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Jul. 3rd, 2004 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
msagaraA number of discussions have cropped up recently that have made me think about the nature of relationships and attraction.
A word of context: I'm married, happily, have 2 children, and a large extended family, much of which is not related to me genetically. I've spent a good number of years building family, although I have a quirky, reasonable one for the most part, by birth.
3 conversations, very abbreviated:
1. A poly friend recently commented that I have an essentially poly lifestyle, absent the sex.
2. A younger friend asked me my opinion about a relationship she's currently involved in. I answered, and then, thinking out loud and without the benefit of internal editing, added, "My answer would have been different at 16, 20, 25, 30 and now."
3. Another friend and I were talking about what constitutes attractive in other people, and I realized that much of our criteria differed wildly because of our different lives -- we're close in age, but not situation. When he asked me my, I said, "I'm never going to sleep with another person again in my life, god willing, so what's attractive to me has changed with time to reflect this."
It's not that I don't appreciate beauty, but physical beauty in the classic North American sense has never been compelling to me in that particular way; I appreciate it at a distance, as if it were an act of nature, like sunsets. (I admit that I was upset for days when Sergei Grinkov died, and it's tied into that). I don't trust hormones, and frankly, anyone who lives in my house two days of every month would agree that this is wise. The last time we moved, my son's godfather blamed PMS. He's waiting to see what I do to top that <wry g>.
But I've grown fond of specific things. Honesty, when it's not wielded like a blunt instrument. Strength, in the adage sense that strength without gentleness is a form of brutality. Laughter, especially the laughter that is informed by an awareness of and acceptance of flaws. The ability to be oneself. I don't care enormously for cool, because cool in the social sense (as opposed to the geek toy sense, which is exempted) requires a certain constant awareness of an audience, and even the desire for one -- which implies to me some surrender of self for the sake of image.
I love people who can grab life, make it bright and visceral by sheer enjoyment. I could sit at the feet of Nalo Hopkinson for days.
When I was 16, and love was a primal act of nature, it seemed involuntary; it had no context. It, too, was visceral, all-encompassing; it had an intensity that nothing else compares with.
Now, it's a continual act of responsibility, choice and commitment, slower and quieter.
I'm not consciously aware of changing -- if asked, I would say that I haven't really changed at all -- but I so clearly have.
And I'm wondering how other people feel about the way they've altered their negotiations with life over the years; what they've given up and what they've gained.
I should now add that I think about these things with the same intensity, and the same distance, that I think of novel structure and writing process -- that to me, in many ways, the discussion isn't personal, but is deeply relevant and deeply interesting. I realize that this isn't the case for everyone, and if no one answers, because it's None Of My Business, that's fine, too <rueful g>.
A word of context: I'm married, happily, have 2 children, and a large extended family, much of which is not related to me genetically. I've spent a good number of years building family, although I have a quirky, reasonable one for the most part, by birth.
3 conversations, very abbreviated:
1. A poly friend recently commented that I have an essentially poly lifestyle, absent the sex.
2. A younger friend asked me my opinion about a relationship she's currently involved in. I answered, and then, thinking out loud and without the benefit of internal editing, added, "My answer would have been different at 16, 20, 25, 30 and now."
3. Another friend and I were talking about what constitutes attractive in other people, and I realized that much of our criteria differed wildly because of our different lives -- we're close in age, but not situation. When he asked me my, I said, "I'm never going to sleep with another person again in my life, god willing, so what's attractive to me has changed with time to reflect this."
It's not that I don't appreciate beauty, but physical beauty in the classic North American sense has never been compelling to me in that particular way; I appreciate it at a distance, as if it were an act of nature, like sunsets. (I admit that I was upset for days when Sergei Grinkov died, and it's tied into that). I don't trust hormones, and frankly, anyone who lives in my house two days of every month would agree that this is wise. The last time we moved, my son's godfather blamed PMS. He's waiting to see what I do to top that <wry g>.
But I've grown fond of specific things. Honesty, when it's not wielded like a blunt instrument. Strength, in the adage sense that strength without gentleness is a form of brutality. Laughter, especially the laughter that is informed by an awareness of and acceptance of flaws. The ability to be oneself. I don't care enormously for cool, because cool in the social sense (as opposed to the geek toy sense, which is exempted) requires a certain constant awareness of an audience, and even the desire for one -- which implies to me some surrender of self for the sake of image.
I love people who can grab life, make it bright and visceral by sheer enjoyment. I could sit at the feet of Nalo Hopkinson for days.
When I was 16, and love was a primal act of nature, it seemed involuntary; it had no context. It, too, was visceral, all-encompassing; it had an intensity that nothing else compares with.
Now, it's a continual act of responsibility, choice and commitment, slower and quieter.
I'm not consciously aware of changing -- if asked, I would say that I haven't really changed at all -- but I so clearly have.
And I'm wondering how other people feel about the way they've altered their negotiations with life over the years; what they've given up and what they've gained.
I should now add that I think about these things with the same intensity, and the same distance, that I think of novel structure and writing process -- that to me, in many ways, the discussion isn't personal, but is deeply relevant and deeply interesting. I realize that this isn't the case for everyone, and if no one answers, because it's None Of My Business, that's fine, too <rueful g>.
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no subject
Date: 2004-07-04 06:03 am (UTC)Experience reshaped my views in both jerks and jiggles; sometime, oh, fifteen years ago I realized I fall in love polyamorously--gender doesn't matter, age, or much else, but these relationships outside of my primary one are all non-sexual--and they are all totally without boundary. Thus I love to see those I love in love with someone else, because the love radiates outward. It's been that way all my life, but it took me very long to recognize it, and the realization was enormously freeing. There is no place for possession or jealousy. Love is.
no subject
Date: 2004-07-04 09:02 am (UTC)Where, in this case, we're probably using the phrase "fall in love" in a different context.
Is part of the flip side of possession responsibility? Or perhaps I should rather ask, what makes the primary relationship primary? How do you handle these attachments that have no boundaries?
What I discovered when I was younger -- and I think I've changed, so this may not be true now, but I'm not in a hurry to test this hypothesis -- was that friendship without (emotional) boundary became very intimate emotionally -- and that led, inevitably and always, gender notwithstanding, to the question of sex, which then led to feelings of rejection, which then led to broken intimacy, and rupture :/. I'm not sure if this also had much to do with the age of the people at the time, this tying of the intimate with the sexual, this assumption that being close led to that particular state of relationship, and no other. It didn't have that connotation to me -- but I dislike causing people I'm close to pain, and I accepted that in general emotional parlance, it was going to be an issue.
I'm still mulling this over. We're talking about it as we make brunch, as well, and it's interesting because of the built-in assumptions that we (my husband and I) have that we haven't examined in decades (we've known each other for just over twenty years).
no subject
Date: 2004-07-04 03:18 pm (UTC)In my young days, the question of sex could derail a relationship that hadn't begun with friendship. A relationship that began with attraction very rarely turned into a non-sexual relationship. Friendship ones were easier to handle--and I still have many of those friendships, with male and female both. Some of those friendships are very intense (in fact two of the most intense and enduring are with men--both of these men married to other people. One of pushing thirty years, the other nearly twenty. And the nature of our relationship is fine with their respective spouses.)
I guess I want to say that communication seems to be the best road to balance, though emotional issues can be rocky road even when all have the best intentions. That's the volatile nature of emotion! But so far I have been pretty lucky to have tranquility in these matters. I cherish that.