One evening, my wife and I were invited to a reception.
A man began trying to charm her even though it was fairly obvious that we had come together. Perhaps he thought I was her brother. Perhaps he simply chose not to see what bothered him.
My wife is also my best friend. When she pointed out what he was doing, she joked: “You see, some people know how to appreciate the product.”
I replied that he was mainly appreciating the packaging. He was seeing a smiling, elegant woman for a few minutes. I also knew the reality on the ground. If he wished, I could give him some information before he turned an impression into a certainty.
We laughed.
I was not saying that my wife was a bad person. If we are still together, it is because she has many qualities I love and because we have learned to grow together.
I was simply saying that seeing someone in their most favorable light is not yet knowing them.
At the beginning of a relationship, we sometimes look at the hull and imagine the whole ship. An appearance, a few confidences and the intensity of our desire become evidence of a perfection we have largely filled in ourselves.
Then life gives us the information that was missing.
The perfection of the beginning was not always a lie. It was often a partial presentation.
Each person first shows the best they know how to offer
A first meeting also resembles a job interview.
We choose our clothes, watch our tone, listen more and emphasize our gentleness, ambition or humor. We do not spontaneously present our disorder, impatience and resentments.
This selection is not automatically manipulation. Wanting to appeal to someone is natural. We show a real part of ourselves, the part we wish to bring forward.
The problem begins when the other person takes this part for the whole, or when we deliberately use this version to obtain the relationship before abandoning what it promised.
The attentive person at the beginning was not necessarily false. They had simply not yet shown us what would appear with tiredness, frustration and the security of having secured the relationship.
Knowing someone therefore requires more than checking whether they can be wonderful while courting us. We need to discover what they become when the desire to obtain gives way to the duty to maintain.
Emotion illuminates a moment
When someone appeals to us, emotion enlarges what feeds it.
We notice their smile, the similarities and the thoughtful gestures that confirm our hope. Less pleasant information seems small or temporary.
A strong emotion says: “I like this moment. This person awakens something in me.”
It does not yet say: “We will know how to manage money, respect our differences, remain loyal under pressure and repair our offenses.”
We sometimes ask a present feeling to certify future behaviors it has never observed.
The emotion is not false. It becomes misleading when we give it the status of complete evidence.
We lend our definitions to the person we desire
We readily assume that someone who resembles us in one respect will resemble us in others.
He likes children, so he will be an attentive parent. She works hard, so she will know how to build with us. He speaks about respect, so he will protect our boundaries.
Between what is observed and what is concluded, we add a great deal of ourselves.
We lend the other person our definitions of faithfulness, family, commitment or support. When their behavior reveals a different definition, we feel we have been deceived.
There may have been deception. There may also have been a question no one asked and an answer our imagination wrote on its own.
Our past relationships should improve our questions, not condemn the new person. What had we not wanted to see? What had we assumed without checking? What boundaries had we abandoned for fear of losing someone?
Experience becomes useful when it makes our enthusiasm more attentive.
A flaw is not always an incompatibility
Every person has behaviors we will dislike.
A flaw should not be judged solely by the fact that it displeases us. Let us look at its nature, its frequency, its consequences and the way the person responds when it is named.
Do they make an effort? Do they understand the price the other person pays? Is the behavior diminishing or becoming established? Can it be managed, compensated for or worked on?
A compatible person is not someone whose every characteristic pleases us. It is also someone with whom difficulties can be acknowledged without continually destroying the peace of the home.
But not all discoveries carry the same weight. An annoying habit is not violence. Disorder is not repeated contempt for boundaries.
Adult love does not say: “Everyone has flaws, so I must accept everything.”
It asks: “What does this behavior produce? Is there a willingness to correct it? What will my life become if it stays exactly the same?”
Saying that the other person has changed requires an inquiry
Several realities can lie behind this impression.
The person has genuinely evolved. They have stopped making the efforts of the beginning. We have discovered an old facet. Our own behavior has changed the way they experience the relationship.
These possibilities can coexist.
What behaviors have disappeared? Which are new? What had we already observed but minimized? What have we ourselves stopped doing?
This inquiry does not mechanically distribute blame. It keeps an important decision from resting on an overly simple story.
While we discover the other person, they also discover us: our relationship with money, our sensitivity to criticism, our family, our silences and our ability to acknowledge a mistake.
Instead of demanding the return of the ideal person, we can ask: “What have we each allowed to appear or disappear?”
Novelty must be replaced by real reasons
At the beginning, every message and every confidence gives the impression of entering a new world.
This energy naturally diminishes. We cannot keep meeting the person we live with for the first time forever.
What takes over is the qualities we maintain, our plans, sincere apologies, visible corrections and the ability to keep creating lively moments.
Being realistic does not kill the dream. It leaves enough room for reality that our love addresses a person rather than a creation of our imagination.
At first glance, we mainly choose a possibility. Over time, we meet a more complete person: their lasting qualities, their flaws, their efforts, their refusals and the way they repair.
That is when the choice gains depth.
Time does not serve only to make the relationship last. It serves to make our choice better informed.
What did I actually know at the beginning?
- What part of the other person had I mistaken for the whole?
- What answer did my imagination provide without a question?
- Does this flaw reveal a difference or an incompatibility?
- What current behavior confirms or corrects my first impression?
- Can I choose the whole person rather than the initial presentation?
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