Love on record: how we build relationships
Love.
A simple four letter word charged with the thoughts of centuries. Indeed, the concept of “the one” first emerged in the workings of Greek mythology, in which the wrath of the gods resulted in the tearing of humans from their “soulmate”. From this time, societies have been shaped around this search — it is one’s ‘purpose’, one’s ‘destiny’ to uncover the identity of their other half. But is this all a construct? Or is love truly magical?
The biology of love
In her video essay concerning the biological and social aspects of love, Olivia Sun speaks with the anthropologist Dr Helen Fisher, who is well-known for her discussions of sex and relationships from a scientific standpoint. In this interview, Dr Fisher is quick to point out that studying ‘love’ does not take the enjoyment out of it — she still feels the racing of her heart, even though she investigates the biological drive for partnership. It is important to reflect on this, since it is precisely under the guise of ruining the emotionality of love that we refrain from these kinds of necessary conversations: what is love? Why do we need it? How much of it comes from within?
Fisher argues a controversial point. Humans, she says, are not ‘wired’ to be in long-term relationships. Indeed, there is a pre-disposition for restlessness when having been with one individual for a long time, caused by drops in dopamine levels in the brain upon seeing or thinking of that person.
Attachment Theory would take a different stance. The very core of this concept is the prolonged companionship that hormonal shifts in our brains cause us to feel for a certain person. To an extent, Fisher agrees. The loyalty of a partner in the wild (or, in our terms, at the time of early humans) is evolutionarily advantageous, enabling the dedicated care for and protection of offspring by both parents. This is a ‘cooperative’ structure. Fisher emphasises that, at the same time as possessing a wavering sex drive, individuals sustain an attachment to partners with whom they have mated, developing a society in which all members work towards the prosperity of the whole.
Another essential biological element of how we view love is the influence of ‘Script Theory’. Here, 'mental versions of scripts or narratives’, which we imagine in wakefulness or in dreams, help us to ‘understand the world around us and organise our own behaviour within it’. Three factors combine to create our viewpoint. Cultural scripts are shaped by ‘roles and customs’ within our societies. Interpersonal scripts are constituted of our individual biases, ideas, and preferences. Finally, intrapsychic scripts are our private wishes and how our subconscious has been shaped by our experiences. All of these influence our outlook in multiple areas of our lives, including how we accept and show love. Without realising this, it is common for individuals to ‘believe others see [the world] in the same way’ — a concept known as naive realism.
The construct of love
Ideas of what love is and what it symbolises have shifted over time. It is functional: in the Victorian period, marriage primarily served to further family ties and lines. Our concepts of love also vary depending on our cultural background. These elements emphasise the non-genetic basis of finding ‘love’ — the separation from the theories of Fisher and others.
Notably however, this interweaving of culture and biology is complex. For example, societal prohibition of non-heterosexual relationships shows how, even if people cannot openly express their connection with romantic love in public, the underlying feelings are still there, and will be the same no matter the era or culture in which a person finds themselves.
From our earliest exposure to romantic love, we are conditioned to desire a partner, leading to marriage and children at a steady (almost defined) pace. In practice, this timeline is not so simple. It not only pressurises an individual, but also the person with whom they form a partnership. In placing eternity in another’s hands, we lose an element of our own freedom and force them into the box we have pictured for our lives.
The societal construct of love, as the biology, emphasises the concept of the “special one”. Here, love becomes an exclusive space for two people. Despite this, the growing publication of books, social media posts, TV shows, based around the development and solidifying of this connection becomes almost invasive. This does not mean that sharing your relationship takes away from it, that talking to your friends about the ins-and-outs makes your relationship any less meaningful. Rather, we must consider this on a wider scale, where romantic relationships are put under strain because ‘love’ is the ultimate question and all that matters. This projection of love may force an element of performance.
Having and holding onto love is also connected with status. By just being with someone, in having a name to attach to ourselves in every instance, we gain invisible standing in society — an automatic acceptance by virtue of being wanted by another. Across all sexual boundaries, media constantly shows us the glory of finding “the one”. This pressurised focus forces us into perceived scarcity: that is, by seeing couples around us and interpreting them as on a higher rung (automatically assuming the relationship is positive), we see everyone as coupled up — we are a singularity, an unloveable.
Due to this, we may stay in relationships despite thoughts of separation. We fall in love with the idea of the partner when we have become disillusioned with the partner themselves. The ‘sunk cost fallacy’ describes the allergy one may feel towards leaving a relationship due to the time already invested. This means that, the longer we stay in a relationship, the harder it is to decide to leave (when disregarding external factors that may be at play). As Khadja Mbowe points out in their video essay, we may even ‘double down’ in the event of a relationship visibly failing to prove to observant family and friends that “we’re actually stronger than ever”. Our brains are wired for certainty, and a constancy such as a longer-term relationship gives us this. This may be why we begin to “fill in the gaps”, perceiving a person as what they could be and ignoring their faults. Who a person actually is can become lost when we are ‘loving the potential of [them]’.
