Unlikely Story

by Ali Rosen

“The person who wrote in asked about loneliness in relationships—if we can have a partner and still feel lonely. And if we do feel lonely in our relationship, is it necessarily the wrong one to be in.

We don’t need to get everything from one person, but a true partnership shouldn’t ever feel lonely because you should naturally be yourself in it. Vulnerability is the antidote to loneliness. If you’re feeling disconnected from your partner, there’s some part of you that’s holding back. So my advice was to either try to open up to the partner or—if that feels impossible—to let the relationship go.”

Being able to build a life where I get to introvert alone is one of the greatest advantages to aging.

“The whole point is to wonder how it ends. That’s a crime. That should be officially entered as a criminal act. You can’t read the ending before you even start!”

“It’s comforting!” I explain with a shrug. “You can get into the story and the details without all the anxiety of not knowing what’s ahead.” “That’s life, Nora. No one gets to know what’s ahead.” He crouches down until he’s in front of me, and I’m once again rattled by his nearness. “That’s the fun of it.”

“I think it’s lucky to even have one friend who you feel actually knows you. Loneliness exists in so many relationships—more than you would imagine. I don’t think being in a relationship is a barometer for that. Some people are naturally lonelier than others, some people haven’t found someone they can be themselves with, and others just are going through a phase where they feel disconnected. But I’d lean into the relationships and friendships that do feel real—even if it isn’t necessarily the person you would’ve expected it to be, if it’s bringing you some peace, I wouldn’t question it.”

“No one knows everything about anyone,” I remark, trying to banish some of that sadness from his expression as much as I can. “We’re all the sum of all the many, many people who’ve loved and loathed us, and everything in between. That can’t possibly be quantified.”

“I know him,” I finally say. “I don’t know a lot of the surface things. I don’t know what color his eyes are or even what he looks like, that’s true. But I think you can fall in love with a person through words. I think in some ways, that’s more powerful than all the other external things.”

“Intimate stranger” really is a perfect way to describe it. The freedom to be intimate with someone you don’t know, who you’ve realized understands you better than some of your closest people, has been a gift. And I know that’s been the same for him, because he doesn’t hesitate to point it out. But romantic feelings? “I have no idea, honestly,” I admit. “We are close; there’s no doubt about that to me. But it feels so absurd to claim romantic feelings for a person you don’t know that I sort of hesitate to imagine he could feel the same way.”

We’re all made up of so many sides, tiny jewels sparkling at different angles.