"The more you know, the more you know you don't know."—Aristotle
"What are you looking for?"
It sounds like a simple question. If in a supermarket, I know what I'm looking for: "Excuse me, where can I find the dried porcini mushrooms?"
But with a potential life partner? I can't say.
I see so many different types of couples out there. Some wisely intone, "Opposites attract," but no two people are completely different or completely the same. Maybe they are both introverts, but one has a sense of humor and the other doesn't.
I used to be more smug about what I knew in my tender 20s, first paddling into the dating maelstrom. I "knew." I knew that I should be open, that connection is a choice, not something that happens. (Again, never a romantic.)
Then I learned from my experiences. I heard other people's stories. It became obvious that choice is not everything. It's a part of it, but not everything. As time passes further, my "knowledge" fades. Currently, I'm in the "Eibishter, You take care of this because I have no bloody idea" phase.
Ann Hood relates ("What's Love? Don't Ask the Answer Couple") how her own "knowledge" morphed over the years. With every failed serious relationship, she made a conscious decision where she went wrong, and selected a new partner accordingly.
First was swooning romance, which eventually went kablooey. She decided her mistake was focusing on love and not comfortable companionship. But the next one ended too (after husband and wife were answering letters in Glamour with relationship advice). No, no, she needed an opposite to balance her out, someone "coolly rational."
It was after years with her second husband that she realized her error. It's not about loving. It's thinking that you know.
What I know now is that I don’t know anything much. I don’t know why men won’t ask for directions. I don’t know how we find the right person to love. I don’t know if he should be just like me or have a different kind of job or cook me dinners or send me roses or enjoy playing Boggle and doing jigsaw puzzles. I just don’t know.
There is freedom, and even joy, in not having the answers. I wonder, if I could write to an Answer Couple today, if I would ask them what love is. I wonder what they would say, but I know they wouldn’t really know. No one does.
It's a delicate balance. There are things in life we have to know in order to function and be productive. But there are some things that we have to surrender to a Higher Power. Do I know what I'm looking for? Maybe, vaguely. But I'm hesitant to say, because God has an ironic sense of humor and I'd rather not look stupid.