Good post, I think it comprehensively describes an important and real part of the human condition.
That said, I note that it doesn’t actually answer the titular question:
What’s the main value proposition of romantic relationships?
The question actually answered is “what is the main value proposition of intimate relationships?”, and as the post itself notes, “intimate” and “romantic” are two different things, with neither necessarily implying the other.
What’s the main value proposition of romantic relationships, then, in this post’s framework? Here’s my model.
First, David’s description rings true to me:
Reliably available and excited to spend time with, go on adventures/experiences with, report on adventures/experiences to, share and keep secrets, socially back-up and support, a more or less ever present cognitive circuit that’s looking out for the other...
But what sets it apart from a very close friendship (with benefits)?
I think it’s related to the “ever-present” part. Specifically: both parties start considering each other a central part of each other’s lives. They make major decisions about their lives together, they aim to be together as often as possible, they constantly keep each other in mind, they directly incorporate each other in their models of themselves and their relation to the world, et cetera. That is: it’s the “life partner” thing.
As part of this centrality, an idealized romantic relationship involves cranking up various positive relationship-variables to the maximum. That includes “the extent to which I can be vulnerable around this person”.
So that’s a core value proposition: finding the person you can be vulnerable around.
Note that this isn’t something that’s impossible as part of a sufficiently close friendship. (See: aroace people, who can have life partners too.) But the standard cultural template of even “your very best friend” doesn’t incorporate this by default, whereas the standard cultural template of “your romantic partner” does. And much like some friends can be life partners in practice, some romantic relationships in practice don’t include life partnership and/or the ability-to-be-vulnerable ramped up to 11.
In this framework, the standard cultural template of “a romantic partner” is just the sum of “life partnership”, “limerence and cute-couple stuff”, “sex”, and “the parent of your children”. In practice, though, each component can (and sometimes should) be decoupled from the others.
On the flip side… if asexuals and aromantics are each a thing, why aren’t a-intimates a thing? Where are the healthy relationships with people who just don’t particularly form intimate connections?
Psychopaths, no? Being pathologically unable to feel “The Thing which is supposed to give relationships most of their value” seems to check out, on my model of how (idealized) psychopath psychology is supposed to work.
(A “healthy” relationship like this is certainly possible, as well, inasmuch as “a psychopath” doesn’t equal “evil manipulator”.)
I think it’s not necessarily just a cultural template; there are some aspects of standard romantic feelings and relationships that can make a high level of emotional intimacy more likely. Many people are afraid to be emotionally intimate, lack the impetus to change the status quo, or don’t even realize it’s something they want. I think sex acts as an important catalyst for vulnerability in romantic relationships: people are driven to have it independently of interest in intimacy, but it can lead to greater intimacy regardless. You’re showing somebody your naked body, accepting that you might make weird noises or faces or do something you normally wouldn’t, potentially falling asleep next to them, etc.
As an illustrative example, the main character in a romance novel I read was nervous about having sex with her partner because she felt insecure about him seeing her body (fear of vulnerability), but was too horny to let that stop her. Assuming sex with your partner ends up feeling good and safe, you trust them more and are more willing to be emotionally vulnerable with them afterwards (of course, people do not in fact always feel comfortable and safe after sex; as a simple example, maybe someone’s partner’s first words to them afterwards are, “man, you’re really bad at that”).
Supposing the book character (and real people with a sufficiently similar psychological makeup) also feels afraid to be vulnerable with friends, she might not get the same “push” to do something that changes that—horniness is a powerful motivator, and there might not be an analogue for the sorts of activities that might lead her to feel more comfortable being vulnerable with her friends. She might grow closer to her friends over time, but people usually have to be friends for far longer to achieve a similar level of emotional intimacy to what they could get more quickly in a romantic relationship.
I also think people have a greater desire to learn more about their romantic partners, to “know and be known,” and so on, than they do towards their friends. This could in part be cultural, but not necessarily in the sense of conforming to a social script, and there could be an innate element as well. At a basic level, when trying to woo somebody, it makes sense to get to know things about them—inviting someone on a date that you expect them to especially enjoy is good for your romantic prospects. If you’re interested in making major commitments with the other person (e.g. starting a family), it’s natural to learn about their ambitions and approach to life; monogamy (which might be inherent to some degree, though there’s definitely a cultural aspect) also seems like a driving factor, as it’s only wise to ensure the quality/compatibility of your sole long-term partner.
People also tend to want to spend a lot of time around their partners, and living together often feels like a good idea, for reasons going beyond cultural expectations (e.g. you like to fall asleep cuddling, which natural leads to spending nights over). The more time you spend around someone the more emotionally intimate you’re likely to become; living with someone helps as well because you end up seeing their domestic foibles, interacting with them before they’ve had coffee, and so on. Again, this doesn’t work if you cannot, in fact, stand the way they live; disputes over things like mess levels and chores are a leading cause of conflict in romantic relationships. The claim is not that romantic relationships are necessarily more emotionally intimate than friendships (obviously untrue), but rather that they have more potential to be for most people, especially in a short time frame.
Interestingly, while people usually try to have good experiences as a way of bonding with their friends and partners, taking emotional intimacy as one of the core things that makes a relationship good suggests that bad experiences could work better: you see and interact with the other person when they’re stressed out, angry, humiliated, crying, vomiting from food poisoning, etc. Now, in some cases you might find each other intolerable under these circumstances, which I suppose means you’re not cut out for that level of intimacy with that person—which is fine, relationships based solely around casually hanging out or having pleasant experiences together aren’t necessarily bad.
