And here it is…
Court is now in session… (bang! goes the gavel).
This post is the culmination of a series of events, relationships, and conversations over the past few years. I’m not sure it has answers, but really is a series of Socratic, semi-rhetorical questions. How many chances do you give someone? At what point is forgiveness no longer a virtue but the “sin” of enabling? When do you carry the lessons learned from one relationship forward into the next one? The last question is the most important one to me, the most forward-looking and interesting, but before we just dive right in, let me add some context and concrete examples to hang this all on. Let me also say that I believe this applies to relationships broadly, not just man-woman or romantic entanglements, although I think those examples are the ones that stick with us.
So, let’s suppose you have a brother-in-law who continually asks to borrow money: after how many times of not getting paid back do you forfeit the right to complain about his perfidy? Now, that’s slightly off of the main track of my point, because your “right” to complain is really separate from the issue of loaning the money itself. But it does begin to tease at the issue of fault – at what point are you to “blame” for loaning him the money? I’ll say briefly that I’ve read too much Ayn Rand and other philosophies to absolve someone else of their own moral fault: no matter how we may think Charlie Brown is an idiot for trying to kick the football, Lucy still is responsible for her actions in yanking it away each time. I could (and probably will) spend a lot more time on the issue of personal, moral responsibility, but I won’t take on an unearned guilt. Someone who burns me, even if they’re a repeat customer, still has to accept their own blame for their actions… but the main point is not about blame – it’s about trying to distinguish between “lessons learned” and establishing principles in a new relationship and differentiating those “lessons learned” from “baggage”?
The blame issue deserves at least a cursory discussion. I’m not sure there’s anything productive from assigning blame, but I do believe when you trust someone and get burned, and then trust them again – and get burned – and again… you have to start looking internally at why you gave so many chances in order to do a little emotional inventory. Why do I keep taking my boyfriend back after he cheats on me, the woman asks? Is this a self-esteem issue? Clearly, the boyfriend in this hypo is an asshole and he bears his own moral blame for his actions, but you’ve got to ask yourself what’s going on that you kept trusting someone who repeatedly did this to you? This applies in friendships, too. I’ve seen people who have “friends” who continually treat them shabbily and the response is always some form of exculpation and excuse for the friend. They almost sound like the crappy friend’s defense attorney.
So, let me return to the issue of lines in the sand. If someone is unfaithful in a relationship, is that a one-time relationship-ender? For many/most people, yes. Let’s change the hypothetical a bit – what about someone simply breaking your trust? A friend, a lover, a child, a parent… how many more chances do they get before you “end” the relationship? I don’t pretend to have an answer or a number, nor do I think it really matters. It is very much an individual decision. Let’s call the number of chances you give X – doesn’t really matter what the number is.
The more important question, to me for purposes of this post, is what happens in the next relationship when a similar circumstance presents itself? If you’ve learned some lessons from the hurtful actions of the prior relationship, do you now say that the next person gets X-1 chances? Or simply one chance? Or do you not put yourself into the same position emotionally to get burned in the same way at all (zero chances)? If Charlie Brown meets a new gal named Lily and she asks if he wants to throw a football around, does he simply say “I’m not a football guy. I play hockey…” or “I don’t play sports at all. I prefer fetch with my rather precocious beagle.” So, do we say the good ol’ Chuck has now evolved and matured? Or do we say that Lily is the unfortunate victim of Charlie Brown’s baggage from Lucy?
I asked a good friend, a little older than I am, about this recently after picking him up at the airport and having dinner over some hot rolls dipped in oil at Bertucci’s. He had an interesting answer on the baggage/principles divide. He opted to go with the baby and bathwater and said “It’s both. It’s a line in the sand in the new relationship and the baggage of the old. It’s how we are. And if the new relationship is lasting, you’ll be able to work through it; if not, those new experiences will constitute new lessons learned/principles and baggage for what comes after that…”
I haven’t had time to fully digest this and I think I like the answer, although part of me thinks it may be a kind of philosophical copout or maybe a matter of linguistics.
Tinkering with my hypothetical – let’s suppose that you’re in a new relationship. And now your new brother-in-law wants to borrow some money. But now, you’re financially able to afford what he asks for (you’ve been away from the prior brother-in-law long enough to have some dough saved up!). In fact, the money isn’t even enough to make a difference to you. When you’re new belle asks “my brother is really desperate and could use the cash…” do you politely say “Sorry, babe. I understand, but as a matter of principle, I don’t loan money to in-laws. Or anyone. Bad policy.” Even if you agree with the reasons he/she is giving for the money? Does new brother-in-law pay the price for old brother-in-law? And at what point is it a “principle” and at what point are you just being a stubborn asshole?
These clear-cut “principles” start to look less and less clear in the muddy waters of our normal, daily life. And they start to look a little more like baggage when we are dogmatic about the application of the principle, without regard to the context of the new relationship. This applies to trusting a new mate, or not trusting a new mate, or even having a list of go/no-go criteria for a new mate where you will not consider being with anyone who isn’t (a), (b), (c), and (d) OR who has any of the negative characteristics or habits of your previous mate. This comes up in picking friends, boyfriends, or even a new dog. (“No more beagles; they spend way too much time laying on top of their doghouse talking to the yellow bird. Next time it’s a Labrador retriever.”) Or, much more commonly, “I won’t date anyone who does X, or has Y, or won’t do Z, because that was what my old mate did and that didn’t work out or that is an indicator of this character flaw, so no way on that.”
We do this an awful lot in our lives if we’re honest. We accumulate a whole lot of “principles” the older we get without having found the perfect match or even friend. No one gets a clean slate.
I’m not sure what the answer is, to be honest. I think repeating the mistake of trusting someone who has chosen “against” the relationship – be it a friend or lover – more than once or twice, no matter the context, is a recipe for disaster and an indicator of perhaps some time for internal soul-searching about what’s going on within, as much as figuring out what’s wrong with the other person and trying to recognize the tell-tale signs in order to avoid it the next go-round. After sorting that out, it’s time to examine the context of the new, analogous situation and ask whether the current relationship is worth preserving over a loan to your new brother-in-law or not. I can tell you that right now, for me, my next brother-in-law isn’t getting a dime. At least not yet. 😉