The Book Of Love

 

"Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within." -James Baldwin

Weddings don't really celebrate marriage, per say. I suspect that is by design because, if they did, nobody would want to go to them. Marriage, as a stand-alone, is not something to be celebrated--it is something to be endured, tolerated, survived, and re-created, over and over again. Weddings, I propose, celebrate the couple, and the accomplishment that they got this far without killing one another. 

Incidentally, I am getting married in a little over a year, and we intend to have a wedding. We have made it this far, after all, without killing one another.

Weddings should be spectacular! Marriages, on the other hand, can be pleasant, but they are primarily not spectacular, overall. Surprisingly, this should be one of the reasons they appeal to us, though we don't usually know that at the beginning of them. At the beginning, we think they will be something else entirely, something extraordinary. Sex will always be hot and we will both spontaneously want it at the same time, beauty will never fade and neither will our desire for each other. Look how far we are above the huddled masses who have yet to find their person! Young married couples have an intoxicating yet relatable arrogance about them that springs from the sincere belief that they have it all figured out. You can see it in the way they hold hands while walking on the sidewalk, seeing only each other, claiming space for themselves that belongs to everyone.

But then they start living their marriage. One to five years later is when they usually first come to see me in my office for help.

***

There is a theory suggesting that we have a natural tendency to "get used to" something over time as it goes from unfamiliar to familiar. As I understand it, our brains need to conserve energy and direct attention to things that could be a threat, so we pay less attention to things that feel safe. The familiar is seldom a threat, whereas the new and novel can be, at least until we assess the danger. This is one of the reasons that dating someone new is so exciting--it has elements of danger to it. Danger and threat turn up our attention in the moment, bringing us into the present. This is where the spark of life is, and it can be a heady feeling, which is why we love to be with our new lovers as much as possible. 

We love to be in love, don't we? The anticipation, the sexual tension, the excitement of getting to know someone new, the feeling that we are "special". Love makes the world go 'round, isn't that what they say? But the reality is that all of these feelings are in the service of an essential human bonding process, without which we would not continue to survive. The biology of this is functional and not very romantic, so we have assigned meaning to it elevating it to something profound and sacred, and we call it Love.

Big mistake. 

As intoxicating as it can be to have sex with someone new who we feel attracted to and connected with, it ain't love. As much as we are sure that we have found our soulmate because they seem interested in everything we say, it ain't love. As much as we share similar values, as much as we love the same foods, as much as we both want the same number of children, as much as it feels unlike any other feeling we have ever had, it ain't love. 

But it is something. 

It is the start of a process that builds trust, safety, and security. It is the start of what may end up being the best friendship you have ever had. It is the beginning of a foundation for raising children (or dogs, let's face it). It is the start of a journey of ins and outs that maybe, if you know what you are doing, lead to real love. Unfortunately, most couples have not yet arrived there on the day they celebrate their wedding. 

***

I always find it amusing when stand-up comedians get applause before they do their set--it's as if the audience is already celebrating a great show, even before it happens. Isn't this what we do at weddings? We talk about how great the couple is together, how it was "meant to be", how happy they will make each other, how their love for one another is immense--sometimes before they have had the chance to actually be a couple for very long. 

In the wonderful book, Wedding Toasts I'll Never Give, Ada Calhoun gives the reason why she does not offer toasts at weddings: "...because I'd probably end up saying that even good marriages sometimes involve flinging a remote control at the wall". How can you both celebrate a couple joining together and remind them that at times they won't be able to get away from each other fast enough? You don't, at least not at their wedding. But these are the things that can be most helpful to hear, rather than the cliched platitudes of loving one another forever or always having each others backs (you will, and you won't). 

You might think that I am not a romantic, but you would be wrong. To me, there is nothing more romantic than recognizing that as much as you love someone, that love will not be enough to keep you together. What is romantic to me is recognizing that there will be days when I won't want to be with my partner, and yet I will keep my promise to him and stay. What is romantic is knowing that there will be times when he will not like me, and yet he will keep his promise to me and stay. What is romantic is acknowledging that he is just as interesting to me when he is boring as when he is captivating. 

