Looking for love in all the wrong places (and for all the wrong reasons)

‘It is terrible to desire and not possess, and terrible to possess and not desire.’ (Yeats)

For a brief synopsis on what I’m about to go into more depth on here, I strongly suggest re-visiting my recent brief outline of the stereotypical Ukrainian relationship (scroll down past the ‘Malk’ video to the orange text). That will help set the scene for what I’m about to tell. Don’t worry, it’s short, and to the point(ish).

As a disclaimer, let me say this: this is all far from complete, but this is good as I can give right now. There are holes in it, my argument is inchoate in places, there could be more, but it will have to suffice as is.

First, the stories. Then, the analysis.

Starting with the foreign man element

When I talk about typical local relationships, I mean between two Ukrainians. But it’s worth a cursory look at some other fairly normal scenes I’ve witnessed in recent weeks.

At a fashionable place called BarBQ, which seems to cater to ex-pats, the place was filled with foreign men and local women, all seemingly on 1^st or 2^nd dates: the scene screamed of popular internet hookup joint. I was with Mark, and from the interaction patterns and the conversation going on around us, we deduced that this was a place for foreigners to impress the local women. What were two bums like us doing in a place like this? As nice as it is, it’s not at all expensive. And their burgers are the best in Kyiv, we had heard, and we both more or less agreed.

In Novus, a supermarket, I overheard a Turkish man on his phone, telling his friend something like this: ‘my friend, you must meet my new wife, she beautiful, very nice, cook good, she perfect…when you want to meet, soon?...all the women here beautiful, they easy to meet, my wife know lots of women for you to meet…you want to meet one? It is no problem…’

I shouldn’t really say ‘overheard’ – this guy’s voice was booming. He might as well have been on the loudspeaker.

And in the interests of transparency, that above half of the conversation is about 95% accurate. I actually wasted no time in pulling out my notebook and frantically scribbling it all down. I may have missed a word or two, but he definitely didn’t use articles and his message is just about spot-on.

I find this type of attitude/stereotype, that the women here are ‘easy’, very troubling, completely inaccurate and downright unfair. It saddens me to here things like this.

Three couples I observed in Tequila House:

1. A couple of Ukrainians next to me were engaged in feverish conversation. They didn’t appear to be together, which was confirmed when they split the bill and he didn’t help her with coat. I’d say from that evidence they were just friends.
2. A Turkish man smoking a cigar, with a beer, occasionally chatting on his phone, his female companion bored, staring blankly into the distance, with a mojito, no conversation whatsoever, little interaction, no smiles.
3. A Ukrainian couple behind me, older man, younger woman, their chat revolved around the menu, and whether she was hot or cold or hot or cold or hot or cold (cue Katy Perry) and wanted to move to another table.

Two people I met recently: he’s a well-built, muscleman, and former minor league baseball player in his early 40s, with his own profitable business back home. She’s a pretty, vivacious, intriguing personality in her early 20s who likes to party and have a wild time. He’s looking for love and stability, and I’m not sure what she’s looking for. He’s been married before to a Ukrainian woman – I don’t know what happened – and for him, this girl is the love of his life. Again, is she serious about him? Hard to tell. But she’s happy for him to buy her drinks and much else besides – not just on this occasion, but from what I’m told, on numerous other ones. They met online, through a dating site. His talk is way over-the-top, very cheesy (‘you know, I’ve been looking and looking, and I’ve finally found what I’m looking for…you know, we’re still getting to know each other, it’s early days yet, but I’m in love, and she’s the one that fate has given me…we’re just both really looking forward to getting to know each other and fall more in love day by day…’), and there are lots of ‘mans’ and ‘dudes’, as in ‘dude, she’s the best’ and ‘you know, man, this country’s full of beautiful women’.    

I don’t think it will last. But what do I know? She’s just applied for a fiancé visa.

Onto more detailed research

I’ve done extensive research on the matter, taken copious notes on various couples I’ve observed, but the following two examples neatly encapsulate the most common examples of the types of couple interactions typical in Kyiv.

