Madame Toastmaster, fellow Toastmasters, and welcome guests… 

The truth about any relationship is that it will end.  Whether it burns itself in its own fire, drags on for an eternity, or progresses at a leisurely pace, it will end.  That’s the truth.  And in that truth, you find another. 

If it ends badly – a romantic relationship that ends more in hate than in love or a friendship laid to waste by jealousy or betrayal – there will be friends that you will never be able to speak to again, places in which you will never feel comfortable again.  Whether the residual label you end up carrying is that of laughingstock, unfortunate fool, or monster makes no difference.   

If it ends well – or tragically – you’re no luckier.  You can still talk to old friends and visit the old places – though every conversation might seem one voice quieter, every place might feel one person emptier.  Life will continue, but in those moments it may seem like time is standing still.  Then again, you might not feel this at all.  You might already have it up to here with people assuming they know how you feel. 

Where am I going with this?   

Here: Close personal relationships inevitably politicize their environments.   Sometimes this is most apparent when a relationship ends, but it is also true of ongoing relationships and relationships that appear to be close and personal. 

For example, just about everyone here knows by now that I love my coffee.  And nothing is more convenient than the Starbucks a block away from where I work.  I’ve been going there fairly regularly for about one or two years.  Some people wonder why anyone would pay three dollars for some coffee.  An article I read a year ago concluded that all that customers are getting for the extra money is steamed milk.   

My own reason is that I love coffee, and it’s just better brew than anything I can concoct at home.  Second to this, though, is the treatment.  The person behind the counter knows my name, my drink, and which pastries are my favorites.   

The other regulars also recognize me and ask the usual questions: “How are you?”, “How’s work?”, etc.  There’s as much comfort in the recognition as there is in the lack of familiarity.  No one trying to impose their opinions on me, no one with unrealistic expectations of me, no one trying to finish my sentences for me…  Instead, just a slightly more involved nod to a passing acquaintance, observing an unspoken rule that recognition by no means connotes familiarity.   

A few months ago, one of the regulars broke the rule and asked me out.  On my morning drive, “Should I stop for coffee?” is no longer just a matter of whether or not I want coffee.  Now the decision is weighted by additional considerations:  “What if he tries again to ask me out?” and “What if other regulars know, and they think it justifies more than mere recognition?  What if they start trying to finish my sentences or assume they know my thoughts?”   

Am I being neurotic?  Irrelevant!   

Some problems have physical manifestations and can be seen by many people at once.  In this case the problem is all in my mind.  Other than his one question, outside of this, nothing has changed.  But does that make the problem any less real?  In matters such as this – when what was comfortable and enjoyable “me” time is compromised by an environment that is suddenly politically charged – I tend toward solipsistic utilitarianism.  In other words, self and enjoyment are the only existent things.   

This applies to other situations as well.  You’re getting dressed for an interview.  You’ve pressed your shirt.  You’ve got your new suit.  You’re just finishing your hair and giving yourself a final look in the mirror when your mother/husband/sister/roommate comes into the room.  “You’re wearing that?  Huh.”   Does this stop you from going to the interview?  No.  Does it stop you from shining? No.  Does it give you one more thing to worry about than you needed? Yes.  Is this a problem?  Absolutely. 

The problem is this: Apparent or actual close personal relationships politicize their environments.  There is no simple existence when it comes to these.  There is always baggage, a power struggle, a loaded question, a barbed word. 

What is the solution to this problem?   

Complete avoidance is unlikely to be feasible.  Ideally, we would all share an understanding that we should take things only at face value and not make assumptions about what is in another person’s heart or mind.  Charles Dickens wrote, “Every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other… every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts… is… a secret to the heart nearest it.” 

Beautiful! But also infeasible. 

No, the solution is separate but similar.  Find another with interests, ideals, and morals similar to your own - who frequents places separate from those that you frequent.  Locations in common are not commonality enough for two people in a relationship to withstand politics.  The area of overlap between each other’s lives should remain minimal – a mere sliver.  That sliver allows more than enough room to connect and share with each other. 

The rule of separate but similar applies to the size of the circles as well.  One person’s sliver might be another’s entire circle, resulting in an unbalanced relationship. 

copyright, Erin O'Neill 2006
duplication or copying prohibited without express permission

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