Romance does not negate duality, it acknowledges, accepts, and celebrates it. It is the decision to embrace all of it, even parts you don't like or agree with, because that is what it looks like to have someone's back. It is thinking they are sexy even though they just farted, it is seeing them as strong even though they have just broken down in tears, it is seeing them as your best friend even though they have just taken the last piece of bacon. 

Real love does not live only where it feels good, it lives in being interested in another's well-being, at all times; real love lives in putting your relationship first, at all times; real love lives in the feeling that even though you may fail with your partner a thousand times in one day, you wake up the next morning wanting to do better, at all times. Real love means that you both win, not one or the other. It means that when you are at your worst, the value you get from the relationship pushes you to be your best, or at the very least, vulnerable. Real love means that boredom with your partner is not a sign that you have lost interest, just a reminder that you may not be paying attention. Real love means that even though sex may change or diminish, affection does not have to. Real love means that, barring dangerous circumstances, you stay. Not because it feels good all the time, but because you promised to; and though it doesn't always feel good, these experiences can increase the closeness you feel to each other. 

***

I am fond of telling people that "on paper", my fiancée and I should not work. I like saying this because they know we are very different people and may wonder why we choose each other. But my love for him is not the result of all my relationship boxes being checked. Though some of the boxes are indeed checked, my love for him is primarily based upon the realization that he gives me purpose, he allows me to focus my significant skills of care-taking upon him--not because he can't take care of himself, but because I help him do it better sometimes, and I love to do this. He allows me to practice with him the kindness, patience, and acceptance I have struggled for years to practice with myself, with the result being that I continue to get better--with both of us. My caring for him heals my hurts; my protection of him brings me joy and pride, knowing that I am sparing him even a portion of the pain the world can inflict. 

I am committed to him not because we love the same things, but because he eats the food I make, even when it is unfamiliar to him, being respectful when he needs to decline something. His innocence reminds me of myself when I was younger, before I felt betrayed by the world and those who were supposed to love and protect me, and his silliness invites me to explore what innocence might look like now, as a 60 year-old. 

***

He has asked that we use the song The Book of Love, by Stephin Merritt, as our first dance at the wedding. I will be honest with you, the thought of slow dancing under the gaze of our guests is something that makes me want to run screaming from the room, not because I can't dance, but because I am so private these days. But when I heard this song, or more specifically Peter Gabriel's interpretation of it, I knew we had found the song that I would not only want to be our first dance, but also that I would want to be witnessed by cherished friends and family.  

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts, and figures
And instructions for dancing

But I
I love it when you read to me.
And you
You can read me anything.

It is not your usual love song, because it is about real love, not romantic love. It is a song that celebrates the in-betweens, the quiets, the stillnesses, the sheer dumbness of relationship. What elevates it above all the romantic songs I have ever heard is the way it takes these very ordinary moments, then describes how they transform into something extraordinary when experienced between people who love one another. Real love can be loud, but it is loveliest in the silent moments--your partner sleeping, missing them when they are away, the lull of remorse and repair after a fight, the sharing of sadness, the hushed tingle of a shared secret. It is less about finding someone you can talk with and more about finding someone you can be quiet with. Real love make silence transcendent. Those silences help a marriage thrive. 

The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it's just transcendental
Some of it's just really dumb

But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything

Our wedding next year will be a celebration of the ordinariness of marriage, it will be a toast to the quiet in-betweens. These are the spaces where we stepped into love, where we risked vulnerability, and where we learned that we could be still together. We have been together for nearly eight years, and though the fire is cooler, the coals keep us plenty warm. Our first dance together as a married couple will be an homage to what made us commit to one another--the gradual realization that we are better together, and our intention and commitment to continue in that direction. 

