend three hours a week playing tennis (or gardening or painting)? Are
you saying I'm not enough to keep you happy?" The healthiest response to
such questions is "That's right, our relationship isn't enough to make me
completely happy—and if I pretended it were, I'd stunt my soul and poison my
love for you. Ever thought about what you'd like to do on your own?"
Sacrificing all our individual needs doesn't strengthen a relationship.
Mutually supporting each other's personal growth does.
4. I won't always hold you close.
There's a thin line between a romantic statement like "I love you so much,
I want to share my life with you until death do us part" and the
lunatic-fringe anthem "I love you so much that if you try to leave me,
I'll kill you." People who say such things love others the way spiders
love flies; they love to capture them, wrap them in immobilizing fetters, and
drain nourishment out of them at peckish moments. This is not the kind of love
you want.
The way you can tell real love from spider love is simple: Possessiveness and
exploitation involve controlling the loved one, whereas true love is based on
setting the beloved free to make his or her own choices. How you use the word make
is also a tip-off. When you hear yourself saying "He makes me feel X"
or "He made me do Y," you're playing the victimized, trussed-up fly.
Even more telling are sentences like "I've got to make him see that he's
wrong" or "I'll hide what I really think because it would make him
angry." You are not the victim but the crafty spider, withholding and
using manipulation to control your mate's feelings and actions. Either strategy
means that someone is being held too close, wrapped in spider silk.
Getting out of this sticky situation is simple: Tell the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth. Begin by taking responsibility for your own
choices—including the choice to obey the spider man who may have you in his
thrall. Then communicate your real feelings, needs, and desires to your
partner, without trying to force the reaction you want. If your relationship
can't thrive in the clear light of honesty, it is better to get out of it than
to sink further into manipulation and control.
5. You and I aren't one.
Perhaps you are neither a spider nor a fly but a chameleon who morphs to match
the one
you love. Or you may date chameleons, choosing partners who conform to
your personality. Either way, you're not in a healthy relationship. In fact,
you're not in a relationship at all.
I used to tune in so acutely to my loved ones' wants and needs that I literally
didn't know my own. This denial of self ultimately turned into resentment,
poisoning several close relationships. Then—once burned, twice shy—I went
briefly to the opposite extreme. I found myself having a lot of lackluster
lunches with folks who hung on my every word and agreed with everything I said.
Narcissistic I may be, but Narcissus I'm not; hanging out with a human
looking-glass, no matter how flattering, left me lonely.
If you're living by the "We are one" ideal, it's high time you found
out how terrific love for two can be. Follow your heart in a direction your
partner wouldn't go. Dare to explore your differences. Agree to disagree. If
you're accustomed to disappearing, this will allow you to see that you can be
loved as you really are. If you tend to dominate, you'll find out how
interesting it is to love an actual person rather than a human mirror.
Buddha
once said that just as we can know the ocean because it always tastes of salt,
we can recognize enlightenment because it always tastes of freedom. There's no
essential difference between real love and enlightenment. While many people see
commitment as a trap, its healthy versions actually free both lovers, bring out
the flavor of their true selves, and build a love that is satisfying, lasting,
and altogether delicious.
