I believe relationships – like life – are defined as much by the problems that have to be overcome as by the good and easy times. I am old enough to know that no relationships are perfect or conflict free, or without anger, hurt and confusion. I don’t seek a perfect love any more than I have or want the perfect life. Love is sometimes, I think, about confronting things and overcoming them, things I have not always been successful doing.

I was mortified by divorce, and such a thing will never happen to me again, if I can possibly help it. And I can.

I am working at it. Like many people without wealthy or supportive parents, or a good college education, or any strong sense of what I might want to do,  I concluded early on that hard work was the only path for me, and so I took it. I have worked hard almost every day of my life, to the point that I have to learn how to not work hard some days.

Learning to love is hard work as well, especially for someone who comes to it so late and in so confused a state. I am not an open person, and in many ways, the farm was a fort for me, a bastion against the world. I was closed up, wary. I realized that I was living a loveless life, and the thought of spending the rest of my life that way was unbearable as I thought of journey’s end, not so far away. It breaks my heart, still, to think of that.

When I first  realized that I loved Maria, I knew I had to change, and to learn quickly. I began talking to women about what they wanted from men, and I was very surprised by much of what I heard. Many women told me they feared the anger in men, and their tendency to want to control lives, schedules and relationships. Women told me that they wished men would talk to them more. And think of the small things in life that show that one is being thought of and loved – small gifts, a cup of tea, help with work and chores, support and encouragement.

I was struck – saddened – at how many women told me they got much more love from dogs and cats than from men, and by how many women had completely given up on the idea that they would find a man they could or wished to be with. I saw that many women saw their emotional lives and consciousness as existing beyond the awareness or interest of the men around them.

And of course I found many women who dearly loved their mates and were profoundly connected to them.

I focused on this. It seemed to me these women were talking about soulmates as well as lovers. Partners in life. People who saw the world the same way, the people you see talking to one another in restaurants, as opposed to those many I see chewing their food in grim silence.

I write about love because it is important. Because you have to think about it, if you want to have it. And work hard to get it. And keep it. This work, I think, is never done.