Chapter 9 in R.M. Dolin’s book, “The Dangling Conversation,” December 29, 2022
KYLE: “They’re not the same and I’m not suggesting they are, in your heart of hearts you know it’s true. All we have to do is look at other people, experience is the ultimate arbitrator. Relationships always start out wonderful 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, perhaps gets distracted, or even over satiated with all the demands of romance and togetherness; hell, maybe they just lose interest. Bottom line is we all got excuses; you should at least grant me that. In the end the what’s and why’s of each individual relationship don’t much matter because the train always pulls into the same station.
“Back in high school my Math teacher called me an intellectual smart-ass, used to say I’m the one student he’ll never forget; and not in a good way; it wasn’t just because I was bad at math, I was downright disruptive. I hated math, especially story problems; they’re all the same. Some poor schmuck gets on a train in Philadelphia heading to Chicago at forty miles per hour while an hour later another sad sack boards the Boston to Chicago express at sixty miles hours, who gets there first? It’s such an uninteresting question; I mean who really cares? So, rather than solve the problem, I’d answer with something like, ‘What difference does it make if the goal it to eat Chicago style hot dog?’ My point’s the same then as it is now, what difference do the what’s and why’s matter when we’re forced to face down an inevitable outcome? A far better question to consider would be, if the guy from Philly is going to meet his lover and the guy from Boston is going to sign his divorce papers, who’s carrying more anxiety; ya see my point right, that’s a real-life question worthy of contemplation.
“The same applies to what you’re saying, maybe I chose to cast it as a story problem, but there’s no difference between the intimacy two adults share in a relationship and my story of the two guys journeying to Chicago for diametrically opposite reasons, both require the same calculus. Perhaps we can even express the rate at which, how did you phrase it, ‘intimacy evaporates.’ In fact, just for fun, lets cast your scenario in the form of a story problem, this is how I’d frame it.
“Bob meets Sally at the grocery store on a 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 the intimacy they share 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 achieved? Additionally, how long does it take before intimacy begins to wane? For additional bonus points, what ultimate fate awaits Bob and Sally after their descent from equilibrium?”
“Now this is a problem worth solving; 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 the likes of Bob but can’t help herself; no matter how much life has taught her to proceed with caution she’s an all-in sorta girl.”
ISABELLE: “Static equilibrium, what a proper way to describe the beginning of the end while capturing the three phases of love. Well maybe not love, per say, but at least love so much as it lives in a relationship having a beginning, a middle, and an end. And your right, relationships begin with longing; to feel the intimacy of another punctuated by the overwhelming loneliness in one’s soul when apart. But that morphs over time to something more stable, what you call static equilibrium; I call it the comfortable stage, but like your definition better. Then of course, there’s the inevitable decline, maybe some are lucky enough to keep equilibrium from dissipating, but either way, it seems love, or at least the love that lives in relationships, is either on the rise, or in a slow but necessary decent with only a moment of cherished equilibrium at its apex.”
KYLE: “So if, as you concede, every relationship follows the same recursive pattern, there’s no reason we can’t construct a calculus to capture the phases in a quantifiable manner. I’m unsure if this is possible or how it applies across a general population, and it certainly can’t be conclusively validated. Perhaps a work around is to speak in general terms while recognizing that for a special few, exceptions must be made. Back in engineering school we used to say that ‘Math follows rules, but literature is for lovers,’ because for any grammatical rule they might make, there’s always exceptions. How this applies here is that if there’s to be a calculus for love based on formulas and rules, then we have to occasionally allow for the age-old axiom, ‘exceptions make the rule.’”
ISABELLE: “I’m not convinced a calculus for love is possible, next you’ll say we can develop a spreadsheet for managing hell. I’ll give you there’s a predictable ebb and flow to relationships and love is the dominate player; I’ll even concede that ultimately an equilibrium must be reached, but it’s not possible to have a formula that you plug a bunch of variables into and out pops an outcome; you’re supposing fate controls everything leaving no room for free will. I believe people control their fate, there are certainly elements of destiny, but when two people are committed to each other, they override whatever inevitable outcomes your calculus could predict.
“You’re right about one thing though, there’s a lead-up to equilibrium, that may or may not end in downfall, which is where I differ from you. In my opinion, the equilibrium phase matters most because what happens there sets the course for everything. Let me ask you this, since your calculus concludes with relationship demise, does equilibrium cause the end of love or is it the other way around? For me, this is the most important question because causation matters.
“My Ex and I started hot, I wouldn’t say Bob and Sally hot, but if I didn’t experience the heat, I wouldn’t have recognized the frost. We were tender and kind toward each other, and enjoyed many of the same things, 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, thing is a false reality built on childish fantasy? Yes, we had intimacy, but was it the kind where you feel yourself being absorbed by another, no. Physically satisfying but emotionally wanting, that’s how I’d describe it.
