Nada Como El Sol

Every coupling is a rescue on some level.

I don't mean the act of physical coupling. I know I'm given to flights of poetic language from time to time, but at the same time I don't think I've earned a reputation of being coy-by-way-of-euphemism either. Any regular reader of this space will know I'm proud to talk about boning as boning. Well, maybe "proud" was the wrong word...

I think we've all see the "who rescued who?" stickers with a paw print on them from a proud dog or cat owner. That's kind of leaning in the direction that I'm going here, except a) I think you'll find you mean "who rescued WHOM" obviously and b) that's a terrible example because in 100% of the cases, the human definitely rescued the animal pet. Like, definitely. Unless it's in the event where, like, Old Yeller drove off an attacking boar, the one providing the shelter and regular, reliable access to both food and medical care gets to be the one doing the rescuing. Yes, it's very cute that you're co-dependent with your animal, but only one of you saved the other from being euthanized for budgetary reasons.

And also this isn't to say that every coupling-as-rescue is a good thing. The closer it is to a literal rescue, the more likely it is to be a power imbalance leading to dysfunction. A lot of people liked Pretty Woman, but check in with that couple--the emotionally neglected billionaire and the woman whose best remaining option was prostitution--in a year and at least one of them is urinating in the other's coffee and maybe also sport-fucking Jason Alexander.

There's nothing inherently wrong with singlehood that requires rescuing, let's be clear. Depending on your personality,* being single might be the best option for your, either for the moment or long-term. But if you're like most people for whom a partner (or partners, no judgment you indefatigable polyamorous weirdos) provides that warm feeling of life-affirming security, if you're not with someone, you're probably in the process of (or at least open to) stumbling into one.

And it's always stumbling, isn't it? Even with the modern form, mediated by online dating, eliminating the awkward need to bother people in the cereal aisle or while they're heavy-breathing through spin class, there's no way to completely un-kink a biologically determinatively kinked process of nerves and almost constant disappointment.

However long the wait is, or however laborious the screening and screening and screening, it only has to succeed once to have been worth it. That's just one of the many ways love is almost exactly like terrorism.

The things you rescue each other from are the obvious things like loneliness and boredom and bitterness and the existential panic at the prospect of eventually dying alone. But there are also the more practical benefits of being helicoptered out of the pit of online dating altogether. Now all the awkwardness in coffee shops can come from the deficiencies in your genuine personality and not the inherent artifice of a first date meeting, which is a massive relief.

And in the early days, where the hormone cocktail bathing your brain suppresses higher brain function and blurs your awareness of events not actively occurring inside your new love(r)'s eyes or whatever, you're also temporarily rescued from the oppressive, spirit-crushing, relentless news cycle. Anyone who has ever spent $80 on flowers knows infatuation makes you a goddamned idiot. Expensive, yes, but in these dark times, a loss of worldly perspective, however fleeting, can only be a blessed relief.

Also being happily coupled can only serve to make self-described incels feel worse about themselves. It's not really related to the general thesis, but it's a nice bonus.

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*Solitary? Introverted? Smelly?