Look for Love

Couples therapists see the most intimate parts of relationships. We see intense arguments, deep pain of prolonged relational ambivalence, silly disagreements that have us asking, "Seriously?" We also see beautiful moments where one person expresses feelings that the other had no idea they were feeling. We see genuine care when two people look at each other, telling them how much they appreciate each other. We see laughter ignite, breaking the tension over an argument about dishes. We see the hardships and beauty that come with romantic partnerships.

Sometimes, when I hear people complaining about their significant other, I think to myself, "You don't know how good you have it." Other times, I think, "Life's too short to stay in the wrong relationship." Getting in touch with our intuition becomes difficult with all of the noise around us. We see the versions of relationships on social media portraying the perfect version of couples, horrific breakup stories that make our jaws drop, and dating stories that have us laughing at real-life rom-com moments. How do we know what love feels and looks like when we're unsure, in doubt, or haven't witnessed a quality long-term relationship?

If you're constantly looking for red flags, you'll find them.

If you're looking for reasons why our partner isn't right for us, you'll see them.

Here's a question for you: When's the last time you looked for love?

You don't have to look any further, I've got it for you. The following is Richard Feynman's letter to his late wife Arline:

October 17, 1946

D'Arline,

I adore you, sweetheart.

I know how much you like to hear that — but I don't only write it because you like it — I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.

It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you — almost two years but I know you'll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.

But now I know my darling wife that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing, and that I have done so much in the past. I want to tell you I love you. I want to love you. I always will love you.

I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead — but I still want to comfort and take care of you — and I want you to love me and care for me. I want to have problems to discuss with you — I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can do that. What should we do. We started to learn to make clothes together — or learn Chinese — or getting a movie projector. Can't I do something now? No. I am alone without you and you were the "idea-woman" and general instigator of all our wild adventures.

When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn't have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true — you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else — but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.

I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don't want to be in my way. I'll bet you are surprised that I don't even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can't help it, darling, nor can I — I don't understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don't want to remain alone — but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.

My darling wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Rich.

PS Please excuse my not mailing this — but I don't know your new address.

Consider this your call to start looking for love.

Love,

Brittani