So if you can’t say yes to love, sex, or remaining the one each fell in love with, what are you agreeing to when you commit to a relationship? It’s just now, eight years later, that I’m finding out what, apparently, I said yes to.

I said yes to the unfolding, impenetrable arc of uncertainty. I guess I thought that finding love was an endpoint, that some kind of search was over and I would find the home that I always wanted to be mine. We would leap over the threshold together into whatever we imagined our ideal cottage to be.

But really we stepped through a crazy looking glass. No matter how hard we tried, how madly in love we were, or how skilfully we planned our life together, there was complete uncertainty about what the connection would feel like from day to day.

I could give all the love I had (with great joy) and get back a blank stare. I could wake up as my crankiest, most sullen and narcissistic self, roll over, and greet the face of unconditional acceptance. Or may be not.

It’s like the weather: you can try to read the signs and guess about atmospheric conditions, but really there’s no telling.

As far as I can see, the relationship never stabilises, ever. In which case you can’t actually promise anything. This is how it works. I have no idea why. But like when I’m listening to a meteorologist explain why it’s going to rain, I think, “Who cares why? I’m just trying to figure out what outfit to wear

today.” —