Chapter 9 in the R.M. Dolin novel, “The Dangling Conversation,” December 29, 2022
KYLE: “They’re not the same and in your heart, you know it’s true. Just look at other people, experience is the ultimate arbitrator. Relationships start out magical with no complaints or complications, each side eager for the sun to set so they can pick up where they left off the night before. Over time though, one side tires, gets distracted, or even over satiated with the demands of togetherness; hell, maybe they just lose interest. We’re all prepackaged with excuses, you oughta at least give me that. In the end the what’s and why’s don’t much matter because the train always pulls into the same station.
“A Math teacher once called me an intellectual smart-ass; I hated math, especially story problems; they’re downright insulting. Some poor schmuck gets on a train in Philadelphia heading to Chicago at forty miles per hour; an hour later another sad sack boards the Boston to Chicago express at sixty miles an hour, who gets there first? Who even cares? Rather than solve the problem, I’d answer, “What difference does it make if the goal is to eat a Windy City hot dog?” A far better question is, if the guy from Philly is going to meet his lover and the guy from Boston to sign divorce papers, who’s carrying more anxiety? Ya see my point right, that’s a real-life question worthy of consideration.
“The same applies to what you’re saying, there’s no difference between the intimacy two adults share and my story of the two guys heading to Chicago, both require the same calculus. We can even evaluate the rate at which, how did you phrase it, “intimacy evaporates.” Just for fun, lets cast your scenario in the form of a story problem.
“Bob’s a lonely bachelor who meets Sally at the grocery store one sunny afternoon while picking out pineapples. After talking several hours over coffee and madeleines, they agree to meet again, then again, and again. The intensity of their intimacy when together is only eclipsed by the utter loneliness they experience when apart. How far into the relationship do they go before static equilibrium is reached? For additional bonus points, what ultimate fate awaits Bob and Sally after their descent from equilibrium?”
“Now this is a problem with some meat on the bone; here sits poor Bob, completely unaware that whatever he feels for Sally may not be equally reciprocated. Meanwhile, dear sweet Sally knows better than to put all her trust in a bachelor like Bob but can’t help herself; no matter how much life has taught her to proceed with caution she’s an all-in sorta gal.”
ISABELLE: “Static equilibrium, what an interesting way to describe the beginning of the end while capturing the three phases of love. Well maybe not love, per se, but at least love so much as it matriculates through a relationship. And your right, we begin with longing; feelings of profound intimacy punctuated by overwhelming loneliness. But it morphs over time to something more stable, what you call static equilibrium I call the comfort stage. Then of course, comes the inevitable decline, some are lucky enough to keep equilibrium in balance, but either way, it seems love is either on the rise, or in decline with only momentary flashes of stability.”
KYLE: “Since we agree relationships follow a recursive pattern, we can construct a calculus to quantify outcomes. We can only apply the calculus across a general population, and it can’t be conclusively validated for reasons we’ll get to. We’ll speak in general terms while recognizing that for some cases exceptions must be made. Engineers like to say, “Math has rules, but literature is for lovers,” because for any grammatical rule one might make, there’s always exceptions. The irony is that a calculus for love must be based on formulas and rules while allowing for the age-old axiom, “exceptions make the rules.”
ISABELLE: “I’m not convinced such a calculus is possible, next you’ll say we can develop a spreadsheet for managing hell; I can already hear you saying they’re the same. I’ll give you there’s a predictable ebb and flow and love is the dominate player. I’ll even concede that ultimately an equilibrium must be reached on some level, but it’s not possible to plug variables into a formula and a result magically pops out. You’re supposing fate controls everything with no room for free will. Certainly, elements of destiny exist, but when two people are committed, they override inevitable outcomes.
“You’re right about one thing, there is a lead-up to equilibrium that precipitates the downfall. For me, the equilibrium phase matters most because it sets the tone for everything. Let me ask you this Professor, since your calculus concludes with relationship demise, does equilibrium cause the end of love or is it the other way around? This matters because causation matters.
“My Ex and I start hot, maybe not Bob and Sally hot, but if I didn’t experience the heat, I wouldn’t recognize the frost. We were tender, enjoyed spending time together, but was there passion? Was there an endless aching need? Is there supposed to be? Don’t you think the whole love at first sight, two-halves of the same soul, malarkey is a false flag built on childish fantasy? Yes, we had intimacy, but was it the kind where you feel yourself being absorbed by another? Physically satisfying but emotionally wanting, that’s how I describe it.