Pivarium, 16 May 2011

A couple across from me, she a real cutie, a Kirsten Dunst look-a-like with auburn hair, he a decent-looking guy. They were in their early 20s, maybe even university students. He moved his chair to be next to her, even though it meant blocking the waitress’s way. Lots of talking, deep in conversation, minimal emotions on their faces, too loud to hear anything, impossible to eavesdrop (like I’d know what they’re saying anyway). A good bit of laughter as well, though no physical contact. The optimistic romantic in me – not that I’m much of one – wanted them to be a ‘couple’, even though if I could be bothered and were a lot bolder than I am now I would very much be interested in the Kirsten Dunst doppelganger. Though not by any means a glamorous stunner, she had a very kind, accessible, down-to-earth look to her and positively radiated an inner warmth, plus her hair was the right colour for my taste and she had dreamy blue eyes. I could have gazed at her all night.

Brief interlude: I don’t make it a habit to go out and scout couples like an investigative journalist. I go to cafés and bars for other reasons but always carry my notebook with me. On this particular early evening, I went to Pivarium to do some lesson-planning for a training and development course I’m doing. This is always a splendid idea in theory – to go to a bar and do some lesson planning whilst quaffing beer – but in practice it proves futile, especially when there are more interesting things going on around you.

When I was in Prague, April 2005, doing my Celta, I tried this tactic on a number of occasions. I’d go to a bar in the evening, sometimes solo, but often with fellow course participants Dennis, Mark and Gen, all with the aim of ‘planning lessons.’ Did we actually ever plan lessons? Did we, fuck.

That was one helluva fun month, but it almost killed me. Many people say that the 4-week Celta course is very challenging and strenuous, and I would agree. But not because of what’s expected of you on the course. For me, it was because I went out 5-6 nights a week, subsisted on 3-4 hours of sleep a night, and put my body to the ultimate extreme. If it hadn’t been for that, the whole thing would have been a piece of pish.

For a minute or two I thought they might have been on their 2^nd or 3^rd date. And as the evening wore on (my time ‘with them’ was around 75 minutes), I got more and more of the friend vibe. The big test would be when the bill came – unless I’m badly mistaken, no boyfriend allows his girlfriend to pay her share of the bill. And sure enough, they each put in their halves when it did come.

Now, I could have left things there and drawn my conclusions. But I wanted to be 100% sure here, and so I thought I would have to verify their status. But how to do this without making it look like I’m hitting on Kirsten Dunst? (don’t want to be mixing business/research with pleasure now, do I?) Introduce myself as a ‘journalist’ and attempt to explain what I’m doing?

Right or wrong, this is the approach I went for. The man got up to use the toilet, I approached the girl and said, ‘your boyfriend looks very familiar, does he study at [so-and-so language school]?’ In good English, her response: ‘I don’t know, maybe you can ask him, but he isn’t my boyfriend.’

Result.

Piano Café, 13 May 2011

Here we go with our gormless beast awaiting the beauty. I’m there transcribing Russian words into my notebook on a lovely Friday spring afternoon. He’s got a massive bouquet of flowers, seems awfully nervous, often checking his watch. He looks in his late 20s, is wiry with straggly hair, a large nose, far from resplendent in a shockingly shabby, cheap-looking grey suit. His phone suddenly rings, he barely hesitates before answering it, then grabs the flowers and rushes out. At this point I think my story is over (in fact, at this point, I hadn’t even been taking any notes, I only casually glanced over to witness this fidgeting man). The waitress had been over twice before asking if he wanted to order and he brushed her aside.

Minutes later, I’ve got a story. Confidently striding back to the table, just across from me, is a tall, statuesque semi-beauty, the image of sartorial elegance, clutching the bouquet. The man is trailing in her wake. They sit across from each other, and conveniently for me, where I can get a better view of them. They are very lovey-dovey, romantic, looking into each other’s eyes, holding hands. The conversation is stilted, but they seem okay, and there’s promise to this one, despite his overly uxorious mannerisms lending the relationship an air of imbalance. I can’t help but remarking to myself how awkward and mismatched a couple they seem. While she’s not exactly a supermodel - she is more what you’d call a handsome woman in a late 19^th century literary context – he looks like more like a down-on-his-luck secondhand bookshop owner. Or a shabby accountant, more likely.

