Why is it that so many love relationships start out with the hope and promise of “happily ever after,” and yet end in such soul–crushing defeat? Why are we so drawn to, and repelled by, the same person? Could it be that we fall in love with the image of what we want them to be? Is it that they fall short of our expectations, or might it be that our expectations built the image of them in the first place? The moment we discover them as a real person, and not the figure we created in our fantasy, it all comes crashing down. That is the moment where choice comes in.
Few of us today have the ability to stay the course and experience true intimacy. Instead, we trade that person in for a swipe on the most current dating app and hope the next person fits the mold. There is little incentive to commit. If things aren’t working, there’s always something else at our fingertips.
What sixty years of marriage taught me about honesty
Young adults today seem to thirst for immediate gratification and don’t want to do the work necessary when things get tough. My parents have been married for over sixty years and are not only still in love, but they are best friends. They have been through the horror and trauma of rocky times and have celebrated monumental successes, and at the end of the day, they kiss each other goodnight and choose one another the following morning — not because they have to, but because they want to. They are committed, not just when times are good, but through it all. Most remarkably, they have managed to keep the sexuality alive and still experience deep intimacy. “How, after sixty years?” I ask. It’s the question everyone in the family wants answered.
“Dishonesty is a buzzkill. It’s the fastest way to decrease the sexual tension in a relationship, Maya,” my mother once confided in me. When we are brutally honest, at all cost, we remain free in body and soul, and that freedom lets energy circulate. When we tell the truth, we don’t constrict and squash our own vitality.
The body always knows
Have you ever noticed how your whole body shuts down when you tell a lie? It is a betrayal of self, and nothing lowers self–esteem faster, no matter how many people you manage to fool. You know the truth, and that’s what counts.
Notice how you feel the moment you finally come clean about something you’ve been concealing. The whole world seems to open up. Colors appear brighter. Objects come into sharper focus. Regardless of the consequences, your body finally releases the tension it’s been holding to guard the secret. The lie kept you trapped and distant from your partner. Self–abandonment is a betrayal on the grandest scale — why would you cheat yourself of your own integrity? We teach others how to treat us, every moment of every day, simply by the way we treat ourselves. If we can’t offer ourselves this basic kindness, how can we expect anyone else to respect us? Once you find the courage to speak the truth, the people who support your integrity will remain in your life. Those who don’t will naturally fall away, and that’s a good thing. Why would you want someone in your life who doesn’t support your integrity?
Surrendering the illusion of control
When you finally get the fortitude to face your destiny head–on with truth, a sense of calm takes over, a recognition that you were never really in control in the first place. Fate rests in hands much greater than your own, and it’s time to surrender the reins that never belonged to you to begin with.
Closeness builds with your partner the moment honesty appears. In some cases, where a major truth was withheld and the betrayal too large, it can sever the relationship — and we have to accept the consequences of our actions and recognize that we cannot control anyone else’s response. The fear of letting go can sometimes prevent us from doing what we know we must do. Fear binds, while truth sets us free. If we’re fortunate enough to work through to the next phase, it can strengthen the bond, and a real, mature commitment can follow — possibly the best relationship yet, because it will be built on truth rather than projection and fantasy.
Real intimacy is being seen, not performed for
To be willing to get metaphorically naked in front of another person is real intimacy. To allow someone to see you as you truly are, and to be loved for that, not for what you’re pretending to be — that is real love. That is the naked truth.
This reflection continues themes Maya explores in-depth with couples navigating trust, honesty, and rebuilding real intimacy in therapy.