“He has a different take. Out of the blue one day he accuses me of being selfish; says I used to care about his needs but don’t anymore. It’s not that I didn’t care, I just stopped feeling sex as a necessary component in our relationship, I’d evolved to a higher state. He, unfortunately, failed to evolve and I don’t know if it’s a him-thing or a man-thing, but he equates love with sex and any rejection of physical intimacy on my part is, in his estimation, a rejection of him. Maybe I am selfish, or maybe sex just stopped being a priority. Either way he starts pressuring me, and the more he pressures the less inclined I am until he’s sleeping in one room and I’m in another with an unspoken tension I can neither stand nor understand.
“The start is so vastly different than the end, out of necessity I suppose. But that doesn’t make your formula meaningful or correct. You assert an inevitable end, and maybe it is, I mean we wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise. But there’s multiple ways to have, how did you say it, “the trains pulling into the same station.” In one scenario, both sides start hot but over time they tapper off together as equilibrium finds it’s comfort zone. The other scenario also starts hot, but one side lets things cool, while the other keeps stoking the flames of passion, which is impossible to sustain. When one side defines love through sex and the other transcends to a higher form of intimacy the tension grows into conflict, which metastasizes through the soul of a relationship like stage four cancer.
“In my first scenario, both sides have peace, probably not romance, but peace is a form of love; or at least tranquil cohabitation. I’m not sure passion is meant to be enduring, and shouldn’t we expect love to evolve into something more, or is that what people who live loveless lives feel compelled to say? My Ex has no right calling me selfish? Am I wrong to expect love to transcend the physical or am I only fooling myself. The problem is I don’t know, and it feels like I’m on the outside looking in. For the record, I wasn’t satisfied that my marriage declined, I don’t suppose anyone really is, at least not those who are honest. I tried to retain the feelings from the start to re-capture the intensity we once shared and hold it prisoner, but flames can’t be reignited to their original glory.
“I can bore you with the what’s and why’s but in the end, what remains is frustration and vain attempts to convince myself my relationship had grown into something eclipsing sex, something deeper that’s liberating, frustrating, empty, and full all at once, while at the same time vacantly incomplete. I can’t point to what was missing or what when wrong, other than something was, and something did. What I know is once it ended, the heavy burdens and responsibilities of having to pretend were lifted. But in embracing this new reality, I assesses successful couples longing to learn how they manage to keep love alive, and I find myself, I don’t know, in angry denial, maybe even jealous. All that’s left is the postmortem, and what I’ve learned so far is surrender is not a form of transcendence, but I stand nonetheless convicted of my crimes.”
KYLE: “I parse the world in simple terms and for me there are two personalities in relationships; Poets and Novelists. Poets are driven by passion and a need to express it in various ways, including intense physical intimacy. They feel the world on deeply profound levels and need to be connected with those who can withstand the strain of raw emotions. On the other hand, Novelists are practical observers operating the sidelines of life. They watch and report but seldom engage in ways that cause any kind of profoundness. They’re drawn more to calm predictability than excited luster and approach the world from an attitude of acceptance rather than the clamor of chaos. It’s not possible for Poets to transcend feelings of passion into the patented pragmatism of a Novelist; the experiences and observations of both validate the stark realities of life but from opposite ends of the spectrum. Novelist quickly settle for peace because their world repeatedly demonstrates love was never meant to be anything more than a staging point along the journey toward their brand of happiness, while Poets believe love must be lived in the moment.
“Your second scenario involves a Poet and Novelist caught in a relationship filled with anguished conflict. When their train pulls into the station, there is no joy because while the Novelist is willing to trade passion for peace the Poet cannot. This is the easiest way to separate true poets from pretenders, Poets have an unquenchable desire to drink the wine of life; they never give up wanting to carry the initial intensity they feel at the start through all downstream phases. For them relationships are fraught with anguish, frustration, and intense feelings of loss and suffering because their partner is incapable of reciprocate their needs long term. The most unfair pairing of people is a Novelist with a Poet; two lives that cannot mesh long term because each loves differently and while each desires intimacy, their definitions are divergently doomed.
