A type of love we don’t talk about

A type of love we don’t talk about

The main way we normally think of “falling in love” is the Hollywood way, where your date expresses some weird quirk that endears you to them.

Maybe you just found it so cute the way he left his cowlick unbrushed, or you delight in the way that she puts on her oversized reading glasses.

Maybe they said something that revealed a capacity to give you the type of love that you never received from your parents. Finally, you’ve met someone who can answer your unmet needs. BAM! Love hit you like a car crash, and now you have a crush.

But I think there’s a second way to fall in love, where you mould each other to your mutual preferences over time via communication and care.

I was listening to a podcast where divorce lawyer James Sexton1 shared a story of how a woman realized her marriage was over when her husband stopped refilling her favourite granola without her asking. It’s so trivial but meant so much to her; love is wanting to do something that makes your partner happy, even though you don’t understand it yourself.

If I reflect on my past relationships, I notice that I’ve been praised by my exes for random (from my pov!) acts of chivalry like opening the car door, or putting down the toilet seat. I was taught that women generally prefer frequent small gestures instead of infrequent grand ones, but now I’ve connected the dots that these quirky desires are a foundation upon which you can fall in love at all.2

We don’t talk as much about the second way of love—or at least there are no catchy pop songs—probably because it seems less “organic” than the first way.

Which sounds more romantic, “I knew he was my soulmate when he stopped to glance at me before my train departed” or “We became soulmates after modelling our utility functions on a spreadsheet and then we climbed the gradient together until our happiness was maximized.”

— ❦ —

The second way of love feels more enduring, because people change over time, and you’ll inevitably get bored no matter how exciting your limerence was in the beginning.

Your true love seemed perfect when they first crashed into you, but now they laugh too loudly at parties and their constant foot-tapping while sitting is so annoying.

At least if you fell in love the second way, you’ve already practiced making I-statements and cultivating a desire to satisfy your partner’s wants even if you don’t find these things pleasurable yourself. Then any change is just a gradual evolution of your relationship, not a crisis where you start questioning if you really loved them.

As long as your partner is willing to listen and cares enough about your preferences to make them happen, then I think anyone can fall in love, assuming you share baseline compatibility and a desire to seek and receive feedback.

But both partners also need to trust that the love will fall into place over time, even if it isn’t present at first, rather than looking for someone who suits your weird quirks at the outset, and quickly rejecting anyone who doesn’t.3

— ❦ —

The first way to fall in love seems easier, of course! You click with someone right away and they are perfect.

The second way sounds so much more exhausting. It takes so much effort to always be communicating your preferences instead of feeling like your partner knows what you want before you’ve even mentioned it.

But this effort is an illusion—the first way also takes a lot of time—you’re just spending that time waiting for love to hit you randomly, instead of spending that time with a partner that you can grow closer to.

Wandering the relationships aisle of your bookstore, you’ll find plenty of marriage advice emphasizing the second way of love, but what advice can you give someone about the first way of love? You almost can’t do anything about it, because it’s basically pseudo-accidental.

But I think pursuing the second way of love is a more productive way to spend your time to find a partner you love; realistically, stumbling into finding someone who exactly fits all your preferences and vice-versa sounds improbable.

[Love] knocks on the door and you say, “Go away, I’m looking for [love],” and so it goes away.

— Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, (edits mine)

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Footnotes

  1. His name is appropriate for his profession 😜 ↩

  2. If I had to guess, my weird preferences would probably include eye contact and incisive questions. ↩

  3. Is there a third way to fall in love? Maybe it’s when you don’t have a choice in the matter, like loving your spouse in an arranged marriage, living with an annoying sibling, or raising an intransigent child. ↩