Before We Build a Life Together
I am writing this as an older man who wants to offer younger people something from his experience and feelings.
I understand that there is a time of searching. We want affection, attraction and the feeling that someone understands us. We may not yet know what we need or what we can give.
But I worry when this search becomes a search for the “best DNA” — the most beautiful body or the person who seems to possess every desirable quality. We can become attached to an imagined person before we have truly met the real one.
Then ordinary life reveals differences. “You do not understand this. You do not have that. You are not who I imagined.”
Disappointment can follow. Sometimes affection becomes resentment. I do not believe this explains every separation, but it is a possibility worth understanding before we make promises.
When I speak of finding our “other half,” I mean a relationship in which two people can build something together. Neither person arrives complete with every answer. Both need room to learn, speak honestly and be heard.
There is a Polish saying: “Hulaj duszo, piekła nie ma.” I use it here to describe living as though our actions have no consequences.
Yet another person has feelings, memories and a future, just as we do. What seems like a brief adventure to one person may mean something much deeper to the other.
People sometimes speak of a “body count.” What concerns me is what a number leaves out: Was there honesty? Was there care? Were promises made and broken? Even one act of betrayal can deeply wound trust. That does not mean a person is ruined forever. It means their pain deserves attention.
I do not watch pornography. For me, the beauty of a body cannot be separated from the person whose body it is. I find myself thinking about their feelings, their relationships and their future. This is a boundary within me, not a claim that I know every participant’s experience.
What I want to offer young people is preparation rather than shame.
Before building a life together, take time to discover how you treat each other when you are tired, disappointed or afraid. Can you disagree without humiliation? Can you admit a mistake? Can you tell the truth when it is difficult?
Accepting imperfection does not require accepting cruelty or abuse. But loving someone also means allowing them to be a real human being, rather than demanding that they remain the image we first admired.
Those of us who are older can help by speaking honestly about our own mistakes, rather than pretending we have lived without them.
My hope is simple: that young people can discover closeness with greater understanding, and avoid some of the pain that we can help them recognise.
