Page 46 of Atlas
“But things didn’t turn out that way.”
“Nah, it’s not that I haven’t tried finding a handsome and loving husband; it’s just that men nowadays are afraid of commitments. My friend once convinced me to install a dating app, but the way I had to scroll through photos of men like they were objects for purchase made me sick, and the men who wrote me were not even trying to charm me. A few asked if I wanted dick pics, as if their penis was the most interesting part of them.”
“Maybe it was,” Atlas joked.
“Could be, but I’m not looking for a cold transaction of sex. I’m looking for a level three relationship.”
Atlas angled his head. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s just a definition of love. Level one is the selfish kind of love where both parties want to be loved and have all their needs met while giving as little as possible. At level two, there’s genuine love, but the focus is on only giving what you get, which means everything comes with an invisible price tag.”
“Give me an example.”
“Okay. So one cooks, but the other does the dishes. He agrees to the couch she wants to buy if she, in return, lets him have all his buddies over next Friday. They celebrate Christmas at his parents’ place, but in return, she’s picking where they go on vacation. That sort of thing.”
“Sounds fair enough.”
“Level two is a constant negotiating. Level three, however, is a flow of unconditional love between two mature people who put their partner first. What makes it work is that they have a symbiotic relationship; they both experience joy from meeting the other’s needs.”
“How many levels are there?”
“Four. But no one lives at level four. It’s a place we rise to on occasion. The description would be to love someone even when they hurt you.”
“Who would love someone who hurt them? That makes no sense.”
“Doesn’t it?” I watched him shift his balance. “Think about the unconditional love of a parent whose child is throwing a fit, hitting and screaming that they hate their mom or dad. Or what about the old senile parent who becomes mean-spirited? You’ll only know if you’re capable of unconditional love when the person you love is hurting you.”
“Huh.” Atlas crossed his arms and leaned back with a thoughtful expression.
“Anyway, back to dating apps,” I said. “It’s no wonder that our generation feels more lonely than ever. One-night-stands, where they give a stranger the most intimate gift they have to share, are the norm now. And so is the sadness of the rejection when nothing comes out of it. I see it with my friends.”
“You’ve never had a one-night-stand?”
“No. Did you?”
“A few.”
“And did they fulfill you?”
Atlas shrugged. “I wasn’t looking for marriage and kids, just a bit of sexual gratification.”
“Ah.” I leaned back and yawned when a sudden wave of fatigue hit me. “And just when I thought you were different, you said the tragic words that put you in the same category as all the other commitment-phobic men that I’ve met.” I yawned again.
“Am I boring you?” Atlas asked and finished his meal with a “Thank you. It was delicious.”
“You’re not boring. It’s just that I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“If you want to, you can go to bed early. I’ll do the dishes.”
“You sure?” My eyes were dry, and my mind foggy, like a wave of sleep-deprivation had caught up to me. “I’m afraid that if I go to bed now, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and freak myself out by overthinking everything.”
“Then how about we watch a movie together?”
“It would have to be something gory to keep me awake. Do you watch horror films?”
“Sometimes.”
“My only criterion is that it has to be paranormal. I don’t believe in ghosts or demons, but watching people kill other people, is too much like what I know happens in real life.”