“Novelists seek out places to rest where there’s no need to worry about expectations and passion. They can live without sex, even without the tenderness of another’s touch. They’re full, with no need for anything to change or ever be different. They convince themselves they’re at peace, but as you said, surrender is not a form of transcendence. They can’t be at peace because their Poet partner wants more, needs to feel a closeness the Novelist is incapable of providing. The Poet grows frustrated, exerting pressure on the Novelist in ways the Poet may not even realize. This increasing pressure leads to tension, tension to strife, until it can no longer be restrained; until one or the other does something that can’t be repaired. Once damage is inflicted, things can only end by either negotiating terms of a joint surrender that allows them to stay together and suffer in silence, or to separate in the hope of finding a proper pairing with someone new.
“The Poet is more anguished because while the Novelist feels the pressure to provide more, they’re full. Meanwhile, the Poet is empty, devoid of things essential to sustain their life. Imagine two people underwater with air hoses, one has all the air they need but their hose has too much pressure forcing them to deal with the excess. They’re in no danger of dying, but they’re constantly uncomfortable. Suppose the other person has only a fraction of the air they need and are slowly being starved of life. They look at their partner with all that air to give who is unwilling to share, even as they slowly die. Who suffers more and who’s more tragic?”
ISABELLE: “Your analogy sucks! You paint your Poet as a poor tragic soul who should be pitied, while your Novelist is demonstrably evil, denying life to their dying partner. No one with an abundance of something would deny the excess to someone in need, be it air, or love, or whatever. I admit I’m no Poet, but I’ll be dammed if I’ll let you label me a Novelist! My Ex would, he’ll say I starved him of love, but he’s no prince either and certainly not a Poet. Damn you all to hell anyway! I wasn’t selfish, even if I do stand accused. And yes, I did evolve in our relationship, and yes, there was constant pressure to provide more, and maybe, on some level I’m guilty of not providing the intimacy he desired. I was capable of giving more, I just didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t. Maybe I didn’t want to; certainly, I shouldn’t have to. At the same time, he’s no Poet, I can assure you of that.
“The problem with your simplifications is they fail to take into account other complicating factors. Maybe I withheld sex because he was a shit and didn’t deserve it, what does your calculus say about that? I’m sure you’ll just counter by saying he was a shit because I withheld sex, such a wonderfully convenient high horse you’ve create for yourself. Judging me, who the hell are you; you know nothing about me and certainly didn’t live my life. I’ll admit to trending toward being a pragmatic realist, but I can at times be passionate, you need to know that. Even though it’s hard to sustain a Poet’s level of intensity I have my moments, flashes of passion same as anyone. He’s no Poet, that much would be obvious if you visited my world back then.”
KYLE: “Sorry to offend you, it wasn’t my intent and of course it’s a broad generalization to put everyone in every relationship into one of two bins. But the thing is, even if we throw up a hundred subdivisions, it doesn’t change the outcome, only the fidelity of distinction and the amplitude of frustration. My simple two-bin approach provides an effective structure for the calculus. Does it fully capture the nuance of every relationship? No, but as Descartes demonstrates before Newton steals calculus and calls it his own, even as the number of bins approaches infinity, there’ll always be unaccounted cases in the voids.
“So, if you’ll indulge me and if we can agree I’m talking in general terms and not about you, the way I see it there are three possible pairings:
(1) A Novelist with a Novelist,
(2) A Novelist with a Poet, and
(3) Two Poets together.
“It’s interesting to quantify the approximate ratio of novelist to poets. We probably all have a guess based on people we know, and I’m sure Behavioral Scientist have tons of studies homing in on a correct division. If I had to guess, I’d say half the world thinks they’re poets but probably less than ten percent really are. But just for fun, let’s suppose half the people in the world fall into the category of Novelist and the other half are Poets. Suppose I give you two coins and ask you to flip them one hundred times, let’s agree that when both coins are heads it means two Novelist pair up. When both coins come up tails, two Poets pair. When one coin is heads while the other’s tails, it means a Novelist pairs with a Poet.
“In a totally random world, which doesn’t really exist, after one-hundred flips, one fourth of the pairings would result in two heads, one fourth in two tails, and half the time one head and one tail. I need to point out, as you so eloquently did, just because a Novelist pairs with a Novelist, or a Poet with a Poet it by no means assures the outcome will be harmonious. That being said, we know when a Novelist pairs with a Poet there’s little potential for long term bliss.
