Of Defining Love

Recently I entered into A Pleasant Arrangment with a woman of my acquaintance who seems to want exactly what I want right now:  an enjoyable, part-time, drama-free, no-stress Affair.  We negotiated the terms of this arrangement in a very businesslike manner, which I found extremely refreshing.  Neither of us is looking for capital-l Love in this situation, but we enjoy each other's company.  She is a professional classical pianist, which is particularly delightful to me.  Although we are considering this arrangement to be exclusive, for health safety purposes, we are not thinking of it as dating.   

The reactions of my friends (both online and off) to my Pleasant Arrangement with the pianist (hereafter referred to as Christine [not her real name, of course]) have been very interesting.  Opinions appear to fall into one of three basic categories:

1) Have fun -- God knows you need to loosen up.

2) You're in love but you don't know it, and you avoid that knowledge at your mortal peril.

3) Human relationships shouldn't be so businesslike and clinical -- you're missing out on the best part.

I've given thought to these viewpoints, and have come to the conclusion that most people enjoy being delusional.  I've made the mistake, in the past, of confusing that initial infatuation-rush with love.  In fact, most people refer to that phase of a relationship as "being in love."  They look forward to it. They cherish it.  My opinion is that anyone with a degree of emotional maturity knows that you really can't tell whether it's love until that rush burns off, and you see what you're left with.  The word "love" shouldn't be used until the novelty and the hormones have simmered down considerably.  And no thoughts of commitment or long-term prospects should be entertained until that phase is over.  Do I feel that novelty-infatuation for this woman?  Sure.  Does it mean anything?  I doubt it.  I'm doing my best to enjoy it, but intellectually I don't much care for it, for the same reason I wouldn't enjoy being drunk . . . I don't approve of experiences that short-circuit my intellectual and emotional processes.  I don't think of the infatuation-rush as being emotional . . . I think it's largely a chemical phenomenon.  But whatever else it is or isn't, it's not love, which is the word many people use to misidentify it.

Actually, that wasn't what I started out to say in this post, so I will move on to my actual point, which is that this association has been particularly interesting to me because I have never been more completely my authentic self with a woman than I am with Christine, for the simple reason that I have absolutely nothing to lose.  I'm not in love with her, but I feel a great deal of affection for her, as I always do for people whom I like . . . but on a very basic level, I don't really care what she thinks of me, which is hugely liberating.  The fact that I feel comfortable being completely honest with her has shocked me into realizing how much I usually compromise and hide with other women I've been with, for fear of being hurt or rejected.  It feels so wonderful to be authentic.  I'm hoping the experience will "stick" in some way, and that it will be a segue to my being able to be this authentic in the future with a woman whom I do love, and with whom there is a greater degree of risk.

It's been interesting, though, observing my authentic self . . . I am a very odd combination of natural consideration and appalling practicality.  I don't dislike it, but I am finding myself amusing.  What's even more amusing is that Christine genuinely seems to like me.  I wonder how many other women would have liked me more if I'd just been me.  Of course, I wasn't fully aware that I wasn't being me in the past, and there were exacerbating/mitigating circumstances (such as being very depressed for much of my life, which distorted my personality) so I'm not sure I even had the capacity to be authentic before now.  But now that I can, I think I should continue.