Freedom

I keep hearing that men are commitment-phobic. Better writers than I have pointed out that given the social expectation that a woman will have sex with a man she is friendly with, there’s not much incentive for a short-sighted man to commit himself to her.(*) If he’s only interested in a sexual relationship for right now, and not in kids or sex when he’s middle-aged—he already has what he wants.

But I think there’s more. When I hear people talking about their lives, and the lives of those they admire, I find that they often seem to fear losing their freedom as though this were the be-all and end-all of their identity. They admire the footloose, who pull up stakes to live in India for a year, always ready for a fling. “Free as the breeze.”

It is hard to communicate with people who have such radical misconceptions, and harder still when they’ve imbibed them unthinkingly from the zeitgeist.

They’ve confused two different things. There is an intrinsic freedom in our natures that makes us agents. But what we usually think of as “freedom” is more of a property of time than of us—it is the possibility of action. (I’ll ignore political freedom for now. That’s yet another use of the word.)

And just as we use time, we use our freedom, even if only to waste our time and waste our possibilities. This kind of freedom is like a consumable, to be used in creating something: play time, fixing the neighbor’s car, teaching the kids—which in turn produce other things—a happy neighbor or more mature kids.

Once I’ve spent the time and freedom, it doesn’t come back; so of course I need to be wise. But if I’m afraid to choose, I lose the opportunities anyway. The so-much-admired footloose wanderer never actually creates a serious relationship, much less a marriage, because he (or she) is afraid to use his life; afraid to make anything but superficial choices.

I’m married. I traded some freedom and possible choices for a marriage; for children; for lives molded together; for someone to rely on and someone who can trust me.

I’ve a profession and a job. I gave up other possibilities for this one, and subject to the contingencies of work life (will money for salaries be there?), I can learn and help and be trusted. It’s a little too late for me to become a doctor now, and astronaut is completely out of the question. I spent my freedom.

Of course we can spend our freedom making stupid choices that we pay for for the rest of our lives. Some even damage our nature as free agents: addictions, for instance. Life is risky.

What will you buy with your time and your choices?

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(*) What power there is a simple phrase: “take the relationship to the next level.” It covers over assumptions, slides past questions, and blurs distinctions—an amazing black magic incantation for conjuring someone into bed.