“We need to also distinguish the difference between surface and meaningful harmony. Many couples appear on the surface to be a perfect picture of relationship bliss when underneath things long ago went to shit. I bet you knew long before your marriage officially ended that things were over, but you cosmetically sustained appearances. I’ll even wager you invested more in propping up appearances than you did in rescuing your relationship. This is one reason we can never know if my calculus is correct, people pretend, which is often all that’s left after equilibrium. Think of your friends, your parents; think of their friends and parents. If you extend that across the globe, imagine the staggering number of relationships where all that remains is pretending. It’s the entire reason social media exists, so people can project a wonderful life even as they’re descending through Dante’s nine levels of Hell.
“My calculus pierces the veil of pretend telling us way more than half of all relationships are doomed from the start, not from the standpoint of ending in divorce, but in the sense that one or both people in the relationship are frustrated and feeling less than loved by their partner but pretend to be in love anyway. A rational person would look at this and surmise, “what the hell, it’s better to just be alone?” The problem isn’t that most of us are irrational or that we foolishly believe we’ll beat the odds, it’s that instinct trumps logic, so we simply don’t give it much thought, especially early on when the passion and intimacy we hope to sustain are running full-tilt hot. There is of course a small cohort who embrace love’s ability to prevail and sustain two people to the end, odds be damned, but that’s the limited subpopulation of our Poet group who are true poets.”
ISABELLE: “I concede your logic, but not your conclusion. You’re wrong to believe the fifty percent who fall into your broad Novelist paired with Poet category are doomed. I think it’s just the opposite. Yes, a Poet partnered to a Novelist is eventually frustrated by their partner’s lack of passion and they do suffer from not receiving the level of intimacy they desire, but they survive by shifting their passions to something more productive, like art or community service. When this shift occurs, they transcend love by clearing away the clutter caused by physical intimacy to allow more evolved forms of themselves to nurture. Dante’s Hell is reserved for those who can’t, for whatever reason won’t, evolve and instead stay locked in the physically defined form of love.
“And yes, a Novelist partnered to a Poet must learn to manage the constant pressure to provide more. Their partner may say they’re selfish, but maybe what they really are is a guide to higher forms of love. The journey can be arduous but eventually the Novelist figures out how to balance some level of intimacy with the pressure to provide more. These couples live in a constant state of tension, neither getting the level or kind of love they seek, and maybe on some level it’s what keeps them in the game. In that sense they reaffirm their commitment to each other, so surface harmony is synchronized with their meaningful harmony.
“When a Novelist, as you define them, pairs with another Novelist, they grow their relationship over time into a stale partnership devoid of any form of tenderness other than the kind shared in a business arrangement. There is no tension, just quiet acquiescence, and could anything be more sad and pitiful than two people staying together when neither can list three meaningful reasons why. To me, it’s like two strangers sentenced to share a prison cell, they have no hope of escape so just make the best of it and when you contrast that with the one perfect life each hopes to live, it is a tragic loss. They may have peace, and they may even share some bizarre level of intimacy, but I believe if they’re given the chance for a redo, they’ll jump at the opportunity.
“That’s why I got out. I assess my stale relationship, my inability to provide more than I think he deserves, how his constant pressure wears me down, how the one perfect life I want to live is being extinguished, and I know, I have to get out. No matter how upsetting, or tragic, or mean-spirited it seems, I have to escape. Once your inner soul awakens to the fact it’s trapped inside a life bound by unhappiness, something must be done. I may mostly be a Novelist, but my Ex is certainly no Poet, and for me, this is the saddest of the three outcomes.
KYLE: “You oddly argue against my calculus by claiming to be the exception that makes the rule, and if it’s any consolation, not only are you not alone, you made the right choice. We only get one life but can have many shots at the rainbow and one of the most fundamental facts in this world is that when nothing is changed, nothing will change, so, good for you putting yourself on the path to try again. Hopefully, this go around, you’re a little wiser and more honest about what you can offer and expect in return. I’ve had more than one redo and each time I dive back in believing I’m wiser, and yet, the pot of gold remains as elusive as ever.