However, it does seem like a good idea to at least be deliberate about what you want from your relationships with different people and know how close you want to be. I suppose people don’t tend to explicitly seek out bad experiences to have with other people, but I think it’s an element of why people like to go on adventures together: there are bound to be problems and things you didn’t anticipate (e.g. running late, bad weather, flat tire), and those can serve as bonding experiences.
Good post, I think it comprehensively describes an important and real part of the human condition.
That said, I note that it doesn’t actually answer the titular question:
The question actually answered is “what is the main value proposition of intimate relationships?”, and as the post itself notes, “intimate” and “romantic” are two different things, with neither necessarily implying the other.
What’s the main value proposition of romantic relationships, then, in this post’s framework? Here’s my model.
First, David’s description rings true to me:
But what sets it apart from a very close friendship (with benefits)?
I think it’s related to the “ever-present” part. Specifically: both parties start considering each other a central part of each other’s lives. They make major decisions about their lives together, they aim to be together as often as possible, they constantly keep each other in mind, they directly incorporate each other in their models of themselves and their relation to the world, et cetera. That is: it’s the “life partner” thing.
As part of this centrality, an idealized romantic relationship involves cranking up various positive relationship-variables to the maximum. That includes “the extent to which I can be vulnerable around this person”.
So that’s a core value proposition: finding the person you can be vulnerable around.
Note that this isn’t something that’s impossible as part of a sufficiently close friendship. (See: aroace people, who can have life partners too.) But the standard cultural template of even “your very best friend” doesn’t incorporate this by default, whereas the standard cultural template of “your romantic partner” does. And much like some friends can be life partners in practice, some romantic relationships in practice don’t include life partnership and/or the ability-to-be-vulnerable ramped up to 11.
In this framework, the standard cultural template of “a romantic partner” is just the sum of “life partnership”, “limerence and cute-couple stuff”, “sex”, and “the parent of your children”. In practice, though, each component can (and sometimes should) be decoupled from the others.
Psychopaths, no? Being pathologically unable to feel “The Thing which is supposed to give relationships most of their value” seems to check out, on my model of how (idealized) psychopath psychology is supposed to work.
(A “healthy” relationship like this is certainly possible, as well, inasmuch as “a psychopath” doesn’t equal “evil manipulator”.)
I think it’s not necessarily just a cultural template; there are some aspects of standard romantic feelings and relationships that can make a high level of emotional intimacy more likely. Many people are afraid to be emotionally intimate, lack the impetus to change the status quo, or don’t even realize it’s something they want. I think sex acts as an important catalyst for vulnerability in romantic relationships: people are driven to have it independently of interest in intimacy, but it can lead to greater intimacy regardless. You’re showing somebody your naked body, accepting that you might make weird noises or faces or do something you normally wouldn’t, potentially falling asleep next to them, etc.
As an illustrative example, the main character in a romance novel I read was nervous about having sex with her partner because she felt insecure about him seeing her body (fear of vulnerability), but was too horny to let that stop her. Assuming sex with your partner ends up feeling good and safe, you trust them more and are more willing to be emotionally vulnerable with them afterwards (of course, people do not in fact always feel comfortable and safe after sex; as a simple example, maybe someone’s partner’s first words to them afterwards are, “man, you’re really bad at that”).
Supposing the book character (and real people with a sufficiently similar psychological makeup) also feels afraid to be vulnerable with friends, she might not get the same “push” to do something that changes that—horniness is a powerful motivator, and there might not be an analogue for the sorts of activities that might lead her to feel more comfortable being vulnerable with her friends. She might grow closer to her friends over time, but people usually have to be friends for far longer to achieve a similar level of emotional intimacy to what they could get more quickly in a romantic relationship.
I also think people have a greater desire to learn more about their romantic partners, to “know and be known,” and so on, than they do towards their friends. This could in part be cultural, but not necessarily in the sense of conforming to a social script, and there could be an innate element as well. At a basic level, when trying to woo somebody, it makes sense to get to know things about them—inviting someone on a date that you expect them to especially enjoy is good for your romantic prospects. If you’re interested in making major commitments with the other person (e.g. starting a family), it’s natural to learn about their ambitions and approach to life; monogamy (which might be inherent to some degree, though there’s definitely a cultural aspect) also seems like a driving factor, as it’s only wise to ensure the quality/compatibility of your sole long-term partner.
People also tend to want to spend a lot of time around their partners, and living together often feels like a good idea, for reasons going beyond cultural expectations (e.g. you like to fall asleep cuddling, which natural leads to spending nights over). The more time you spend around someone the more emotionally intimate you’re likely to become; living with someone helps as well because you end up seeing their domestic foibles, interacting with them before they’ve had coffee, and so on. Again, this doesn’t work if you cannot, in fact, stand the way they live; disputes over things like mess levels and chores are a leading cause of conflict in romantic relationships. The claim is not that romantic relationships are necessarily more emotionally intimate than friendships (obviously untrue), but rather that they have more potential to be for most people, especially in a short time frame.
Interestingly, while people usually try to have good experiences as a way of bonding with their friends and partners, taking emotional intimacy as one of the core things that makes a relationship good suggests that bad experiences could work better: you see and interact with the other person when they’re stressed out, angry, humiliated, crying, vomiting from food poisoning, etc. Now, in some cases you might find each other intolerable under these circumstances, which I suppose means you’re not cut out for that level of intimacy with that person—which is fine, relationships based solely around casually hanging out or having pleasant experiences together aren’t necessarily bad.
However, it does seem like a good idea to at least be deliberate about what you want from your relationships with different people and know how close you want to be. I suppose people don’t tend to explicitly seek out bad experiences to have with other people, but I think it’s an element of why people like to go on adventures together: there are bound to be problems and things you didn’t anticipate (e.g. running late, bad weather, flat tire), and those can serve as bonding experiences.