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poetreeRomantic intimacy is a tricky subject. It's hard to even agree on what it means. Is it sexual? Emotional? Platonic? Can it be all three at once?
Nikki Giovanni might say so. I do not have permission to repost A Poem of Friendship, but it can be read at that link in its entirety, as will the other two poems discussed in this post.
A Poem of Friendship blends at least three different kinds of intimacy into one: platonic, emotional, and sexual, all combined in romantic intimacy. Interestingly, it defines intimacy by absence, what it is not. It is not "love we make," it is not "laughs we spend," it is not "what we do." Intimacy, according to A Poem of Friendship, is what is not. It is "the words we never have/to speak." To be intimate is to not need to make love, or to laugh. It is to not need to say words. To be truly intimate, you do not need to be lovers, you only need to be together.
I would tend to agree with Giovanni. Of course, as an asexual person I have a stake in declaring that romantic and sexual intimacy are not the same thing, and that it is possible to be emotionally and romantically intimate without adding sexual intimacy into the mix. Still, sexual intimacy need not be absent; I would simply argue that it is the most shallow of the layers of intimacy.
I think Judith Viorst would say the same. True love is another name, I think, for the deepest of emotional connections, for two people who no longer need to say or do anything to connect. Viorst's poem True Love is about two people whose time together has deepened their understanding past the point of discussion. The speaker dresses up purely for her husband and watches football for him; little things, simple things that perhaps mean nothing to us and everything to him. Her husband refrains from "I told you sos" and ignores unironed clothing, which means everything to the speaker.
Both speaker and lover even understand that sometimes being intimate, being in love, means you don't like your partner at all, and that too is part of intimacy. Just because you understand the deepest things about your partner does not necessarily mean that you will like what you understand. Viorst thinks that's okay. So do I.
There's another note at the end of True Love that struck me: "Despite cigarette cough, tooth decay, acid indigestion, dandruff, and other features of married life that tend to dampen the fires of passion..." Years and age may remove sexual passion from the relationship, assuming it was there in the first place. What does that do to intimacy? I think you can guess my answer: nothing.
Adrienne Rich might agree with me. Her poem Memorize This is similar to True Love in that it describes an intimate relationship of long standing, but it is different in that there is very little of the relationship actually described in the poem. Nor is it a passionless relationship, though it comes at this point in the post. Memorize This, I would argue, is about a relationship that has moved beyond the need for passion, though not the desire for it.
It is intimate as Giovanni's poem describes, in the sense that there is no longer any need to discuss things: "One oils the hinges one edges the knives/One loses an ear-ring the other finds it." The path is well-worn and easy, well-known to both parties. Both, like Viorst's couple, are familiar with the other's routines and desires: "One says I'd rather make love/Than go to the Greek Festival/The other, I agree."
And yet it isn't boring or stale. Neither party is tired of their relationship and their familiar lives. The final stanza is, I think, perfect, so I'll just post it by itself to close out this discussion of emotional intimacy in romantic relationships:
Sleeping with you after
weeks apart how normal
yet after midnight
to turn and slide my arm
along your thigh
drawn up in sleep
what delicate amaze
It's familiar and it's new, at the same time. It's unspoken, but not unknown. It's romantic intimacy.
Nikki Giovanni might say so. I do not have permission to repost A Poem of Friendship, but it can be read at that link in its entirety, as will the other two poems discussed in this post.
A Poem of Friendship blends at least three different kinds of intimacy into one: platonic, emotional, and sexual, all combined in romantic intimacy. Interestingly, it defines intimacy by absence, what it is not. It is not "love we make," it is not "laughs we spend," it is not "what we do." Intimacy, according to A Poem of Friendship, is what is not. It is "the words we never have/to speak." To be intimate is to not need to make love, or to laugh. It is to not need to say words. To be truly intimate, you do not need to be lovers, you only need to be together.
I would tend to agree with Giovanni. Of course, as an asexual person I have a stake in declaring that romantic and sexual intimacy are not the same thing, and that it is possible to be emotionally and romantically intimate without adding sexual intimacy into the mix. Still, sexual intimacy need not be absent; I would simply argue that it is the most shallow of the layers of intimacy.
I think Judith Viorst would say the same. True love is another name, I think, for the deepest of emotional connections, for two people who no longer need to say or do anything to connect. Viorst's poem True Love is about two people whose time together has deepened their understanding past the point of discussion. The speaker dresses up purely for her husband and watches football for him; little things, simple things that perhaps mean nothing to us and everything to him. Her husband refrains from "I told you sos" and ignores unironed clothing, which means everything to the speaker.
Both speaker and lover even understand that sometimes being intimate, being in love, means you don't like your partner at all, and that too is part of intimacy. Just because you understand the deepest things about your partner does not necessarily mean that you will like what you understand. Viorst thinks that's okay. So do I.
There's another note at the end of True Love that struck me: "Despite cigarette cough, tooth decay, acid indigestion, dandruff, and other features of married life that tend to dampen the fires of passion..." Years and age may remove sexual passion from the relationship, assuming it was there in the first place. What does that do to intimacy? I think you can guess my answer: nothing.
Adrienne Rich might agree with me. Her poem Memorize This is similar to True Love in that it describes an intimate relationship of long standing, but it is different in that there is very little of the relationship actually described in the poem. Nor is it a passionless relationship, though it comes at this point in the post. Memorize This, I would argue, is about a relationship that has moved beyond the need for passion, though not the desire for it.
It is intimate as Giovanni's poem describes, in the sense that there is no longer any need to discuss things: "One oils the hinges one edges the knives/One loses an ear-ring the other finds it." The path is well-worn and easy, well-known to both parties. Both, like Viorst's couple, are familiar with the other's routines and desires: "One says I'd rather make love/Than go to the Greek Festival/The other, I agree."
And yet it isn't boring or stale. Neither party is tired of their relationship and their familiar lives. The final stanza is, I think, perfect, so I'll just post it by itself to close out this discussion of emotional intimacy in romantic relationships:
Sleeping with you after
weeks apart how normal
yet after midnight
to turn and slide my arm
along your thigh
drawn up in sleep
what delicate amaze
It's familiar and it's new, at the same time. It's unspoken, but not unknown. It's romantic intimacy.
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Thoughts
Date: 2013-06-22 09:07 am (UTC)I agree. Those are all different aspects of intimacy, and may separate or stack as people wish.
>> Still, sexual intimacy need not be absent; I would simply argue that it is the most shallow of the layers of intimacy. <<
Sexual intimacy can be shallow, or it can be deep. That depends on how people use it. Some people feel their bodies to be intensely intimate; for them, sex is a deeply meaningful and intense connection. Others have a much more casual feeling and enjoy just the physical sensations; they may have "friends with benefits." I know at least one person who has found casual sex so unfulfilling as to be pointless. There different ways, and that's okay.
And the same is true for those other intimacies: a person may care intensely about one but not another, or may find one unappealing or even off-putting. That's okay too. Another haggis shortage averted!