“I don’t want to throw cold water on a great debate, but there’s another outcome we’ve yet to explore; what about the person opting to be alone? I’m not sure how much it matters if they ended up alone by chance or choice, but their outcome should at least be addressed. If we’re conducting an experiment involving one-hundred trials, this outcome doesn’t impact the resulting distribution. But is that fair, and does it mimic life? On the one hand we can say no one chooses to be alone, they only end up that way due to unfortunate circumstances. Yet, there are those who consciously make that choice, but they’re in the noise. No one starts out to be alone, they just wind up that way. So, in the end, I assert that the number of people who choose to be alone, or wind up alone as the result of events outside their control, are mathematically insignificant.
“The distribution also doesn’t consider those of us that have multiple goes at the coin toss. Given that a random participant in our game has a fifty-fifty chance of being either a Novelist or a Poet and a fifty percent chance that the second coin tossed is a match with them, there’s only a twenty-five percent chance they’ll get the match they need on their first pairing. This means, on average, we need at least four relationships to find the one that brings us the love seek, the love we need without superficial pretending. Of course, there’ll be those who beat the odds and find a blissful pairing on the first, second, or third go, but also there’ll be those who don’t after five, six, or seven tries. When you add in the number who give up after one or more failed pairings, you conclude my mom’s right in saying I’ll likely spend most my life alone, which is why she prepares me for this outcome.
“While focusing on the odds of finding a partner that provides the relationship we seek is informative, it doesn’t address the root cause of why we’re destined to be alone, even when we’re with someone. The heart is a lonely wanderer and to really auger in their journey, we must distinguish between people who are alone by choice and those who, through a series of unfortunate circumstances, end up alone but want to be with someone. Then of course, there’s the far greater number of people who are alone inside a relationship and choose to stay, which is the saddest form of loneliness. My calculus does not yet account for this demographic, and likely never will.”
ISABELLE: “I am alone right now, and that is by choice, but I don’t intend to stay that way, which is another choice. I mean I have Henry, but we’ve yet to solidify our relationship. Either way, I remain optimistic, so, in that sense maybe I have a bit of Poet in me. You captured this moment perfectly a while back when you quoted some guy who said, “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” This applies here because that’s what you’re describing, two people in a relationship who start out warm and tender only to have things turn to shit over time. And your thing about what’s on the surface and what’s meaningful, that’s another way of describing desperation.
“I’ll be the first to admit life’s full of flaws, but hopefulness prevails. The fallacy of your formula is that there’s no optimism variable and that trumps both pragmatic realism and passion. Maybe the reason I was selfish is because I knew he wasn’t my forever person. The difference between me and the “mass of men,” is I chose not to live in quiet desperation. I got out because I’m optimistic enough to believe my perfect future is still in front of me. What does your calculus say about that, about the ones who refuse surrender or pretend?”
KYLE: “We addressed you in our distribution. Remember I said on average a person has to endure three bad relationships before they win the grand door prize. You’ve got one in the books, which means you’re just getting started. At the same time, an average is just that, for every person who needs four goes at the roulette wheel, someone just needs one, so, who knows, you could strike it rich with Henry, or he could be the one helping you get where you need to be.
“I needed two spins to find Nadia, only I didn’t know it. So, I took a third, only to later realize my oversight, but then fate led me back to Nadia for a redo. Sometimes that’s how things work, we want a linear solution, but life doesn’t feel the need to accommodate. The interesting thing about my calculus is that it explains the what’s and why’s of my past but does nothing to predict my future. It will be the same for you. That’s the real fallacy in my formula, it’s only useful for postmortems and dissecting causation but at the end of the day, that has no lasting value.
“When you find Mr. Right, my mathematics can’t do anything other than highlight the hard road ahead. How you choose to exercise your options is completely up to you, it always is, even with your Ex it was. I don’t think you’re selfish for wanting out or wanting more. As you so eloquently put it, we each only get one perfect life and the most tragic thing we can do is squander it. I make no judgments about whether you should have tried harder or sacrificed more or remained in a stale relationship under constant strain for the sake of surface appearances, there are enough people out there practicing that fine art, and even more willing to share their opinions on it.
“I only know what I know based on having been around the block a time or two and it doesn’t amount to much. I know that passion and physical intimacy are important parts of how Poets define love but struggle to gage the extent others require less. What’s important is being honest about your needs and wants so both sides can decide what harmonious transcendence looks like and if it can be sustained after equilibrium.”
