When Arpine talks to me about love and dating, she talks about looking for her ‘other half,’ the one person in the world who completes you. At parties, there is always a toast to those who have their ‘other halves by their sides,’ and best wishes for those who have yet to meet him or her. My co-worker who is a translator referred to this person as ‘one’s beloved.’ In America, when we talk about love and dating, we are rarely so honest or graphic about what it is all about. In fact, hearing this reminds me of the Sex and the City episode where Carrie pretends to faint after Petrovsky buys her a Chanel dress and takes her to the opera. Like biting into something so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.
But why the cynicism, I have to ask myself. On one hand, my impression of young married couples here is that it mostly involves holding hands and looking sullen. And living with your parents, or his parents. There is also the problem of a ‘ruined woman.’ Men don’t want women who have taken a stroll around the block once or twice, so experimentation or divorce are definite nonos. It seems to me that all this leads to the incredible pressure to find the one, your other half, your beloved. You’ve got one shot, so you better do it right (or else you will be living with your mother for the rest of your life).
In my brief experience, this leads girls in their 20’s (you are only a woman after your wedding night) to be very, very picky about whom they choose to do the friendship with. It also leads to the curious and critical look in peoples’ eyes when I tell them I’m here alone, single and not actively looking. Ahhhhhh, to have traveled half way around the world, alone, self-demonstrating my independence, only to wind up in a place that views independence in girls my age as something akin to a lazy eye.
So, cultural differences aside, still- why the cynicism? I’ve seen lots of real love- my grandparents, my parents and even my friends (most often while wearing a heavy satin café/champagne/mocha colored dress). But for some reason, the other half/beloved talk makes me think you need to suspend reality in order to swallow it. What, exactly, are the details of ‘ever after’? He is still your beloved if you can’t stand the way he, oh I don’t know, leaves clothes all over the floor?
I can already hear the answers to these questions- that real love isn’t about perfect compatability, so on and so forth. But I think the minute you start making compromises to prove that he is the one, you are perched atop a slippery slope. If you forgive/accept/deal with this, why not that? And once you start making deals with true love, how do you know when you’ve talked yourself out of a bargain?
I may sound pessimistic, but I don’t think I am, really. Conversely, I think love, or maybe marriage, is all about the little compromises and deals, all done in service of the motto, ‘Better with than without.’ I don’t think it’s an easy feat, finding someone whom you are always better with than without. But it seems to have very little to do with this idea of divine intervention and ‘the one.’
But why the cynicism, I have to ask myself. On one hand, my impression of young married couples here is that it mostly involves holding hands and looking sullen. And living with your parents, or his parents. There is also the problem of a ‘ruined woman.’ Men don’t want women who have taken a stroll around the block once or twice, so experimentation or divorce are definite nonos. It seems to me that all this leads to the incredible pressure to find the one, your other half, your beloved. You’ve got one shot, so you better do it right (or else you will be living with your mother for the rest of your life).
In my brief experience, this leads girls in their 20’s (you are only a woman after your wedding night) to be very, very picky about whom they choose to do the friendship with. It also leads to the curious and critical look in peoples’ eyes when I tell them I’m here alone, single and not actively looking. Ahhhhhh, to have traveled half way around the world, alone, self-demonstrating my independence, only to wind up in a place that views independence in girls my age as something akin to a lazy eye.
So, cultural differences aside, still- why the cynicism? I’ve seen lots of real love- my grandparents, my parents and even my friends (most often while wearing a heavy satin café/champagne/mocha colored dress). But for some reason, the other half/beloved talk makes me think you need to suspend reality in order to swallow it. What, exactly, are the details of ‘ever after’? He is still your beloved if you can’t stand the way he, oh I don’t know, leaves clothes all over the floor?
I can already hear the answers to these questions- that real love isn’t about perfect compatability, so on and so forth. But I think the minute you start making compromises to prove that he is the one, you are perched atop a slippery slope. If you forgive/accept/deal with this, why not that? And once you start making deals with true love, how do you know when you’ve talked yourself out of a bargain?
I may sound pessimistic, but I don’t think I am, really. Conversely, I think love, or maybe marriage, is all about the little compromises and deals, all done in service of the motto, ‘Better with than without.’ I don’t think it’s an easy feat, finding someone whom you are always better with than without. But it seems to have very little to do with this idea of divine intervention and ‘the one.’
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