We think, of course, that pessimism must be the enemy of love.
Yet what a properly thoughtful gift, well-aimed, generously held pessimism can be to any incoming partner.
What kindness it is to tell a partner, in effect or even directly, you will sometimes hate me, and I will sometimes hate you, and we will think we made the worst error of our lives, but still, I want, on balance, to be with you.
I don't expect to be happy here very often.
I know I will frequently cry and yearn, and you will, in privacy, do likewise.
How cheerful if we could, on our first dates, around about the main course, ask each other, what variety of madness do you bring with you?
What kind of calamity do you like to unleash?
It would be the ones who couldn't answer that we'd need to worry about, those cruel enough to still think of themselves as people who didn't bring trouble in their wake.
It's inculcated in us that optimism is the thing we need in love.
But what if darkness actually held us more securely?