Both political and psychological patriarchy play into the ways everyone expresses love. In a space abundant with power imbalances and devaluation of feminine traits, there is little hope of building a society in which male-female relationships can be healthy, be they sexual or not. We cannot expect men to be emotionally available when society as a whole reinforces messaging that tells them to reject femininity. Statistically, men participate in less group/social activities, and express themselves less openly in areas such as the arts; these are seen as “womanish”.
In this way, do we make men afraid of their feelings and open expressions of love? If this is true, how can we expect them to approach this conversation?
By politicising love, we politicise the basis of love and, therefore, what it means to be “in love”. Instead of remaining as an internal feeling, a private conception of our emotions and how they reflect on other people, our public persona becomes enrapt in our every thought, particularly in our current media landscape of high visibility. As Sun notes, the social function of love is malleable, morphed by how we wish to present ourselves. But if we feel pressured to show or feel love in a certain way, how can we be certain that our actions are the result of true emotion?
We must investigate the concept of love to be able to articulate what it means to us. In its great presence and influence, romantic media is assumed to have the “correct” perception, and it blinds us to our personal definitions. Achieving a universal understanding of love is likely impossible, but perhaps in trying to articulate what it means to us as individuals, we can begin to interrogate the structures that make us feel excluded, and build healthier relationships.
What is love?
This is a difficult question. Not only since it forces us to reckon with the rawness of our own emotions, but it also requires us to define an abstract notion.
A more approachable aspect of this question would be identifying one’s ‘love language’. Adapted from the ideas of Gary Chapman, ‘love languages’ can be split into five categories: words of affirmation, physical touch, gift giving, acts of service, and quality time. Importantly, people do not have to have the same manner of expressing love to get along. It is in understanding each other’s ‘language’ that romantic partners may prosper.
When asking people whether they believe in “love at first sight”, Mbowe uncovers surprisingly similar answers from multiple individuals. Many commented how it is rather “attraction at first sight”, while true love comes later. It is in comprehending the complexities of human beings, one interviewee notes, that we can appreciate the time needed to see if two people really click and can build a “true love”.
This raises another point: the intermingling of emotional and physical attraction. Sometimes one may find themselves drawn to one part and not the other, raising complications regarding true attraction or whether one is with a partner in good faith. Particularly in the early stages of dating or on dating apps, in presenting the “best version” of ourselves, we may hide elements of insecurity in our personalities, or conceal physical attributes through camera angles or clothing. As relationships go on and we get to know someone better, we develop more trust for the other person. This makes it easier to forgive the flaws of them, such as an angry outburst, or enable them to reveal parts of who they are that no one else gets to see. This closeness with a partner forces one to reckon with 100% of who they are, with the other becoming almost a shadow the more time you spend with them.
In ‘The Bluest Eye’, Toni Morrison writes ‘love is never any better than the lover...but the love of a free man is never safe...the loved one is shown neutralised, frozen in the glare of the lover's neutral eye’. In other words, the ways of a person directly influence how they love: a ‘violent’ person’s ‘love will be violent’, a free person’s love free and therefore unreserved and unrestricted by the fear of a broken heart. This is at the route of love — it is why we hold on. Love is the opposing agent of fear and, by extension, loneliness.
If we are able to love freely, then we are able to possess the knowledge that love is connected with fear. From here, we can be more relaxed in our pursuit of relationships, relieving the stress of love going wrong.
Normative concepts of love
The majority, if not all, of our contemporary concepts of love are based on cis- het- relationships. In this way, Andie Nordgren notes, the ‘validity [of queer relationships is] questioned as a result of…heterosexism’. Likewise, the validity of aromanticism and asexualism are continually brought into question by a normative society. Contemporary Western culture tells us that love is “necessary”, that romantic love is the love — the ultimate prize, the pinnacle of all achievements. Not only is this kind of love sensationalised, but it is also underlined by monogamy and the duration of a lifetime. If either of these criteria remain unfulfilled, in the case of having multiple partners or divorce, for example, then the quality of one’s romantic connections is challenged.
Notably, different cultures define love in variable ways. In Japan, kissing in enclosed public spaces (such as on transport) is considered rude, whereas in the UK people think nothing of it. So while two couples in these regions may be affectionate the same ways in private, is the UK couple less valid when no one has seen them kiss?
Love and Possession
When we become rapt in the concept of finding “the one”, loving someone mutually can become a form of possession. Jealousy drives many ills, and unfortunately it can even lead to severe reactions from an individual insecure in their partner’s dedication.
Constantly comparing our own devotion to that of our partner can lead to a form of antagonism, where we are the single active agent working for the good of the ultimate goal — a strong, everlasting partnership. This feeling is intensified when we consider how individuals project fantasies onto their partners/prospective partners, shaping them mentally into our perfect companion, filling in the gaps and ignoring their vices.
