Why It Doesn't Really Matter Who You Love

May 21, 2013


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? 


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