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know

But I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings

And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings

You ought to give me
Wedding rings

Fair warning for those who will be at our wedding: our first dance may be boring to watch. At my age, I would rather not put on a show. It will just be two men, softly holding one another, moving and swaying to a gentle rhythm. There will not be any surprise choreography, no backup dancers, no cartwheels, no remakes of Bollywood musical numbers. Our first dance will represent the best part of our relationship: the quiet interdependence, trust, respect, and mutual reliance we have between us. The subtle movements will be an expression of how these qualities are constantly shifting, never static, and that they require a bit of vigilance and care to keep from toppling over; that love, like most of life, is a never-ending dance, where one shifts around on their feet searching for balance and trusting they will find it. 

You may notice me leading him a bit more than he is leading me, but don't worry, he regularly leads me back to my best self. That is how we are writing our book of love. 

The New Age

What is a new age? 

I turned 60 on August 21, 2022. As I begin to write this I have now been in my sixties for one week. So far, so good, This time last year, right after turning 59, it was significantly less than so far, so good. I had just recovered from a mild case of COVID, my partner and I had just moved from a situation that was not sustainable. I had a new two-bedroom apartment to put together, and I had discovered that I had an inguinal hernia that fortunately was not painful, but was bothersome and unsightly nonetheless. 

Fast forward to now: the apartment is nicely set up and we love the space, the hernia has been repaired with surgery, and I have been able to avoid getting another case of COVID. 

And now I am in my sixties. 

What is a new age? The word "new" usually refers to anything that has, until recently, not been in our possession or has been unfamiliar to us. It can also apply to experiences and people. It may not actually be new, but it may be new to us. The word "age" can refer to how young or old something or someone is, but it can also apply to a period of time, as in "The Golden Age of Movies". 

The new age I speak of is this period of time (my sixties) that has, until recently, been unfamiliar to me. To be honest, it is still unfamiliar, in the same way a new home or frock could remain unfamiliar after only a week. But here is what I know about it so far:

• It is better than the first week of being 59. 
• It feels very much like the last week of being 59. 
• I prefer being at the beginning of a decade rather than at the end, because I get to make a "10 year plan". 
• It is more obvious now that I am 30 years older than my boyfriend, who is 30. 
• There are some changes to my body that I have absolutely no control over. 

***

What is a new age?

I was at a pool party in the summer with men "around my age", and I observed how some are faring better than others, whatever that means. In Los Angeles, aging well means only that you look good, that you are aging well on the outside (but not necessarily on the inside). Of course, it is reasonable to conclude that the outside reflects the inside, yes? At least when the outside has not been, uh, repaired cosmetically. 

Some of it is, of course, genetics. For instance, George Clooney and Brad Pitt will look good as they continue to age--becoming burnished versions of their younger selves. This is quite different from someone like Al Pacino, who is barely recognizable from his handsome younger self. 

For some of us, the environment and our behavior factor into how we age more than genetics. The world can take a toll on a person's face and body! But so can sugar, alcohol, drugs, lack of exercise, and bad relationships. Stress can take a toll. So can racism, homophobia, isolation, poverty, sun-tanning, and war. 

At this pool party, I observed how men of my age behaved together. I don't think any of us, myself included, "acted our age": we ate foods that we should not eat, drank more alcohol than we should drink, in some cases wore swimsuits we should not be wearing (or took them off completely). None of these behaviors were crimes, but it did start me wondering what behaviors I might want to review for myself, as a 60 year-old. For instance, is it, perhaps, time to get rid of some of my speedos? 

When we are young, we don't think about age because we usually don't have to. It is something that is so far in the future that we don't regularly make decisions based on how they will impact our golden years. Youth is one of those things that deceives us; and perhaps unintentionally sells us on the durability of smooth flesh and hard muscles. When we are young and strong, we can't imagine not being young and strong--that is how ignorant we are! But it would be helpful to imagine it, and even to care about it. Because there is a difference between not caring about when the Earth will be swallowed by the Sun (billions of years from now) and not caring about 40 years from now in our lives and bodies. For 20 year-olds, 40 years might as well be a billion. 

