Sunday, October 26, 2008

You always love the one you hurt

Looking back at the week of tumultuous e-mails that ended up with this one from D, I was struck by how much of the time I seemed to spend stepping on D's toes and then apologizing. Partly this is because I didn't know D well enough to know where all the landmines could be; partly, it is undoubtedly because she had at that point already fallen in love with me and was trying hard not to say anything ... so she was extra-sensitive from the get-go.

But what really struck me in retrospect was the effect that this dynamic had on me. I think it does not go too far to say that I found myself more tenderly inclined towards her the more often I had to apologize for having said something that hurt her feelings.

This is truly amazing, if not crazy.

I should add that I don't think this works all the time. I could imagine an obnoxious neighbor always yelling at me over imagined slights, and I don't think it would have the same effect. [In fact, my neighbors are just great, but you know what I mean.] If I hadn't already been very fond of D, I don't think I would have cared about her opinion nearly as much.

But why should it work at all? Thinking about it briefly, here is my first theory. When I apologize for hurting somebody else's feelings, I find -- if, as I say, she is somebody I already care about -- that part of the apology is to say, "Of course I could never have meant to hurt you because I am so fond of you ...." Then it is almost as if my heart hears what I am saying and decides to ratchet up her standings in my affections by just a bit -- in response to hearing what I said. Or here is a second theory. When I hurt somebody's feelings, I get distressed about it (in a small way, to be sure) because I don't want to hurt other people. Then the juxtaposition of the pain (of having caused offense) and pleasure (since this is someone of whom I am already fond) creates an amplification of whatever feeling was there before, and my heart (being pretty simple-minded) interprets that amplification as heightened affection.

Of course both theories are probably muddled, if not rubbish. But somehow my heart seems to work this way. It is very confusing. It may partly explain why I seem disproportionately likely to get attached to high-maintenance women (I mean emotionally high-maintenance) ... Wife herself being the prime example, of course, but D and some early girlfriends also come to mind.

I was a little reassured when I saw today's post from Ms. Inconspicuous, which contained the following lines (in a very different context): "So, you see, we were both out swinging. Which led to debate. Which led to a spat. Which led to apologies. Which led to a softening of conversation and some trust." But I still kind of wonder: Do other people find the same thing? Is this a well-known step in the dance of affection? Should I have recognized this interplay between hurt and tenderness long ago? Or am I just slightly deranged?

In any event, there you have it. Anybody who ever decides she wants me to fall for her now has a technique ready to hand. I figure it is safe to explain it here, because nobody in blogland will have the slightest interest. (On top of which, none of you knows where I live.) But for someone who did have an interest, it seems like all she would have to do is ...

... Pick a fight.

Sheesh.

.

4 comments:

  1. Oh... I have another theory.

    I may be completely off here, so correct me if I'm wrong. But I think about you a lot, as the token cuckold husband (I know there are others, but they seems more to be more willing cuckolds) in this sea of cheaters. And I think about what makes you stick with your wife despite the pain she causes you, partly as I wonder what my husband would do in your situation...

    Anyway, I suspect that a large part of your expression of love is care-giving. And that romantic love and protection/tenderness have become inextricably entwined for you. So when you extend protection and tenderness to D, you begin to feel romantic love.

    I could be way off. It's just a theory.

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  2. Really, Hosea? Because I always used to pick fights for the make-up sex. Of course, I'm a slow learner, and "make up sex" is clearly not in my husband's vocabulary. Consequently, I don't think my fight-picking engendered any positive feelings on either side. ;-)

    But I shall make a note that that it's the way to your heart...

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  3. I was going to say the same thing as Coquette - that you are a care-giver. I see it so often in many of your posts and your comments on my blog.

    And the way to your heart has been duly noted ;-)

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  4. Coquette and Kyra -- You're probably right; that would fit with other experiences I've had over the years. It's also consistent, in some ways, with my own sense that I'm a better father than a husband. Not that I'm planning to bring home trophies for either one; it's just that I find it way more difficult to be romantic and mysterious and exciting, than I do to be solicitous and stable and secure and consistent. (Note how those last three words are all more or less synonyms for "boring".)

    Veni -- I have heard this from so many people, but it never seemed to work for us. Not sure quite why. Maybe because I was always too boring to capitalize on the fight in just the right way (see above). Or maybe because Wife always prided herself on her ability to "keep grudges close to her heart and nurture them well" ... so that "making up" was never really accomplished all that thoroughly. Of course, ... if we had both known how to turn the fights into great sex, then maybe that could have helped with the grudges, too.

    Veni and Kyra -- I was going to say it's a good thing neither of you knows where I live; then I realized that being boring is probably the best possible defense on that front. :-) So I won't worry after all.

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