a carrie bradshaw entry
Topic: Monogamy, Relationships, Jealousy, Possession
Reasoning: Tradition
Recently I've been thinking about how relationships function, especially in regards to monogamy. Practically, it makes sense that American society has adopted a single-partner system. Two people exist as a family unit, both can be relatively certain that they aren't exposed to disease, children grow up, ideally, supported by consistency, and the two adults are able to support one another and function collaboratively in a partnership.
Intimacy and Possession
Obviously, this idea is complicated, specifically when considering Michael's idea, that people confuse intimacy and possession frequently and problematically.
We are happy in relationships when we can say "she/he is mine" or "I am so glad I'm yours". First and foremost, we forfeit ownerships of ourselves in some respects, in favor of the ownership of someone else. Secondly, we begin to exist in opposition to others through our partnerships. This can be seen when couples have a general jealousy of other women/men coupled (haha) with a distrust of our partner, or a possessiveness in labels ("this is MY partner/girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife"), or just the average insulated existence of an American unit or partnership.
In some relationships, we are afraid to change or develop out of the person our partner fell in love with. Relationships fail time and time again because one person changes and another stays the same, or both change without regard for the other, or one wants something the other person no longer or never had to give (there's an old proverb that fits this bill, although it separates genders in a way that makes me uncomfortable: women marry men believing they will change into better people, men marry women believing they will always stay the same).
The way America sees coupling is distressing and depressing. We develop as people to attract a mate, then once we are mated we settle and become stagnant because we have what we want. Frequently people drown in one another, or begin existing as a couple solely.
Don't get me wrong. There are a lot of couples that don't do this. Successful couples have identities separate from their mates, and develop outside of the relationship as well as within it. These couples are rare though, perhaps not as rare as this entry would make them seem, but rare enough.
It's difficult not to be possessive, when we've been socialized to do just that. We are pushed to look for our "better halves", or to "feel completed" by relationships. As we get older, being single is seen as a failure of sorts, an outcome of an inherent social darwinism-- society has weeded you out as an unfit mate, instead of an independent and successful single. There must be something wrong with you.
Personal Note
The control partners have over one another in these unhealthy possessive pairings scares me. And I tend to only be with people who I know are enamored with me because I want to retain control over myself, my decisions, my appearance, and my identity. I know if I am with people who adore me that I can have an identity without compromise. I can be who I am without fear of rejection, I can have what I want and be who I want to be, and not have to worry they might leave me. I can have insecurities and failures and they will still be there. If I am incredibly kind and a good partner, I believe I can expect my other to be supportive of anything I want, from shaving my head, to moving to Washington D.C., to being a feminist. The truth of the matter is that I do not trust men as men, I trust them only when I know they have a unequivocal investment in me. I do not want to compromise who I am, but I do not want to be left for someone else because of what I can't be, or what I am.
I am happy that I can articulate these insecurities, it's important to understand how we function, what we're afraid of, and why. I think for a long time I existed in opposition to others, and I believed I would only be loved for what I could give. I was pretty shamed by any kind of social rejection which, especially in my formative years (as with most teenagers), happened quite frequently.
A friend told me years ago, "you are not a coin to put in everyone's pocket". I respect myself enough now, and realize my value, to understand that if someone leaves me for who I am or what I am not, that is their terrible loss, and most definitely not mine. It is difficult to live up to our values and realizations (especially when they involve holding yourself in consistent high regard, which I think we're all really bad at), but I do believe I deserve whole-hearted love and respect. And I also deserve my own identity, which regardless of relationship status I will consistently develop. In other words: I hope to not possess anyone, I hope for no one to possess me.
This requires an exorbitant amount of trust.
Monogamy's Shortcomings
And then, of course, there's the age old question: can anyone be happy with just one person? Admittedly, I think that people's opinions are subjective and based on their experiences on this one. However, idealistically, I believe that, yes, people can be happy with one person. One person changes so much over a lifetime that they're more like thirty people.
It distresses me when people say they fear getting bored with another, or when advertisements and media pressure us to "spice things up" in a relationship. I don't believe in boredom. I believe in problems, in a lack of communication, in weariness, in a lack of connection. I think these things can happen. But relationships are hard work. There are going to be weeks, days, years, when you feel like scaling walls to get away from this partner you've decided to be with.
We have become lazy. We believe that if we are good enough people, or we spend enough money, or if we just exist, we deserve easy happiness. That is complete bullshit.
People want McDonald's relationships. Drive in and get full. Drive in again and get full. Consume a person countless times with little effort and leave happy and satisfied.
Happiness as Method
I'm not concerned about finding someone to be happy with. There are, probably literally, hundreds of people I could be happy with if I was happy. Happiness is easy. I am much more concerned about finding someone to be occasionally miserable with. Someone who is willing to actually put in the effort of a five star restaurant but deal with the fact that sometimes there might be burned food, or dissatisfaction, or a sudden menu change, and be able to stay open and not go under. Partners need to be willing to roll up their sleeves and realize that at some point, relationships are a big pile of dirty dishes. And that is more than okay as long as you're together getting dirty (admittedly this analogy has gone so much further than anyone wanted it to).
We put so much pressure on ourselves and others to be happy. I don't think happiness is a goal or a way of being as much as a method. I can be sad, I can be upset, I can be miserable, but if I realize that it's all right to feel the way I feel, and sort it out, I am happy. We need to stop torturing ourselves for not always being right, or giving, or being happy and view happiness as a way to do things-- even feel miserable-- as opposed to a way of being.
Conclusion
I have absolutely no conclusion to give on any of this, but I'd be interested in any and all thoughts. Admittedly, this was a long one, but I've been thinking about this for awhile.
