Why It Doesn't Really Matter Who You Love

May 21, 2013

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Thought Catalog

Romantic relationships are strange. You become privy to another person’s peculiar workings, the singular and inevitably bizarre ways they make sense of life — their body, family, time, health, sleep, money, the culture at large. Few things are as disconcerting as finding yourself intimate with someone so utterly, thoroughly different. In a flash, you move from impossible closeness to infinite distance.  Why is she breathing so weirdly? Who is this freak in my bed?

The first time one of you gets sick is a great revelation: the role of self-pity, the knowledge of medicine, the entire architecture of the body in the world comes to the fore, poignantly. For instance, as a jewish (little ‘j,’ if you know what I mean) hypochondriac, I’m always surprised that she doesn’t know the difference between viruses and bacteria. Is she some kind of moron? Meanwhile, she’s thinking: Who’s this neurotic nutjob? 

And…

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