The Levmore Theorem

Back to blogging with my three co-bloggers!  Each week, one of us chooses a topic and we all post a blog entry on that topic, usually on Thursdays.  (Usually we are on time.  Usually.  Ok, mostly.  Sometimes?  Don’t judge me.)

Here are the links to the other fabulous blogs:

Merryland Girl           

Froggie 

Moma Rock

This week, Moma Rock chose the topic, and she asked:  We often use the term “unconditional,” as in “my love for you is unconditional.”  On the flip side, is there anything in your life you’d consider to be conditional?  Here’s my take:

            I’d like to say I thought long and hard about my response, but I didn’t.  As soon as I read Moma Rock’s question, I knew my answer.  Other than the unconditional love I feel for just a handful of people on this planet – most of whom came out of my body or fall within my immediate family – everything else in my life is conditional.  I reconsidered my answer here and there over the past week, but it didn’t change.  And, really, there’s no logical reason for it to do so.

            As I sorted my thoughts, my mind kept going back to law school, to my first-year Torts class, specifically.  There, I learned the delicate “cost-benefit” analysis that dominates our lives, whether we realize it or not.  We might think about costs and benefits as to certain situations – spending money, for one – but this analysis underlies almost everything we do, including our interpersonal relationships.

            Think about it.  Do you intentionally spend time and resources with someone who makes you unhappy?  Someone who is toxic?  Someone who treats you poorly?  I sure hope not.  The answer should be “no,” because the cost of that relationship outweighs the benefit.  Now, if that person is your boss, the answer might change, because the benefit has changed.  Or consider extended family, where it might be easier to go along with the discomfort for a few hours than to resist and cause a familial rift.  But, there, once again, the benefit outweighs the cost.  That’s how it works.  It’s really that simple.

            You might be thinking about those people who stay in bad relationships much too long, the ones who seem to ignore the cost/benefit analysis (I’m not talking about abusive relationships).  But I’d argue that these people stay in those relationships because they reap some benefit from doing so.  For example, someone who enjoys acting like a victim (and we all know someone like this) will allow himself to be victimized.  There’s a psychological benefit to the victim (one I don’t understand but one I have seen enough to know it exists).  That benefit outweighs the downside of being mistreated.

            When I was young, I wasn’t able to successfully execute an effective cost/benefit analysis.  I simply did not see the world in that way, at least not consciously.  But thanks to age and Professor Saul Levmore, I’ve learned to perform this delicate balance.  (Note I said “perform” and not “perfect.”)  As such, I’ve learned to appreciate the good relationships in my life and to place great value upon them.  On the flip side, I enter into new friendships cautiously, the result of the pain of past “high cost” relationships coupled with knowing that my life is fairly full and I don’t necessarily “need” a million new friends  . . . thus rendering the “benefit” of a new friend less so.  Although I am chatty (nervous habit), I am actually an introvert at heart, and it isn’t easy for me to let someone in past a certain level.  And, so, I don’t – or not very often.  The cost of doing so – the stress of opening up, the risk of being hurt – outweighs the benefit, which is the potential for a new friendship that I don’t necessarily need.  So, I cherish those friends who know me very well and who allow me the luxury of not putting myself out there too often.

            I’ve also learned to let go when need be, or to at least put a great deal of distance between someone who seems to be more cost than benefit to me.  I don’t like drama, so I count that as a huge deficit.  The same is true for someone who gives me cause to distrust him.  It isn’t easy to walk away from a relationship but, sometimes, it is wholly necessary.  At the very least, sometimes we have to put a large space between one’s self and someone who just feels more like a liability than an asset.  (Am also learning to trust my gut, but that’s a post for another day.)

            Most recently, I’ve become ok with the fact that not everyone will like me, and that I don’t have to try too hard to sway someone’s opinion . . . because I just don’t care.  I have a specific person in mind as I write this paragraph, someone I’ve met through some other people, someone I have chatted with here and there, but whom has avoided all of my attempts to become more than friends of friends.  So, after a couple of attempts, I gave up.  The cost of trying to befriend this person simply outweighs any benefit I can perceive.  And that’s ok. 

            Unconditional love is hard.  It takes immense care and an incredibly strong connection to another human to love him or her, even if they hurt you – or hurt themselves.  I am capable of it, but my circle is limited, and rightly so.  To feel anything without condition takes great strength and commitment.  It comes at a great cost – but it often yields a great benefit.  There is a “logic” to people giving such care only sparingly.  All of which means that when I say I love you, my Five Loyal Readers (and I do), I mean it . . . for now.