Dear Prudence is Slate’s advice column. Submit questions here. (It’s anonymous!)
Dear Prudence,
I’m 25, my boyfriend is 27, and we’ve been together for about a year and a half. We’ve had some ups and downs, but I know that I love him and he loves me. Though we’ve said “I love you” to each other, we have never said that we were in love. So, the other night, I brought it up and asked him if he was in love with me. He responded that he loves me and thinks that our love has grown deeper throughout our relationship, but that he thinks that being “in love” is just the feeling of butterflies at the beginning of a relationship and doesn’t really mean anything. He was honest, but at the same time, it felt as if he sort of dodged my question.
I think of loving someone and being in love as the opposite of what he does—that you love someone at the beginning of a relationship, but you grow to be in love as time passes. I’m left feeling hurt and dissatisfied by his response. When I think about the future of our relationship, like imagining us saying our wedding vows one day, it’s important to me that we feel that we’re in love. I’m sure he could tell I was hurt when he said it, and yet, he didn’t do much to reassure me. The conversation ended there, and we went to bed. Could this really just be a difference of semantics, or could it be an indication that he doesn’t feel as deeply about me as I do about him? If it were the other way around, I absolutely would have affirmed something that I knew was important to him. How should I follow up on this conversation?
—Love or in Love?
Dear In Love,
I’m going to list the things that stood out to me in your letter, in order from least important to most important.
Not important at all: The definitions of love and in love in your boyfriend’s mind and which one he thinks applies to this moment in your relationship.
Moderately/possibly more than moderately important: the ups and downs you reference. (What happened? And were these ups and downs related to the theme of you wanting more commitment, enthusiasm, or affection from him? If so, that matters …)
Very important: Whether said ups and downs, combined with your sense that he isn’t as affirming to you as you would be to him, are leaving you feeling shitty and, well, unloved in this relationship.
If the intensity of your feelings and your boyfriend’s feelings, your hopes for the future, and your communication styles were really aligned, you would feel so secure that you wouldn’t be in the weeds about your respective definitions of various terms because you wouldn’t have felt the need to ask “Are you in love with me?” in the first place. I’m not saying things are doomed between the two of you, but I encourage you to scrutinize how you actually feel in this relationship day to day a lot more and scrutinize his language a lot less.
Give Prudie a Hand in “We’re Prudence”
Sometimes even Prudence needs a little help. This week’s tricky situation is below. Submit your comments about how to approach the situation here to Jenée, and then look back for the final answer here on Friday.
Dear Prudence,
Just over two months ago, I was unexpectedly dumped by my boyfriend of more than a year, a man with whom I’m still deeply in love; I had wanted to marry him. It was devastating. Throughout our relationship, I suffered from intense feelings of jealousy, mostly about a certain female friend of his, but also generally jealous feelings about his exes and his female friends. I drove myself crazy with my insecurity. I never had any real reason not to trust him. My jealousy wasn’t the reason he gave for dumping me, but I feel it may have been a contributing factor. Regardless, it certainly made us both unhappy. I hated feeling like a crazy, possessive girlfriend.
It has been more than two months since the breakup, and despite moving abroad for a fellowship and being in an exciting and beautiful new country, I’m still reeling. I’m plagued by so many jealous thoughts about the idea of him dating someone else, sleeping with someone else, even just the knowledge that he is talking to that close female friend of his. (He and I currently aren’t talking at all—we’re taking a period of no contact so we can explore being friends in the future.) I hate that I don’t know what he’s up to. I have jealous dreams more than once a week. I got a therapist because I’m deeply unhappy and struggling. But she isn’t helping me tackle the jealous thoughts themselves. She just tells me to distract myself when jealous thoughts occur (already doing that), make time for things I enjoy (already doing that), and try medication (just started one). How does one actually reframe thoughts of jealousy and possessiveness? I don’t think I can distract or medicate my way out of this problem. I don’t want to suffer from it in future relationships either. I’ve felt a little bit jealous in past relationships, but never this intensely.
—Green-Eyed Monster
Dear Prudence,
My social circles are a mix of folks from different backgrounds, cultures, and generations. That is, until the past few years. Suddenly, making friends with people younger than me has become hard. COVID made life weird for everybody. It made me a work-from-home employee, with colleagues spread across the globe. It’s hard to make new work friends via Slack and Zoom. On the upside, I got to move to a more affordable city, where I’ve volunteered at events and connected with people my age or older.
However, I just turned 60, and 30-year-olds now talk to me like I don’t know about polyamory, permaculture, or how to work my iPhone. What? I want my social life to include people who turn me on to new tunes, or talk career pivots, or who need a sympathetic ear as they parent teenagers. I am a good listener, can organize anything, and am an enthusiastic, if untalented, dancer. Homophobia and religious intolerance have robbed me of family intergenerational relationships. How else can I invite younger adults into my life?
