Does anything matter

Stick with me here, I couldn't come up with a title

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I took an applied finance class in college. One class, the professor was trying to explain to us some financial concept that I cannot remember. I remember the metaphor he used.

Consider a beauty pageant, an elite one like Miss America or Miss Universe. At the end, there is a top ten, and then a top three, and then a winner. (I think? I have not been pageant world adjacent in a decade and a half.) But does who the winner is matter? Probably not. There isn’t really a difference between the top girl and the second or third. While it may matter a lot in the personal lives of the contestants, to the extent that Miss America has a purpose in society, it’s pretty likely any of the top contenders could fulfill that purpose equally well.

I have been thinking about that metaphor a lot recently. Mostly because I have been trying to find- while still on a boat in The Bahamas- and furnish an apartment (I have realized that even if I am going to buy a home in the near future, I need to rent something so that I have a place to live.) I have spent hours looking at couches and rugs, trying to decide if they will fit in the living room of my first choice apartment and whether they will coordinate but not too much and whether I will like them or will regret not picking a different couch.

I am also trying to decide between two very similar apartments in the same building. One has a Juliet balcony and the other has more closet space and a dining alcove. The difference in square footage is less than 50. And while I care very deeply about the aesthetics of my living space, I don’t think it probably matters whether I pick apartment A or B or which of the dozens of beautiful couches I’ve found sits in my living room. They can probably all fulfill their purpose equally well. And if not, I can move and sell a couch.

Do you like this couch? I do but I think it’s probably uncomfortable and that my cats will ruin it in less than a week. CURVO CAMEL VELVET SOFA via cb2

Beyond silly things like apartments and beauty pageants, how interchangeable are the more significant aspects of our lives? If someone’s career goal is prestige, does it matter for their fulfillment comes from a career in academia or law? I don’t know. Consider relationships. When we talk about the qualities we want in a romantic partner, we often talk about things like kindness, a sense of humor, someone who will be a good parent some day. And, of course, I think we do all want personality traits that are compatible with our own. But I don’t think that kindness is what creates a connection.

I think what many of us are really looking for is someone whose work schedule and drive fits well with how much time we want to spend with our significant others. Someone who likes the same sort of television shows and prefers to converse the same amount that we do. Someone who balances us socially- whether that means wanting to be the more or less outgoing spouse. Someone who shares our views on culture and who laughs at our brand of snark. Someone who has the same feelings we do about pop art and kitsch. Is love about kindness or is it about liking the city and thinking Banksy is a hack? Is it about thinking living on Long Island is a nightmare or about being slow to anger? And regardless of which it is, are we predestined to love certain people or could any kind, Hockney fan who prefers Soho to the Upper West Side replace another?

Is love a divine magnetic force between two souls or is it created by compatibility? Does it matter?

xx

Hannah

PS thank you for being here! I would love to know your opinion on all of this in the comments! As always, please like, share, and consider becoming a paid subscriber.

xx

PPS: I realize the irony of posting a modern couch with metal legs in an essay where I make fun of people who think Balloon Dog is good art. The couch is inspired by mid-century Italian furniture and I don’t have $25k to spend on one chair from Herman Miller for a rental apartment. Sue me! Taste has nuance and we’re all hypocrites. Love you mean it.