'Small moments are more powerful than a grand gesture': Irish writers reflect on love
O'flanagan, Gill, Goodwin, Nugent, And O'donoghue, Caroline Murray Harrington Stefanie Top Clockwise Liz Dani From Preissner, Emma Sadhbh Sheila Left: Carmel
With Valentine’s Day on the horizon, we asked Irish writers aged from their 20s to their 60s three questions: What does love mean to you? How has your understanding of love changed as you’ve aged? How did the pandemic impact your love life?
something you choose to do with people you care about – when I make food for friends, or they lend me a book and they’ve underlined bits they thought I’d like.
“I started university during the pandemic. It was a very strange experience. University is supposed to be this point in life where you make all these new relationships, but of course with everything online, it was quite isolating. It was a time of self-reflection and coming to terms with being on my own – and learning to appreciate the relationships I do have and the people who were around me at that time.
“The biggest change over recent years is the importance of found family and friendships that sustain me. I’ve realised the importance of having a network of people in my life who I love and who love me.”
“A friend once told me “relationships are a subculture of two”. It stuck with me. When you’re in love, you feel as though you’re in your own scene, your own planet. There are songs, private lore – mythology joyfully retold. You sit with the person you love and think: this is important. Not just to us, but to the history of human interaction.
“Then you sober up, realise you’re just two people in their pyjamas drinking hard spirits. But the feeling is still real: the two of you are a secret sect, the only people with any sense, and more fun than anyone else you know. Of course, relationships can be hard. But even on those days, the winking knowledge that the subculture is still bubbling underneath is what keeps me going.
“We definitely had tricky moments during the pandemic. The first year, we lived in a one-bedroom flat with our dog. There were great bits: long cycling trips into a deserted central London, playing the guitar together. There were also moments that felt painful. We drifted for a bit. Working in the same small space was difficult – I’m a writer needing total silence; he’s a designer, collaborating with people on the phone all day. Now we’ve moved slightly further out – we’ve a garden, an office each, and we’re much happier.
“I didn’t realise until I hit 30, but I’m a bit of a control freak – in how I want people to see me, how I want to be understood. So I keep problems to myself and even when I share ‘issues’ I’m usually sharing a sanitised version. The deeper into love I get, the more I realise love is about giving up control. If you want to be in love, you have to be comfortable with weakness – especially your own.”
“Love is a journey through life. You’re always learning about it. It’s not static. We all love within our capacity – therefore not all love is equal. Some people naturally go deeper and give more – there’s a generosity in that.
“I limited meeting new people during the pandemic. I’m a member of the LGBTQIA community – in order to date I rely on being able to travel. This wasn't easy with inter-county restrictions. I’m young, I’m social – it was a very isolating time.
“I dated someone during the pandemic, for six months during 2021. It was great. We met online and we saw each other during one of the periods of free movement. The pandemic was a grim time and when you’re dating someone, you’re in that happy space. Dating during the pandemic felt like risk-taking, but it’s important to take the risk because it’s important to have love in your life.
“I’m always redefining love. I think the ability to love is based on how much we love ourselves and have love in our life – no relationship can be healthy or long-lasting without that.
“I was in a relationship for much of my 20s. In my late 20s, I was single. I learned then to deeply appreciate my own identity, what was important to me, what my passions were.
“For LGBTQIA people the social climate can directly affect your love life. Many are still living closeted lives, afraid to come forward because of judgement. In this sense, love has been about finding the courage to pursue what I want, and fighting for it when it was difficult.”
“The thing that’s the same with everyone I love – from my nana to my mother to my husband to my best friend – is safety. I feel emotionally and psychologically safe within those relationships. I don’t have to watch what I say or how I react. I’m safe and free to be my real self in all situations.
“I got engaged and married since the pandemic. It has really given me a chance to reflect on what’s working and what’s not. Some of my relationships have fallen apart because they weren’t strong enough to sustain the pressure of distance or lack of contact. Others, like my romantic relationship, have thrived from the pressure of constant contact and no time apart.
“I used to think love was presents and compliments. I’ve realised it’s a lot less performative. Love is the tiny things – him sitting on the hard seat at Nando’s so I can sit on the comfy one, me going back to the supermarket because I’ve forgotten an ingredient in his favourite dish. It’s the joy in seeing someone else happy. Love really is less about self and more about the other.”
“Love means respect, trust, reliability, stability, willingness to let things go, also communication. It’s when you know the other person so well you don’t take things personally because you understand where they’re coming from.
“During the pandemic, I was up against it with deadlines, he was working all hours and we had two kids needing home-schooling – that role fell to me. We were just ships in the night – he’d be working late, I’d be crashing out in the evening after my day. We were existing – communication was non-existent.
“About week three of lockdown, I communicated what I needed. We made timetables where we each had our duties. Once we had that routine, everything settled and life was a lot easier.
“In your 20s, love is all hearts, flowers and gifts. It’s about validation – material things validate what someone feels for you, so your boyfriend forgetting Valentine’s or not giving a birthday gift, you think: ‘he doesn’t care about me’.
“None of that stuff means anything now. I couldn’t care less about birthday presents. I know love exists, so I don’t need the validation. Now – we’re comfortable in one another’s company. We’re not second-guessing our relationship.”
“We have a piece of personalised art that I bought Roger for our anniversary a few years back. It says: ‘You are my safe place to fall and to fly’. To me, those words represent what love is. No matter what’s happening in our lives, we’ll always be there for each other – to listen, support and understand without judgement.
“With the pandemic, Roger works from home alongside me. It took a beat to find a way to share a workspace, but we’ve managed to make it work. Homeschooling the kids added an additional layer of stress – again we just got on with it. The saving grace was our shared sense of humour. Roger’s ability to make me laugh first attracted me to him – on our worst days during the pandemic, he carried on finding ways to do it.
“I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I believe in love and that there’s someone for everyone. The trick is finding that person. I’ve learned with age that while a grand gesture can make your head spin, it’s the small moments in a relationship that are more powerful. They stay with you and are building blocks to lasting love.”
“Love means having each other’s backs, supporting and listening to each other – being there for each other. It’s certainly not grand gestures of any kind – Richard and I ignore Valentine’s Day. We don’t even mark anniversaries.
“The pandemic brought us closer because we couldn’t meet other people. We had more conversations than ever before. We came to a deeper understanding of each other and we learned a lot about listening and having patience. Like when he’d want to watch Netflix and I’d interrupt it to have a Zoom meeting – I had a book launch during the pandemic. We also made a bigger effort to cook for each other, to surprise each other with new dishes.
“We’re together 21 years and in the beginning it was more selfish for both of us. We were both looking for validation from the other, whereas now it’s about recognising the value of each other and acknowledging that.”
“Love means understanding another person and their understanding you. He knows when to push me about things and I know the same back. It’s about working together as a team, looking out for each other and, if something goes wrong, being supportive.
“Particularly during the heavy lockdowns when we were both stuck at home, we had to make an effort not to get on each other’s nerves. We’d go for our 5K walk separately so as to give each other space. We also made an effort to socialise even though it was only the two of us. We’d do things at home as though we were going out – we got the cook-at-home kits every few weeks, we’d dress up, he’d make cocktails – a bit of a downfall because he got very good at it! And we’d converse over the dinner table – no TV, just music.
“Love in your 20s is very intense – a relationship has you on the edge all the time. As you get older, you get very comfortable with the person. It becomes about the small intimate gestures – knowing when to make a cup of tea for the other – rather than the big flashy ones. Overall, it’s that you have a life together, an understanding.”