***

What is a new age?

Today, in my new age, I am definitely thinking about the next 40 years. I am also thinking about the next 5 years, and I am even thinking about tomorrow. That is the main difference--when I was young, I thought about the current moment more than the future--today it is reversed. But don't make the mistake of thinking that I don't enjoy today because my head is in tomorrow. My tomorrow is influenced by how I think about today--the two are connected now, not separate; my thinking of the future affects not only the choices I make today, but also how I experience those choices. I may choose to drink less so that I avoid a hangover, but that allows me to focus more on conversation with others who may be sharing the space around me. 

In the new age, my priorities are health, relationship, work, peace of mind, and community. I read once that, as we get older, priorities shift from status to connection to security. That makes sense. At 60. I don't have as much time to repair things in my life if I fuck up. Security provides a buffer against the inevitable threats that come with age, ensuring that I can respond with as many resources as possible. 

As I continue into this decade, I will no doubt experiment with different ways of expressing myself in the world (less Speedos?), hopefully settling somewhere that makes sense to both me and to others in my life. And while I navigate this road, I will also no doubt be thinking about turning 70. But I might be better off thinking less about how I want to be and more about just being. My hesitation with that is the concern that I am less likely to succeed at spontaneous expression now than I was as a younger man. 

Spontaneity, when young, is cool. It is sexy. It is hip. It inspires. In old age, spontaneity can look sloppy, inspiring ridicule. Why is that? Maybe older bodies don't move as smoothly as younger ones, but does that mean they should not move? 

Perhaps the path forward, for me, is to pay attention to the world and the people who surround me during the day, and let that stimulate my response. If I am paying attention, would my response not be both spontaneous and authentic? Authenticity does not age since it is of the moment, and I suspect that my attention to the moment, and what it offers, will shift the conversation from what is appropriate to what is authentic, and what is authentic is rarely ever inappropriate. 

I really don't want to be laughed at. 

***

What is a new age? 

There is no one template for me to follow regarding being 60. Everybody is doing it differently, it seems to me (not all of them are doing it "well"). Some are accepting the effects of age, as well as both the new limitations and opportunities, by making necessary adjustments, while others are denying the same with every dollar in their wallet. Shouldn't we feel good about reaching 60, or any age for that matter? I do, so far. But more and more it seems that the markers of age: wrinkles and wisdom, insight and patience, silence and contemplation, humor and compassion, are rarely seen, valued, or respected. Respect is at times a response to respectful behaviors--is it not? Are older folks behaving "respectfully" these days?

If you are wondering how I define respect, I lean towards a Kantian view of it: respect means not treating yourself or any other as a means, only as an end. Translation: you don't use yourself or others as a way to get something else. 

If one wonders why nobody values old folks, you might tell them it is because nobody values being old. There is little value today in being older because young people do not want what older folks have to offer, at least that is what I notice in Los Angeles. Wisdom? No thank you! Money is valued more. Patience? Fuck that! I want what I want and I want it now (it doesn't help that we can usually get it right away). Insight? Too painful, expensive, and time-consuming--why spend time in therapy when we can instead do ayahuasca and feel more enlightened the next morning?

There used to be purpose in growing older--we were the "elders", guiding the youth, caring for the young while the parents hunted or worked in the village. It is so different now, obviously, because we are no longer hunter-gatherers as we once were, at least most of us are not. We now hunt and gather money, and since youth is where the money is, that is valued more. Experienced folks are seen as "out-of-date", with nothing to offer. 

If only they knew what we had to offer. 

***

In my psychotherapy practice, clients come to me for what I have to offer them, and I am grateful to have chosen a career that grows in value with my age. And yet, I am still figuring out what value my age has for me, even though I suspect I may be going about it the wrong way. I would like my new age to be similar to David Byrne's life, who, at the age of 70, still rides his bicycle around Manhattan and performs music with younger musicians in a way that lifts the spirit. (I highly encourage you to watch "American Utopia" on Netflix if you have not already done so.) This demonstrates that as people get older, they can "be authentic" to their age and continue to be vital; inspire and be inspired by younger generations, being true to oneself AND being influenced by what is new. 

