I'm happy if you're happy

10/02/97
By Linda Weltner, Globe Staff

Let me tell you a funny story about a king and his queen. 

One evening, when the king was feeling deeply romantic, he
asked his wife, ''My dearest darling, who do you love most
in all the world?'' He was sure, of course, that his name
would come to her lips. The queen hesitated briefly, aware
of all the power her husband possessed, but in the end she
decided to tell the truth. 

''You xrknow, my dear,'' she replied, ''I love myself
most.''

After a long moment's thought, the king replied, ''Well,
now that I think of it, I also love myself most.''

I laughed out loud when I first heard that tale, probably
because it breaks one of our last cultural taboos. This
royal couple gives voice to the one thing lovers dare not
say to each other, and yet unarguably, they speak the
truth. No matter how passionately we profess our love for
others, we invariably put ourselves and our own feelings
first. 

After all, we want to remain whole and happy in a
relationship and not be crushed by damaging sacrifices. We
believe that love should enhance the well-being of both
partners and so we keep a running tally to make sure we get
our share. We look out for our own interests, (If we don't,
who will?), yet when those who have sworn undying love for
us do the exact same thing, we're disappointed. The idea
that love means that two individuals will place the good of
the other above their own is an illusion we cherish, even
as the divorce rates soar. 

It's simply not possible to enact the love scenes in ''The
English Patient'' our whole life long. Yet lovers, dreaming
of long-stemmed roses, passionate letters, and the electric
shock of each other's touch, give very little thought to
what comes next in a relationship besides boredom. There is
another kind of love worth cherishing, a satisfying and
fulfilling life after infatuation, but it requires trading
in ''I love you more than life itself'' for reality. 

You have to learn to appreciate ''Next to myself, I love
you best.'' 

I recently read in one of my husband's psychiatric journals
that marriages that fail have at some point in their
history an identifiable turning point, a moment when one
partner asked the other for help and was refused or let
down. That act of abandonment and betrayal erodes love and
trust and begins to define the relationship: I turned to
you and you turned away. How can I feel you love me if you
won't put my needs first? The irony, of course, is that the
needy one is also putting her needs first. 

We have to learn not to expect too much of each other. 

Take my case. I have been ill with shingles almost a month
now, in so much pain I could barely feed and bathe myself.
I'm confident my husband would have given xrme his
undivided love and attention in every spare moment if it
hadn't been golf season ... 

He had a date to play golf in Vermont with old friends. 

I didn't ask Jack to cancel his plans because I knew having
him present wouldn't make my ordeal any easier. Loving
myself best, I made sure I could manage without him. Loving
Jack second best, I sent him off as cheerfully as I could
under the circumstances. Jack actually offered to cancel
his plans, but loving himself best, he clearly wanted to
go. Loving me second best, he would have sacrificed his
golf game if I'd stated clearly that it was really
important to me. 

What more can two people expect of each other? 

After 35 years of marriage, I assume it's my responsibility
to ask for what I want. I've given up wishing that Jack
could read my mind. (In my opinion, men make terrible mind
readers. They have trouble enough deciphering the spoken
word.) Nor do I demand that my husband be enthusiastic when
giving up his wishes in order to accommodate mine. How can
I resent his reluctance when in my heart I'd feel exactly
the same way? Given that selfishness is hard-wired in our
species as a survival mechanism, there are no sweeter words
than ''If I had my way, I wouldn't choose to do this, but I
love you so I will.'' 

It's a miracle we're capable of as much devotion as we are.


Marriage, like all of life, is a place where people look
out for themselves, but here's the irony. It's in our own
self-interest to care deeply about meeting our partner's
needs. True love means knowing that the best way to take
care of yourself is to care for others. 

It's no wonder my story ends, ''The king and queen lived
happily ever after.''

Linda Weltner is a freelance writer. Her column appears
each week in At Home.