Think of that friend who calls you at 2 a.m. after a fight, crying, swearing they’ll never speak to you again, then shows up at your door the next evening with your favorite street food and an apology you didn’t ask for. Or the colleague who praises your work in meetings but subtly undermines you in emails. We’ve all been there: tangled in relationships where affection and irritation, care and control, seem to arrive in the same breath.
It’s exhausting, confusing, and probably what humans do. We rarely feel one thing at a time. We love people who frustrate us, forgive those who hurt us, and sometimes carry tenderness for someone we would rather not speak to again. As per Sigmund Freud, a dog seems to have no such trouble separating devotion from hostility. And that simple contrast opens the door to a much more complicated question about what it means to love another person.