—Cool Auntie Vibes
Dear Cool Auntie Vibes,
I am 100 percent sure that many younger people out there would absolutely love to be friends with you, would deeply appreciate your wisdom and perspective, and would be inspired to learn from you about how to remain vibrant and open-minded as they get older. So, I was determined to answer your letter even though I didn’t initially have any great ideas about how to find them. (My first thought was to start a social media account displaying your cool outfits and highlighting your amazing lifestyle, then following up in the DMs with the 30-year-olds who commented “GOALS!” and “I want to be like you when I grow up.” I obviously spend too much time on social media. Also, that doesn’t sound very efficient.)
So I turned to Google and found a great article by Vox’s Charley Locke about the value of intergenerational friendships. The writer acknowledges that making friends with people 20 years older or younger than you can be challenging (so you should feel affirmed that your struggle is common and relatable!) and echoes a lot of what you’ve said about the value of these relationships.
To find friends of different ages, her first tip is to meet through shared interests. For you, this might simply mean rethinking the types of events you choose for volunteering. Locke writes:
When you’re looking to develop a friendship with someone beyond your age range (or your life experiences more broadly), joining a local group is a great way to do it. That could mean a book club at the library, a community garden, or a pickleball tournament. If you’re drawing a blank on possible interests, volunteering at an organization, like a food pantry or a local election campaign, is a great path.
And she quotes Eunice Lin Nichols, co-CEO of CoGenerate, an organization that brings together people from different generations, who suggests, “Look for opportunities that are touted as kid- or family-friendly, or open to older adults.” The article includes a reminder to take the people you meet from acquaintance to friend by asking questions about their life experiences and remembering to “practice grace about your differences.” The piece goes on to provide more good tips about nurturing your new friendships, but I’m guessing many of them would come naturally to you.
So, rest assured that the work you’re doing in this area is worth it. And go on down to the pickleball courts.
How to Get Advice From Prudie
Submit your questions anonymously here. (Questions may be edited for publication.)
Dear Prudence,
Two of my cousins, who are sisters, are having weddings this year a couple of months apart. One cousin is inviting kids, and one is not. We cannot attend the no-kids wedding—we have two little kids, the wedding is a day’s drive away, any family who could babysit will also be at the wedding, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving kids that young with an unfamiliar babysitter in an unfamiliar place. Would it be rude to go to one wedding but not the other, given that they’re so close together? Should we just regretfully decline both invites?
—Might Be Overthinking This
Dear Overthinking This,
Not rude at all! People who have kid-free weddings know that will make it difficult for some of their guests to attend, and they’ve accepted that risk. Explain that you really hate to miss it but the logistics won’t work for your family, and send a gift.
Dear Prudence,
I have a family member who politicizes everything under the sun and spouts everything-phobic rhetoric almost constantly. I can’t stand it! I have close friends and family in the LGBTQ+ community, and he constantly insults their existence. I rarely ever discuss my views, but my family often initiates “debates” that I’m not allowed to ignore because it’s “just a question/discussion/me sharing my views!” I can’t bring friends over because he lives there. We can’t have a conversation anymore without him screaming about politics.
I’ve tried to get through to him, I’ve tried “agree to disagree,” I’ve tried ignoring him, and he just keeps watching Fox News on maximum volume and engaging my parents in “discussions” that seem to only end up as echo chambers. I can’t go anywhere—I’m a college student living at home, and if my friends could afford an apartment, I would been gone in a snap. Instead, I have to live with him every holiday (he’s a college senior) and silently listen to him scream about how my friends are evil, I’m going to hell, and only conservatives are capable of being right. How do I survive this with minimal support and nowhere to run?
—Left and Right
Dear Left and Right,
Whenever he starts ranting, take out your phone, hit record, and announce that you’re making a series about family debates for TikTok. When he protests, look as innocent as possible and say, while still recording, “Wait, but you’re proud to share your views, right? You love talking politics! Don’t be shy: What was it you were telling me about my friends burning in hell?” Turn the camera on yourself and say, “We’re now going to hear from my cousin [full name], who is a [profession] at [employer]. His topic today is why homophobia is justified. Please respond in the comments. He loves a healthy debate,” then flip it back to him. Continue until he storms off or shuts up.
Classic Prudie
Like a lot of people, I have been writing a novel during lockdown in my country this last year. I’ve always wanted to write this novel, as it’s a story idea I’ve had in my head for many years, and getting the opportunity to work on it properly has been one of the only upsides of this horrible period. I’ve never particularly intended on publishing it—it’s just an ambition I’ve had to complete something like this, and it gives me pleasure to have completed a full draft of something so important to me. My husband, however, has been the exact opposite of supportive.