Sadly, their promising start doesn’t last long and we’re back in stereotypical relationship land. Unfortunately for your author, my motivation – and I discussed this in my previous post, I do believe – with the language has been gradually waning over the past few months. I was easily within earshot here and easily heard what they were saying, which wasn’t much. Still, at some points it seemed strained, and there seemed to be some type of disagreement over something other than the menu, and I longed to know what they were talking about. However, as time wore on, and I more consciously eavesdropped (for I was also busy with my own work as well as reading), I was able to understand the gist of what they were saying. My listening skills are terrible, trust me on this one, which just goes to show the depth of this conversation. In fact, I can use this as the litmus test for future research: if I understand what they’re talking about, then it can’t possibly be a decent, in-depth conversation. Let me remind you yet again of the endemic feature of a lot of the relationships around here: an absence of truly inspiring conversation.

They fumbled over the menu for an eternity, almost in silence. After finally ordering drinks, he moves and sits next to her, no doubt hoping for a change in the dynamic. I was starting to wonder whether maybe this wasn’t a sort of blind date, or perhaps whether they had met online – I never did ask on this one, I’m afraid.

Now, she picks up the menu again, which the waitress has conveniently left for them to mull over. She half-heartedly, distractedly flips through it, going back and forth, while the man squirms in his seat. Now, I may lack subtlety at times, but I was definitely being very subtle now, determinedly scribbling away in my notebook with my Russian words, barely looking up. At no point did I make eye contact with either of them.

But now I was starting to get uncomfortable. I really felt for them, and considered what I could do to intervene. I thought of politely interrupting them and asking for help, which I needed, translating some of my words. This is a tactic I’ve employed on numerous occasions.

Brief interlude: whenever I’m working on my Russian, I will often ask a waitress, if things are quiet, for help translating a word. Thankfully I can say that 98% of the time, this is a genuine request for help. (Saying that, I’d rarely, if at all, ask a waiter for such help.) Not only is it helpful for me in what I need translated, but it’s a bit of speaking and listening practice. I often ask waitresses for recommendations or to describe dishes in restaurants simply to get a bit of listening practice in a real-life situation, where I know the context of what’s being said. And okay, I’ll be honest: I like doing it for a laugh, asking some of the most ridiculous questions (like whether the eggs are free range, the coffee is fair trade, or the meat comes from happy animals).

A couple of months ago, during Lent, I was with Masha when I ordered one of the meat-free dishes on the special Lent menu. Since I had an audience, I thought I would be a bit mischievous. And our waitress was also a bit of a bitch with some of the worst customer service skills. This was my third time in this place, and all three times this woman, Nastyk, had been my waitress. She needed to lighten up and smile.

When I asked for my dish, Nastyk warned me that it had no meat in it. I said fine. But this seemed unacceptable to her, and she insisted I order something else from the regular menu. She suggested things like chicken wings, pork cutlets and various beef dishes. I said no, I’d prefer a meat-free dish. She repeated with, ‘are you sure?’ I said yes.

My dish arrived, meat-free. I called Nastyk over and complained that there was no meat in it. I said, ‘Nastyk, where’s my meat, I want meat!’ Predictably, she went ballistic. Masha couldn’t keep a straight face. Every time she came by, I grumbled something about not having meat. Call me a sad individual, but I get a kick out of things like this.

In the end, I decided not to intervene to save this flailing couple. They were going to have to resolve this on their own.

Things never did get better. I kid you not, but the woman spent almost 30 minutes deliberating over the menu after ordering her drink; she was probably trying to memorise it. Or maybe it was just a stalling tactic to avoid conversation. The waitress came by every few minutes but she was never ready. The man attempted to mutter something every so often (you know things are bad when just to mutter something takes an attempt). Relief finally came when the drinks arrived and they both eagerly attacked them.

I’m not sure what happened: those early stages had promise, but then it all faltered.

But here’s the thing: something told me, intuition perhaps, that they had been together for at least a few weeks, maybe a couple of months. There were little clues here and there, and I could be wrong, but I’m fairly certain this wasn’t a 1^st or even 2^nd date. They had that ‘grown tired of each other’ look to each other.