Many of the elders I admire are (or were, some are gone now) musicians or actors, mostly because they are the most visible: Annie Lennox, Bruce Springsteen, Bonnie Raitt, David Bowie, Barack and Michelle Obama, Lenny Kravitz, Pema Chodron, the 14th Dalai Lama, Jimmy Carter, and so on. I admire folks who have not just kept themselves healthy and fit as they age, but also those who remain engaged with the world in meaningful ways--you could say that they have an enduring curiosity about life. 

If there is one common denominator between all of these people I have named, it is that nobody is laughing at them. That is my gauge. 

I don't want anyone to ever look at me, as an older man in the world, and laugh at how I am acting or presenting myself. And while this may seem to be an objective gauge, measured by an outside observer, I would counter that the gauge is also internal--that I will know way before an outside observer will if I am being ridiculous. How will I know when I am acting/talking/dressing in a way that is laughable? Well, I will have to listen to my intuition, and pay attention when it signals that I am being inauthentic. 

There are a lot of people who talk to me about their desire to be "authentic". That can be a tricky ambition if they define authentic as a goal. In reality, it is a value, not a goal, meaning that it is a direction in which to head rather than a destination to get to. Let's break it down. Here is a list of descriptors--see if you can guess which ones are associated with authenticity and which are not:

• ridiculous
• silly
• mindful
• genuine
• deceptive
• attentive
• irrational
• judgmental
• compassionate
• curious

I won't bother to tell you which is which because it is better to sit with your own process of examination, but you may notice that the states you associate with authenticity all require a degree of mindfulness. In my view, mindfulness is not just being aware of what is happening inside of you, but also noticing what is happening outside of you--it is your inside world paying attention to the outside world and then noticing how the inside world feels about that--it is a response rather than a reaction, it is about the moment rather than the unknown future, it requires attention rather than distraction. Authenticity is less about who you are and more about who you are in the moment that you are in.

True authenticity is rarely, if ever, laughed at. And this is my goal. 

***

In many ways, my entire life has been both extraordinary and commonplace. When I think about it, getting married for the first time in my 60's could be extraordinary. Or commonplace. I am not sure which--what elements distinguish those categories? Maybe it depends not on how I look at it, but instead how others look at it. To me, the decision to get married now feels natural--there is nothing impulsive or spontaneous about it, but I can understand why others might look at me and think: Why now? Why him? Whereas I think, if you love someone that much: Why not?

Remember that poster you would see with poem about the lady who will wear purple everyday once she gets old? I am not even sure it was purple she wanted to wear, but that is how I remember it. The poster seemed to be saying that, ideally, you stop giving a fuck when you get old--you can do what you feel like doing and not care what others think (like wearing purple!). Sounds a little like becoming a child again, but without the supervision or carelessness. Think Ruth Gordon in Harold and Maude, and you will get the picture. She was free. She was even free to choose when she died. 

But remember that even with Maude's freedom, she choose to enter into a relationship with Harold, loving him dearly. Her relationship was not a cage, it was not a trap, it was an extension of the way she lived her life, an expression of her freedom to choose. True freedom does not mean that you go around doing whatever you want whenever you want, it means that you have the ability, resources, access, and willingness to make your own choices, whether it is to get an abortion, live alone in the woods, get married at 60, or wear purple when you are old, while also accepting responsibility for the effect and consequences of those choices on yourself and others. 

It means that you find authenticity in attention to the moment--noticing not only what is happening around you, but also what is happening inside you, and then responding to that--or not. True freedom cannot exist for me without interdependence on others, because true freedom requires outside support and mutual reliance. I am not sure what freedom will look like for me in my new age, but I can know a bit about what it will look like today, so maybe I will just start there. This is how I want to do my 60's.

This is my new age.