We seem normal only to those who don’t know us very well.
We are looking to recreate, within our adult relationships, the feelings we knew so well in childhood.
We marry the wrong people because we don’t associate being loved with feeling happy. No one can be in an optimal frame of mind to choose a partner when remaining single feels unbearable.
We have to be wholly at peace with the prospect of many years of solitude in order to be appropriately picky; otherwise, we risk loving no longer being single rather more than we love the partner who spared us that fate.
We married to make such sensations permanent but failed to see that there was no solid connection between these feelings and the institution of marriage.
Indeed, marriage tends decisively to move us onto another, very different and more administrative plane, which perhaps unfolds in a suburban house, with a long commute and maddening children who kill the passion from which they emerged. And that might have been the wrong ingredient to bottle.