I was wrapping up my transcriptions when I started feeling pretty gassy. That could have been a fun way to break the tense environment: let rip with a few bombs. It might have lightened the mood.

Eventually, the woman came to a decision. She closed the menu and waited for the waitress. When the waitress came over, the woman didn’t even order. Nor did the man.

Desperate times. I left. I spent just under an hour in their company and wanted to stay longer, but had to go. I really wanted to see how it would all end.

And now, my blabbering thoughts on what this all means, mainly through the expertise of others

I’ve been reading an awful lot of philosophy over the past couple of years, and though much of what I read doesn’t specifically relate to relationships, there have been nuggets I’ve gleaned here and there.

Schopenhauer has to be one of the best when it comes to the pursuit of lasting love, though considering his sometime borderline hostile attitude to the fairer sex, one could argue that he might not be the most authoritative figure. On meeting women, he said that ‘life is so short, questionable and evanescent that it is not worth the trouble of major effort.’ I certainly am not one for ‘major effort’.

So why should we listen to him in seeking an answer as to why so many people feel that being in a relationship is the be-all and end-all of everything? Because at the same time, he does declare that the ‘ultimate aim of all love-affairs is actually more important than all other aims in man’s life; and therefore it is quite worthy of the profound seriousness with which everyone pursues it.’

What is this aim?

Our unconscious selves dictate how we view relationships, and there’s nothing more overpowering to our unconscious selves than the will-to-life. Consciously, we usually know what we’re looking for, whether it’s security, sex, a companion, a bit of fun, not knowing otherwise, or to avoid the stigma of being single. But our unconscious self is stronger, and without quite knowing that this is the case, we are in actual fact looking for the partner that will create the ‘best’ offspring. It’s our simple, primordial, evolutionary desire that we are aiming to achieve: ‘what is decided by it is nothing less than the composition of the next generation…the existence and special constitution of the human race in times to come.’

I’ve met exactly one Ukrainian woman in my life who has declared that she’s not all that fussed with having children. One. I’ve spoken to plenty more, plenty more, and all of the rest find it incredulous that there are some people on this planet who don’t want kids. Hell, even a couple of my [English] colleagues find it preposterous that some people don’t want children. Though there are of course loads of people who remain steadfast in their determination to remain childless, not many of them live round here.

Factoring that into the equation, it makes perfect sense. It’s not just a cultural norm or expectation, but evolution dictates that this is what our unconscious self wants. If we ask ourselves the age-old question, what is the purpose of being?, for most it will be the reproduction of our species. That’s a conscious answer. When we seek a partner, said Schopenhauer, this unconscious will to reproduce is what ultimately goads us into action.

‘All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.’ (Blaise Pascal)

Let’s face it: solitude can be frightening.

But for many, most even, we crave company, friendships, relationships. Friendships and companionship of course provide us with many of our needs. Relationships provide us with so many more. Some can barely countenance the thought of perpetually being alone.

Thankfully, for me it’s not a problem. I take as one of my guiding maxims in life Cicero’s quip that ‘never is a man more active than when he does nothing, never is he less alone than when he is by himself.’ It’s almost a social taboo to profess virulent anti-socialness. ‘No, I don’t want to go out with you on Saturday because I would rather stay home alone.’ Try saying that to a friend or an acquaintance, and they’ll automatically start prescribing you anti-depressants or questioning your sanity.

In a relationship, this is magnified: ‘a desire for solitude may be interpreted by a needy partner as rejection or failure to provide the constant company craved, or both, and this partner will scheme, bully and intrude to prevent the other being alone.’ (Michael Foley, The Age of Absurdity)

Societal pressure and the desire to conform at all costs play their parts. To be in a relationship, to settle down, to have children, that’s what society has programmed us to believe is the ‘right’ thing to do. Most people settle. (never settle!) Most people are scared of taking a risk. Most people don’t know otherwise.

We’re scared of being contrarian. It’s human nature.