Reasoning: Tradition
Recently I've been thinking about how relationships function, especially in regards to monogamy. Practically, it makes sense that American society has adopted a single-partner system. Two people exist as a family unit, both can be relatively certain that they aren't exposed to disease, children grow up, ideally, supported by consistency, and the two adults are able to support one another and function collaboratively in a partnership.
Intimacy and Possession
Obviously, this idea is complicated, specifically when considering Michael's idea, that people confuse intimacy and possession frequently and problematically.
We are happy in relationships when we can say "she/he is mine" or "I am so glad I'm yours". First and foremost, we forfeit ownerships of ourselves in some respects, in favor of the ownership of someone else. Secondly, we begin to exist in opposition to others through our partnerships. This can be seen when couples have a general jealousy of other women/men coupled (haha) with a distrust of our partner, or a possessiveness in labels ("this is MY partner/girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife"), or just the average insulated existence of an American unit or partnership.
In some relationships, we are afraid to change or develop out of the person our partner fell in love with. Relationships fail time and time again because one person changes and another stays the same, or both change without regard for the other, or one wants something the other person no longer or never had to give (there's an old proverb that fits this bill, although it separates genders in a way that makes me uncomfortable: women marry men believing they will change into better people, men marry women believing they will always stay the same).
The way America sees coupling is distressing and depressing. We develop as people to attract a mate, then once we are mated we settle and become stagnant because we have what we want. Frequently people drown in one another, or begin existing as a couple solely.
Don't get me wrong. There are a lot of couples that don't do this. Successful couples have identities separate from their mates, and develop outside of the relationship as well as within it. These couples are rare though, perhaps not as rare as this entry would make them seem, but rare enough.
It's difficult not to be possessive, when we've been socialized to do just that. We are pushed to look for our "better halves", or to "feel completed" by relationships. As we get older, being single is seen as a failure of sorts, an outcome of an inherent social darwinism-- society has weeded you out as an unfit mate, instead of an independent and successful single. There must be something wrong with you.
Personal Note
The control partners have over one another in these unhealthy possessive pairings scares me. And I tend to only be with people who I know are enamored with me because I want to retain control over myself, my decisions, my appearance, and my identity. I know if I am with people who adore me that I can have an identity without compromise. I can be who I am without fear of rejection, I can have what I want and be who I want to be, and not have to worry they might leave me. I can have insecurities and failures and they will still be there. If I am incredibly kind and a good partner, I believe I can expect my other to be supportive of anything I want, from shaving my head, to moving to Washington D.C., to being a feminist. The truth of the matter is that I do not trust men as men, I trust them only when I know they have a unequivocal investment in me. I do not want to compromise who I am, but I do not want to be left for someone else because of what I can't be, or what I am.
I am happy that I can articulate these insecurities, it's important to understand how we function, what we're afraid of, and why. I think for a long time I existed in opposition to others, and I believed I would only be loved for what I could give. I was pretty shamed by any kind of social rejection which, especially in my formative years (as with most teenagers), happened quite frequently.
A friend told me years ago, "you are not a coin to put in everyone's pocket". I respect myself enough now, and realize my value, to understand that if someone leaves me for who I am or what I am not, that is their terrible loss, and most definitely not mine. It is difficult to live up to our values and realizations (especially when they involve holding yourself in consistent high regard, which I think we're all really bad at), but I do believe I deserve whole-hearted love and respect. And I also deserve my own identity, which regardless of relationship status I will consistently develop. In other words: I hope to not possess anyone, I hope for no one to possess me.
This requires an exorbitant amount of trust.
Monogamy's Shortcomings
And then, of course, there's the age old question: can anyone be happy with just one person? Admittedly, I think that people's opinions are subjective and based on their experiences on this one. However, idealistically, I believe that, yes, people can be happy with one person. One person changes so much over a lifetime that they're more like thirty people.
It distresses me when people say they fear getting bored with another, or when advertisements and media pressure us to "spice things up" in a relationship. I don't believe in boredom. I believe in problems, in a lack of communication, in weariness, in a lack of connection. I think these things can happen. But relationships are hard work. There are going to be weeks, days, years, when you feel like scaling walls to get away from this partner you've decided to be with.
We have become lazy. We believe that if we are good enough people, or we spend enough money, or if we just exist, we deserve easy happiness. That is complete bullshit.
People want McDonald's relationships. Drive in and get full. Drive in again and get full. Consume a person countless times with little effort and leave happy and satisfied.
Happiness as Method
I'm not concerned about finding someone to be happy with. There are, probably literally, hundreds of people I could be happy with if I was happy. Happiness is easy. I am much more concerned about finding someone to be occasionally miserable with. Someone who is willing to actually put in the effort of a five star restaurant but deal with the fact that sometimes there might be burned food, or dissatisfaction, or a sudden menu change, and be able to stay open and not go under. Partners need to be willing to roll up their sleeves and realize that at some point, relationships are a big pile of dirty dishes. And that is more than okay as long as you're together getting dirty (admittedly this analogy has gone so much further than anyone wanted it to).
We put so much pressure on ourselves and others to be happy. I don't think happiness is a goal or a way of being as much as a method. I can be sad, I can be upset, I can be miserable, but if I realize that it's all right to feel the way I feel, and sort it out, I am happy. We need to stop torturing ourselves for not always being right, or giving, or being happy and view happiness as a way to do things-- even feel miserable-- as opposed to a way of being.
Conclusion
I have absolutely no conclusion to give on any of this, but I'd be interested in any and all thoughts. Admittedly, this was a long one, but I've been thinking about this for awhile.