“He, however, had a different take. Out of the blue one day he starts accusing me of being a selfish lover; says I used to care about his needs but now don’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, I just stopped feeling sex was a necessary ingredient in our relationship, that we had 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 equated love with sex and any rejection of physical intimacy on my part was, in his estimation, a rejection of our love and affection. Maybe I was selfish, or maybe sex just stopped being a priority; something of diminishing value. 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 sleeping 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 end that’s inevitable, 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 pull into the same station.’ In one scenario, both sides start out hot and heavy but over time tapper off as equilibrium finds their comfort zones. The other scenario also starts out hot but over time one side becomes content to let things cool, while the other keeps stoking the flames of passion, which is impossible to sustain without reciprocity. When one side defines love through sex and the other transcends to a higher form of intimacy the tension grows into conflict, which eats away at the soul of a relationship like stage four cancer that can’t be treated.
“In the first scenario, both sides have peace, probably not love as described in romance novels, but peace is a form of love; or at least tranquil cohabitation, which is a transcendent kind of love. I’m not sure passion is supposed to endure forever, and shouldn’t we expect love to evolve into something more profound; or is that just something people who live loveless lives feel compelled to say? Was my Ex wrong to call me selfish? Am I wrong to expect love to transcend the physical, or am I only fooling myself, justifying my inevitable outcome in favorable terms.
“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 after achieving equilibrium, I don’t suppose anyone really is, at least not those who can be honest. I tried to retain the feelings from the start, to capture the intensity we once shared and hold it prisoner. I just couldn’t. We could spend hours delving into 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 more profound, something not dependent on physicality.
“It’s liberating, frustrating, empty, and full all at once, while at the same time vacantly incomplete. I can’t point to specifically what was missing or what when wrong, other than to say something did. What I know is that once it was over, I was free from the heavy burdens and responsibilities of having to pretend. But even while embracing this new reality, I found myself constantly assessing successful couples longing to learn how they manage to keep love alive, and I was, I don’t know, jealous. Now all that’s left is the postmortem, and what I’ve learned so far is that surrender is not a form of transcendence, but I am nonetheless lost between the two.”
KYLE: “I parse the world in simple terms and for me there are two types of personalities in a relationship; Poets and Novelists. Poets are driven by passion and a need to express it in various ways, including intense physical intimacy. Poets feel the world on deeply profound levels and need to be connected with those who can withstand the strain of their raw emotions. Novelists on the other hand, are practical people working 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 melancholy than excited luster, and approach the world from the calmness of acceptance rather than the clamor of chaos.
“It’s not possible for Poets to transcend feelings of passion or hopefulness into the sully pessimism of the Novelist, whose experience and observations validate the stark realities of life. The Novelist is quick to settle for peace in relationships because their world repeatedly demonstrates love was never meant to be anything more than a stopping point along the journey toward transcending into a state of peace.
“Your second scenario involves a Poet and Novelist who are caught in a relationship filled with anguished conflict. When their train pulls into the station, there is no transcendence 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 to the bitter end, they never give up on wanting to carry the initial intensity they feel in a relationship through all downstream phases. For them relationships are fraught with anguish, frustration, and intense feelings of loss and suffering because their partner struggles to reciprocate their needs. 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 different.
“When a Novelists is partnered with a Poet, the Novelists seek out places to rest where there is no need to worry about expectations and passion. They can live without sex, without intimacy, even the tenderness of another’s touch. They’re full, with no need for anything to change or ever be different. They struggle to 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 cannot 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 they separate in the hope of finding a proper pairing with someone new.
“The Poet paired with a Novelist is the more anguished of the two. 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 only has 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 whose situation is more tragic? I argue the Poet paired with a Novelist is the one who deserves our pity.”
ISABELLE: “Your analogy sucks big time! You paint your Poet as some tragic soul who should be pitied, while your Novelist is almost evil, denying air 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, but he’s no prince either and certainly not a Poet. Damn you all to hell anyway! I wasn’t a selfish lover, 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 my Ex desired. I’ll concede I was capable of giving more, I just didn’t, I don’t know, maybe I couldn’t, maybe I didn’t want to; certainly, I shouldn’t have to. At the same time though, he’s no Poet, I can attest to that.
“The problem with your simplified view of relationships is that it fails 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 tower to live in. Judging me, who the hell are you; you know nothing about me and certainly didn’t live my life. I’ll admit to tending toward being a sully realist at times, but I can just as often be filled with passion, 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 the same as anyone else. He’s no Poet, that much would be obvious if you visited my world back then.”
KYLE: “Sorry if I offended 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 came up with 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 even if I add a million more bins, there would still be left over 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 of people in relationships:
(1) A Novelist with a Novelist,
(2) A Novelist with a Poet, and
(3) Two Poets together.