And then there are the accusations of selfishness that come with wanting to be single and childfree. To a certain extent, we are and have to be selfish creatures. The key is striking the right balance, and in a relationship, this means seeking compromise. But how many of us are truly happy with compromise? How many relationships, or those that need some form of compromise in order to function well, see an even 50/50 split between the pair when it comes to one of them sacrificing something? In which case are we happier: when we are in an unhappy relationship but at least have someone, or when we are alone yet facing the prospect of societal stigmas and having to fend off accusations of abnormality due to an overwhelming desire to remain single? This raises – or, goes back to – the question of happiness all over again. What really makes up happy?

‘Stupidity, selfishness and good health are the three prerequisites of happiness, though if stupidity is lacking the others are useless.’ (Flaubert)

Let’s not overlook the fact that many people just cannot be on their own: witness the person who goes from one relationship to another, sometimes with overlap in between. For those who aren’t terrified of solitude or being accused of selfishness, there’s love functioning as an instrumentality, and the emotional convenience that a relationship offers.

This is a key concept: emotional convenience. It’s the predominant characteristic of a bad relationship. There are other types of convenience, of course, but the emotional variety is probably the most deadly.

‘That convenience and passionate love should go hand in hand is the rarest stroke of good fortune.’ (Schopenhauer)

There’s another issue at stake here, and that’s the difference between infatuation and love.

‘Infatuation is a transcendent state, a loss of self, and transcendent states cannot last.’ (M Foley)

It is pretty much an accepted fact that the initial spark eventually wears off: very few relationships can keep the momentum that comes in the exciting early stages going for more than a year or so. Studies have conclusively proven that on average infatuation lasts between 12 and 18 months (D Marazitti, ‘Alteration of the platelet serotonin transporter in romantic love’, Psychological Medicine, 1999).

There’s not much doubting the fact that infatuation is effortless, while love is hard work. How many are willing to put in that effort, however? And should it require a great amount of effort?

My stance is unequivocal: a good relationship shouldn’t take much work. It should come naturally. An ex-girlfriend of mine had this spot on when she said that in any relationship, if you ever have to sit and examine the status of your relationship, or discuss what’s working and what isn’t, what the problems and issues are, and what label to apply to it, then it’s a sign that you’re not in a good relationship.

Exceptions abound: in some instances, a long-distance relationship, for example, you may have to work at it. They aren’t always easy.

Most of the couples I’ve seen here are well past the infatuation stage (another thought: in a good relationship and hopefully in marriage, that infatuation stage should be everlasting, infinite, permanent) and what strikes me as odd is that many of those are in the first couple of months or so. Infatuation is more ephemeral here.

Look at divorce rates in this day and age: well over 50% in most countries, including Ukraine and the US. But ask yourselves this: how many married couples are actually happy together?  

‘Marriage is a solemn and religious tie, and therefore the pleasure we extract from it should be a sober and serious delight, and mixed with a certain kind of gravity; it should be a sort of discreet and conscientious pleasure.’ (Montaigne)

Schopenhauer raised an interesting question when it came to looking at the person we’ve decided to settle down and create a family with. Once you’ve been together for long enough, and you’ve produced offspring, you are well into the post-infatuation stage. For the rare and lucky couple, that won’t prove to be a problem.

But for the majority, ask yourselves this: if I didn’t have a child with this person, would I actually want to be friends with them? Are they my friend at all? Do we converse? Are we compatible in a non-evolutionary, non-continuation of the species kind of way? If we didn’t have the shared bond of this creature we’ve created, would there be anything else left? Together we’ve made another human being, passed on the miracle of life, but is that it?

The final word from Schopenhauer on the matter:

‘Love casts itself on persons who, apart from the sexual relation, would be hateful, contemptible, and even abhorrent to the lover. But the will of the species is so much more powerful than that of the individual, that the lover shuts his eyes to all the qualities repugnant to him, overlooks everything, misjudges everything, and binds himself for ever to the object of his passion. He is thus completely infatuated by that delusion, which vanishes as soon as the will of the species is satisfied, and leaves behind a detested partner for life.’

Call me pessimistic, call me irrational, call me selfish, call me delusional, call me many things and definitely call me cynical. But don’t call me unhappy or lonely.

‘Love. Of course love. Flames for a year, ashes for thirty.’ (Giuseppe di Lampedusa, The Leopard)