On Love and Love Affairs

Last night I decided to watch an old movie that has some meaning for me. Same Time Next Year came out in 1978 but I didn't see it  until six or seven years later when I was taking classes for my degree in Communications. One of our professors seemed to like Alan Alda; during his psychology classes we watched that movie and The Four Seasons. Granted, there is a lot to learn about the human psyche from both movies.

At the time, being married for 15+ years and having two small children, I was aghast that two people could have that kind of on-going relationship on the side and still maintain relatively good marriages. And not absolutely die of guilt; or at least feel so guilty that you confessed your sins to your spouse and . . . all hell would break loose. That was back in my innocent and more judgmental days (my prudish, puritanical days), before I'd experienced some of life's less-than-gentle touches. Back then I believed things were supposed to happen in certain ways, rules had to be followed, and any aberration, any exception, any crossing the lines was wrong wrong wrong! And if you behaved correctly, life would be smooth and you would be happy.  It was only when you crossed the line that life got difficult. Right . . . did I mention I was very naive back then?

The movie came up in conversation with a friend a couple years ago, and I'd been thinking it might be interesting to see it again so when I found it on NetFlix, I decided to add it to my queue. Last night I watched it.

Turns out I am now much more disposed to viewing George and Doris in an accepting and even positive light. I could see value in their relationship and perhaps better understand that you could love someone and still have a healthy, happy marriage to someone else.  Granted, I'm still not convinced affairs are good for anyone, but I know and accept that they happen. Obviously, according to the news, they happen far more often than we are willing to admit. And I've learned it's not my responsibility to judge the people who have them. Because they are humans, and we all have our moments of failure, our times when we are less than we know we should be. As a good friend of mine is fond of saying: Life is messy. And, I would add, it can be damned hard and painful and filled with suffering. So who am I to question where anyone finds joy or peace, a few moments of bliss? And perhaps, with life experience, I better understand that love should be treasured whenever and wherever it happens.

At least as depicted in this movie, perhaps that once-a-year touch of freedom was enough to keep them going through all the challenges of married life.  It gave them something to look forward to each year.  And maybe that's what kept it going so long: being able to look forward to spending a weekend with someone who truly listens to you, treasures you, wants you, someone who is willing to devote all their time and attention to you. What's not to love about that? In the day-to-day work of living life, running a household, careers, children, paying bills it is easy to lose sight of the tender, passionate feelings that first brought you together with your spouse. It's easy to get so busy with "stuff" that you forget to really pay attention to your life partner. I do wonder if George and Doris had ever married whether their love and passion would have been sustained. And if, instead of meeting each other, they'd taken an annual "passion weekend" with their spouses that would have made their marriages fulfilling enough.

But they were perhaps more sympathetic as a couple because it wasn't as if either of them was off having affairs with lots of other people; it was more than just sex, physical, another conquest or a fling. It was, strangely, a commitment to each other that they kept for more than 25 years. An odd love story, but a love story, all the same.

With all the infidelity of famous people in the news lately, it's easy to get on our high horses, point fingers, be judgmental and "holier than thou." I just can't go there. Perhaps my life experience has taught me that our lives don't always follow convention, that love is where you find it and, from my perspective, finding real love can be a very difficult task. I've learned you can love someone deeply and, unlike Gorge and Doris, never be able to physically consummate that love. But ultimately, it's the love that matters: wanting what's best for the other, and accepting that "best" may preclude you from ever really being part of their lives. And, at the same time, remembering to love and be kind to yourself. Perhaps that self love is what helps you see the path of love for others most clearly, helps you make the right choices for all.

So, do you suppose George and Doris are still meeting on their little Northern California rendezvous? Nah, after 60 years they would likely be in their 90s and their bones probably got too brittle for passionate embraces long ago.  But I suppose one could say they lived in the moment, the now, and for one weekend a year they were able to let go of everything else and just focus on each other.