“What’s interesting to work though before proceeding, is quantifying the approximate ratio of novelist to poets. We probably all have a guess based on people we’ve known, and I’m sure Behavioral Scientist have tons of studies honing in on a correct ratio, but 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. Now suppose I give you two coins and ask you to flip them together one hundred times, let’s pretend the number of times the two coins both come up heads represents the number of times two Novelist pair up. Alternatively, the number of times the two coins both come up tails, represents the number of times two Poets pair up. Finally, the number of times one coin comes up heads while the other tails, is the number of times 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, which represents a Novelist paired with a Novelist, one fourth a Poet with a Poet, and half of the time two people in a relationship wind up being a Novelist paired with a Poet. I need to point out, as you so eloquently did, just because a Novelist pairs up with a Novelist, or a Poet with a Poet 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 also need to point out 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 an appearance. I’ll also 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 in a relationship. Think of your friends, of your parents; think of their friends and their 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 the nine levels of Dante’s Hell.
“The math behind my calculus pierces the veil of pretend, it tells us fifty percent of all relationships are doomed from the start, not doomed from the standpoint of ending in divorce or separation, but doomed in the sense that one or both people in the relationship ends up frustrated and feeling less than loved by their partner. A rational person would look at those odds and surmise, ‘what the hell, isn’t it better to just be alone?’ The problem isn’t that most of us aren’t rational 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 long term are running full-tilt hot. There are 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’ll concede your logic, but not your conclusion. You’re wrong to believe the fifty percent of people 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 passion to something else, or regrettably sometimes, to someone else. When they shift to something positive, I contend they’ve transcended; they’ve cleared away the clutter caused by physical intimacy to allow more evolved forms of love to nurture. Dante’s Hell is reserved for those who can’t, for whatever reason, evolve and instead stay locked in a physically limiting form of love.
“And yes, a Novelist married to a Poet must learn to manage the constant pressure to provide more than they can sustain. Their partner may say they’re selfish, but maybe what they really are is a guide to higher forms of love. The journey to transcendence can be arduous but eventually the Novelist figures out how to balance some minimal level of passion and 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 keep reaffirming their love for each other, so their 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 love 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 hope to live, it is a loss of life that’s profoundly tragic. They may have peace, and they may have some bizarre level of intimacy that in their filtered view transcends love, but I believe if they’re given the chance for a redo knowing how things end, they wouldn’t jump at the opportunity.
“That’s why I got out. I looked at my stale relationship with my Ex, at my inability to provide more than I thought he deserved, at how his constant pressure wore me down, how the one perfect life I thought I’d live was being extinguished, and I knew I had to get out. No matter how upsetting, or tragic, or mean-spirited it seemed, I had to escape. When your inner soul awakens to the fact it’s trapped inside a life imprisoned in unhappiness, something must be done. I concede to being mostly a Novelist, but my Ex was no Poet, and for me, this is the saddest of the three outcomes.
KYLE: “You 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, you put yourself on the path to try again. Hopefully, this time, 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 who opts to be alone? I’m not sure how much it matters if they ended up alone by chance or by choice, but their outcome should at least be addressed. In the coin flipping scenario, alone happens when the two coins get flipped but one or both end up in the mud and can’t be found.
“If we’re conducting an experiment involving one-hundred trials, this outcome results in replacing the missing coins to continue the experiment, so it doesn’t impact the resulting distribution. But is that fair, and does that mimic life? On the one hand we can say no one chooses to be alone, that they only end up that way due to unfortunate circumstances. Yet, there are those who consciously choose to be alone, but likely they’re in the noise and don’t alter the distributions, so have no impact on our discussion. The consequence of this assertion is it means no one starts out to be alone, they just wind up that way. Another way to phrase it is that the number of people who choose to be alone, or wind up alone as the result of events outside their control, is mathematically insignificant.
“What the distribution also doesn’t consider are the majority 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 most peace, love, and harmonious transcendence.
“Of course, there’ll be those who beat the odds and find a blissful pairing on the first, second, or third try, but also there will be an equal number who don’t find bliss 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 was right when she foretold fourteen-year-old me that I’d likely spend most my life alone, which is why she prepared me for this outcome.
“While focusing on the odds of finding a partner that provides a loving blissful life is informative, it doesn’t address the root cause of why we’re destined to be alone, even when we’re with someone. To really auger in on this, you must distinguish between people who are alone by choice and those who, through a series of unfortunate circumstances, ended up alone but want to find someone to be with. Then of course there is the significant number of people who are alone in a relationship, which for me, is the saddest form of loneliness.”
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 yes, 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. My Dad used to recite this quote that echoes through me at times like this; it was from this guy Henry David something or other, who said, ‘the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.’ I think this applies here because that’s what you’re describing, two people in a relationship who start out warm and fuzzy 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 sully realism, and maybe even 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 surrender while remaining hopeful that transcendent love awaits?”
KYLE: “We already addressed you in our distribution. Remember I said on average a person has to endure three bad relationships before they hit on the one they’re best suited for. 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 five 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 at the wheel to find Nadia, only I didn’t know it. So, I took a third, only to later realize my mistake. Luckily, fate felt kind and let me come back to person number two 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 and based on past performance it doesn’t amount to much. I know that passion and physical intimacy are important parts of how Poets like me define love but that 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’s ever even possible.”
