Dear Duana,
Doctors told me I had terminal cancer at age 22, and my boyfriend bolted. He literally left me at the hospital following the diagnosis and never returned. I was heartbroken about a lot of things, but cancer made it very clear to me what I must have to live a full life. I want a great love—a committed love—a soulmate. Will anyone ever be willing to look beyond my diagnosis and love me that way? Or will the cancer scare everyone off?
—Laurel
Dear Laurel,
I am so sorry about your diagnosis, and the callous way that boy treated you. I still remember like it was yesterday, even though 13 years have passed.
Although there’s not much research that directly addresses illness and finding a lifemate, I want to prepare you for some good news for a change. Because research on other External Barriers to relationships—obstacles that make it difficult to be together, or that threaten to take away the option—does exist. And barriers tend to create a strong desire (in men, especially, some research shows) to get what they can’t easily have. Think of barriers as an externally imposed Hard To Get, and you’ve got the idea.
Ever heard the saying, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” Well, that adage is usually wrong. “Out of sight, out of mind” is more like it when science examines established couples who decide to live far apart—say, when they attend different universities, or move for jobs in different cities. The major exception? Geographic distance the couple *does not choose*—such as at the beginning of a relationship—can intensify yearning and speed up love and commitment. Who would have thought long-distance dating could be an advantage?
What about the people you might have known who actually fell more deeply in—not out—of love when their parents openly disapproved? R. Driscoll and other scientists confirmed that phenomenon over 35 years ago, dubbing it the “Romeo and Juliet effect”. Parents who increased their attempts to break the couple apart were rewarded with kids who fell even more deeply in love, but if disapproval disappeared, love cooled, too. (Parents, take note!).
Or maybe you’ve been at a bar and noticed that the guys showed a lot more interest as it appeared you might be leaving. Studies done by J. A. Pennebaker and others showed you didn’t imagine that; most men and some women find the opposite sex more attractive as closing time nears and the opportunity to find a sweetie narrows. With a nod to a country music standard, Pennebaker’s article was even called “Don’t the girls get prettier at closing time.” (And for those who think beer goggles could as easily explain the results, please note that Pennebaker factored in the number of drinks consumed.)
Of course, illness is also a barrier. And the studies above give us reason to assert that especially with a chronic, life-threatening condition, illness presents the ultimate obstacle between two people—potentially increasing their love and hastening their commitment.
I say “potentially” because nothing can force one person to love another. But barriers do create clarity and motivation when people are attracted. Just as driving two hours to a date makes it really clear whether or not the effort was worth it and instills longing if two people are naturally drawn to each other, illness makes it rather difficult to fence-sit. Your diagnosis gave clarity to your boyfriend, telling him he wasn’t serious and wouldn’t be sticking around. It gave you clarity, too—you knew, in that moment, that above all else you wanted a great love in your life, for the rest of your life.
So Laurel, here is the good news, and there’s a lot of it. First, your days of being played—of having guys waste your time, emotions and body—ended with that diagnosis. From that point forward, men knew with a palpable immediacy whether or not they cared enough to call, much less court. And many didn’t. But that’s okay, because…
Second, Mr. Right will not only stick around through learning Miss Right has cancer—he’ll become clear very quickly that he never wants to be without you, so long as you both shall live.
In your case, it’s easy to be 100% sure. Because I remember your skepticism the first time we discussed this. And I remember when you met Kent, who didn’t bolt when you revealed your history with cancer. I remember that two weeks later, when you found out you had lymphoma again, he wouldn’t leave your side. I recall his marriage proposal to you just two months later—and your refusal, because you just couldn’t believe he would stay, and you thought he would later regret marrying a woman with cancer. I remember your wedding day, and the eight happy years you spent with your Great Love, your Committed Love, your Soulmate.
And I remember your funeral, too. The only man there with any regrets was a former boyfriend of yours who confided to me: “What a fool I was. Laurel only had a few years left, and Kent got them. He had everything. He had her.”
Laurel, I hope you will forgive me for using a name that isn’t yours, and for telling your story without your permission. But I recently met someone else with a situation similar to yours, and I thought: Science alone isn’t going to help all the people out there who have diabetes, or heart disease, or HIV, or cancer, or anything else, to understand that they are still loveable and that the right person will not only see their worth, but will cherish them and the time they’ve got. Your experience could help them more than facts alone ever could. Thank you, Friend. I miss you every day. If it is possible, absence has made my heart grow fonder.
Love,
Duana
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All material copyrighted by Duana C. Welch, Ph.D., 2010