Over dinner recently, I got to talking with one of my dearest friends — let’s call him Paul — about relationships. The subject appears frequently in our conversations, not just because Paul and I have known each other for over a decade, but because the first time we met was also our first date. Needless to say, things didn’t work out. Such is the way these things go at 19 years old, when you don’t realize there’s still so much life ahead of you, yet so much you haven’t learned. But falling in love at such a formative age allowed us to develop a mutual transparency and radical candor that I’ve learned few people possess, especially with their exes. Such emotional familiarity ensures that even a quick dinner over sandwiches in the park can provide us with conversational carte blanche, a space to decompress and demystify without judgment. Even so, when Paul told me that he and his partner were separating, my jaw hit the ground, taking a stray piece of grilled chicken with it.
My surprise was warranted. After all, Paul and his partner were the ideal couple. They’re both creative-minded people with big hearts and a wealth of opinions. If their views diverged, they listened to each other instead of silently preparing a counterargument. And in life, they let each other take turns at the wheel, planning events and dates with a notable regard for the other person. To me, it seemed Paul found love at the center of a Venn diagram, with someone who didn’t mind when Paul wanted to spend time at the other end of his individual circle.
