Presence in relationships is such a curious thing. When we first meet someone we’re attracted to, we are drawn to them with such a magnetic force that it seems effortless to do what others (perhaps even past partners) have asked us to do: “Put the phone down.” “Talk to me.”The mystery of this other person enraptures us. And if the things we find— we like— our intrigue is high. We crave more and can’t get enough. Our thirst for them is unquenchable. In the polyamory community, the term used to describe thi...
Presence in relationships is such a curious thing. When we first meet someone we’re attracted to, we are drawn to them with such a magnetic force that it seems effortless to do what others (perhaps even past partners) have asked us to do: “Put the phone down.”
“Talk to me.”
The mystery of this other person enraptures us. And if the things we find— we like— our intrigue is high. We crave more and can’t get enough. Our thirst for them is unquenchable. In the polyamory community, the term used to describe this feeling is “NRE” or “new relationship energy.”
Love is a drug— well, actually, NRE is a drug. But more on that another time.
Love Stories
Our brains love stories and fantasy. At the beginning of a relationship, we know very little about a person— just enough to tell us we want to know more. The nuggets we unearth in our discovery get put on a storyboard or timeline in our minds. Imagine a long string with pictures clipped to it and many gaps in between.
But our brains don’t just love a story, it loves a story arc— a complete narrative. So what do we do? We unconsciously fill in the gaps with the best interpretation or version of how the person got from Point A to Point B to Point C and so on. Over time, as more snapshots get added to the mix, our fantasy narrative has to be revised. And revised. And revised some more.
“Why can’t you be more like the person I made up?”
NRE can last anywhere between 6-27 months, but in the end, even in the best-case scenarios, we’re all left with the same thing— a regular human with plenty of things we like about them and a few dents and scratches.
I think presence in our relationship - at least to some extent has to do with how we handle our partner’s dents and scratches— and how we deal with our own. How often do couples land in my office, and the underlying question is, “Why can’t you be more like the person I made up?” One of the realities of moving beyond NRE and into a more grounded and secure love is that we have to love our partner’s actual story.
Recently, I shared what I was contemplating with a friend, whom, upon hearing the analogy of dents and scratches, replied warmly, “Most people’s favorite things are worn.” She’s not wrong. If I asked you — and I am— to picture your most meaningful and precious possession, I’m guessing it’s not a trinket you bought last week. Endearment requires attachment. Deep, secure attachment almost always requires time.
But Where’s the Passion?
But what then of passion— the alchemy that draws us to one another and promises to awaken new possibilities? Is it just doomed to fade?
“Love promises relief from aloneness; it also heightens our dependence on one person.” - Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity, page 10
Well— yes and no. As Perel explains, the early eroticism and passion we feel at the beginning of a relationship give way to the security and comfort we seek. We want to hold on to the rush of being in love— so we do things to make it feel more secure. Love is scary and we try to tame our own fears by trading tiny bits of freedom for the sake of connection. From cell phone plans, to moving in together to the now infamous “couples facebook page”— we’re desperate to figure out how to make love stay. Too much security, however, dampens desire. Eroticism thrives on the unknown and enigmatic. But attachment and connection thrive on intimacy.
It’s no wonder people struggle with sex and claiming their hotness in some great relationships, while others fuck with vigor in those best described as “dumpster fires.”
So what are we to do?
First off, we might as well start by acknowledging that permanence is just as much of a fantasy as the story we initially made up about our partners way back when. We live in a society where the divorce rate is well over 50% for first-time marriages, and it only goes up from there. But really, divorce is just a formalized form of rejection and dissolution. Less official forms, like rebuffs and criticism, are also deeply painful. And then, of course, there’s death. Suffice it to say that the odds are never in our favor when it comes to permanence in relationships.
And for what it’s worth, I actually think that's a good thing. Or at least a useful one. Uncertainty and impermanence can help reorient ourselves to our partners in new ways. There is always more to know.
Try This at Home
This is one of my favorite exercises to try.
Imagine your partner standing in line at Starbucks (or the local coffee shop of your choice). Someone else —the same gender and sexual orientation as you— is standing behind them, observing your partner for the very first time.
What is the story that person is telling themselves about your partner?
Where do you imagine their gaze will land first? Where will it travel from there?
What will they notice when your partner gives their order to the barista?
What would happen if that was the story you told yourself about your partner?
What would happen if you flirted with that version of your partner later today?
What obstacles could you remove that would allow your partner to also occupy that headspace (e.g., throw in a load of laundry, feed the dog, pack the kids’ lunch for tomorrow)?
I hope you’re able to give this a try today!
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