The “Intimate Relationship”

Therapists mostly see ordinary people who are unhappy with their lives in one way or another that falls short of the distress needed for psychiatric treatment. One of the things these people must have in common (otherwise why would they see a therapist?) is the lack of anyone they can trust, feel comfortable and safe with, and can share their innermost thoughts, fears, hopes and dreams, without censure or judgement. Since that is what therapists say they provide(1), it seems reasonable to conclude that if they had such a friend, they would not need a therapist. Since the client isn’t going to carry on with therapy indefinitely, it makes sense to suggest that they find someone like this.

Hence the emergence of the idea of the “intimate relationship”, which provides “emotional intimacy”.

This represents a yearning many people have when going through periods of insecurity and doubt. The benefit is supposed to be that “a problem shared is a problem halved” and “misery loves company”, that, having unburdened ourselves, we will go forth and do something about it.

A number of observations.

These relationships require trust, and that’s earned, not given. Opportunities for people to show that they are trustworthy, or to see that someone else is, are few and far between. Not because this is a jungle of a world, but precisely because it isn’t: when everyone is well-behaved, watches their language to avoid offence, only expresses views that conform to the standards of the time and place, and otherwise goes-along-to-get-along, nobody has any idea what anyone really believes and hence if they can be trusted. The risks of badly-chosen trust can run from losing one’s job to being ostracised by one’s family, and those just aren’t risks worth taking.

(Better, perhaps, to go to someone who is bound by confidentiality, can be sued if they break it, and knows nobody you know. That’s what therapists really get paid for.)

The conversations may consist of one person venting while the other listens, and there’s no intention to solve the problem. At worst this allows the venter to remain in a situation they should really leave, so that the listener is put in the position of enabling some dysfunction in the venter’s life. Almost as bad is that the venting is a drama pay-off for the venter, putting the listener in the position of a passive one-person audience to what is really a soliloquy. Most people, if they suspect they are just there for the talker to vent, will get themselves out of it - sometimes with the remark that “it sounds like you need to see a therapist”.

The speaker may not be talking about what they need to be talking about, and do not know what they need to be talking about. We can usually sense this, even if we don’t know the details. It reduces the listener to being polite and helpless, which is not something people usually want to be, and the usual way out is to sympathetically admit that they can’t really help, and maybe the speaker should see a therapist.

Whoever we share with must understand what we are talking about, and we must know they understand. We need to know they have been through something like we are going through, or have been through, and also that their circumstances are enough like ours that whatever it was had a similar effect on their lives as it did on ours. Hence the phrase “you weren’t there, you couldn’t know”. Only those who were there, who have been through the same thing, can know, and so understand what our words mean. To everyone else, we may as well be speaking in Mandarin: they won’t know about the details, and it’s the details that matter.

For some people, such experiences create a sense of alienation: no-one who wasn’t there will ever understand them. Communication with people who weren’t there will never be much above the level of swapping mundane facts or talking about the weather. Even if we never meet other people who “were there”, the possibility of that conversation remains as the standard by which all others will fail.

Relationships are “for-something-together”: playing seven-a-side, raising children, installing double-glazing, cooking food, watching a movie, talking about a subject of mutual interest, baby-sitting each other’s children, spotting each other at the gym, and so on. Venting-and-listening might be on this list, but if it’s the whole relationship, we’re probably looking at a narcissist taking advantage of a co-dependent.

So the “intimacy” is only part of the relationship: in other words, it’s someone you have-to-do with for one purpose, and you also trust them enough to talk about whatever-it-is, and you think they will be sympathetic to such a conversation. It’s not the relationship that’s “intimate”, it’s some conversations you have as a consequence of the relationship.

If you have someone in your life like that, you’re lucky. Use the opportunity too often, and you may lose them.



(1) I’m not being cynical. If you reveal un-Islamic thoughts to your Islamic therapist, or un-liberal thoughts to your liberal therapist, you will be subject to ideological correction, because that’s what they think you came to them for. That’s not what you go to your “intimate friendship” for.