This idea also extends to people’s “type”. Individuals who do not fit into this are excluded, when in reality giving them a fair chance may have the best results. We possess our “type”like we possess other likes and dislikes — our prospective partners become another material possession to acquire, a bankable object. In this way, we begin to possess the idea of them, gifting them traits which we personally associate with partner perfection. Of course, we cannot stop these projections, however we can respect the truth of a person and not attempt to morph them into our image — afterall, we would not want this for our family, friends, or ourselves.
More conversations need to be had regarding the possession of another. In Christian wedding vows, husbands and wives are written to thenceforth be in service of each other ‘until death do [them] part’. While use of phrases such as ‘my girl’ or ‘my man’ may show affection, they also highlight the degree of ownership that one feels they have over a partner. They are exclusive, and if this exclusivity wavers there is falseness in their connection. No person is the possession of another, so it is worth questioning whether this underlying banner of possession pushes us to rebel for our freedom.
Being single
There are wildly different associations with being single. It can hold good or bad connotations, balancing independence with loneliness, in spite of the fact that either can also be felt when one is within a relationship. In an intriguing piece of research which assessed the happiness of (cis- het-) singles, women were shown to benefit from being alone and without children, while men were statistically worse off when unpartnered.
In ‘the Will to Change’, bell hooks discusses how women are told from their earliest years that they must have men around them to feel worthy and noticeable. But this is not the case, and indeed the latest iterations of feminism directly rebel the need for male validation. However, the expulsion of men from this conversation may be the very reason for our difficulties in communicating across gendered boundaries.
Being socialised as male in a culture of emotional suppression brings along with it a difficulty in contacting emotionally with males of any background. Indeed, Mbowe notes how it is not just the men we date, but our fathers, brothers, friends, ourselves that struggle to reconcile feelings with actions and open conversation. The work of emotion is ‘not a real thing’, flattened under the masculine physicality primarily associated with the word ‘labour’. But emotional labour is a thing so often under-appreciated due to its link with femininity.
‘A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle’ — as the girl-boss era of feminism tells us. This wave of feminism, however, can be quite masculine adversary. Mbowe notes that the “men are trash” attitude was perhaps necessary for its time of inception (coinciding with the #MeToo movement), but now we must consider how to progress, bringing men into the fold rather than pushing them away.
In our contemporary Western society, women do not rely on the financial earnings of men anymore. Traditional “roles” are shifting, facilitating more open relationships between all people. These relationships do not have to entail going on dates, either. In fact, it is the simple concept of building a community where all can contribute equally that Mbowe and many others believe to be the way forward: by investing time in understanding each other’s motivations and emotions, we can create a level and non-exclusionary playing field.
By dismantling the strict lines of gender and its stereotypes, we liberate everyone from the expectations they are told to behold as fact. We cannot be naive — there will always be those who feel this is not the way. But if in ourselves we can become free and open, and if we can accept others as they come, we can begin to build better relationships with all of those around us.
Romance and other kinds of love
Of course, it is not only romance that we may associate with love. Familial and platonic love are just two further types, whose importance should not be discounted.
One cannot rank types of love as if it were a hierarchy. Consider the aromantic community: their love is not lesser because it is not romantic, as one can still be made to feel all the facets of these relationships — comfort, acceptance — within a platonic connection.
Love is a thing of duality. Romantic love is both a space of companionship and sex — an environment of emotional and physical need. In a similar sense, the love of friends, of family, is built from emotional and physical connection, in comforting words or the hug from a sibling. By our very nature, humans benefit from different social connections for many aspects of our wellness and survival.
In their manifesto ‘Relationship Anarchy’, Andie Nordgren highlights how having ‘the capacity to love more than one person’ enables us to part from the long-held societal standard that “the one” is all and everything else falls away. Instead, we should ‘highly value [our own] autonomy’ — we are an agent beyond our partners, and therefore can continue to thrive in non-romantic relationships simultaneously to thriving in our romantic ones. The two are not mutually exclusive, and we do not have to give over everything to one person, leaving nothing for the rest.
Going forward
Nordgren suggests that a high degree of communication in relationships is what enables us to build the trust necessary for sustenance. By meeting others ‘in good faith’ we no longer need continual validation from our partners, easing the emotional burden on them and enabling us to separate our worth from their presence in our lives. By ‘start[ing] from your values and work[ing] backwards’, Mbowe adds, we can be committed and consistent. This allows us to grow into ourselves and enjoy love for what it is: a place of “space and stillness”.
In investigating our own values and separating them from what we are told they are or what they should be, we can build and develop relationships from a place of honesty, becoming confident in our own desires and more able to contemplate the desires of others.
Love. It is both biological and social, a feeling and the things we do. As a poet, I suppose I am susceptible to having a romanticised idea of it, but it is a question of such complexity that it becomes convoluted. Theories and thought-experiments aside, if we feel it and we give it, in places in which it is both accepted and desired, are we not on the way to truth?