My experience of what a loving relationship is like rings true

The American music critic and essayist Robert Christgau, known as the “Dean of American Rock Critics,” once said: “My experience of what a loving relationship is like rings true with a lot of people I meet. I have a theory that the people you meet, one way you choose them, is their suitability for you in that particular matter. Attitudes toward friendship and marriage are in many cases closely aligned.” Though he spoke of love and friendship from the vantage of personal experience, his words carry a wisdom far deeper than sentiment. They reveal an ancient truth about human connection—that the bonds we form, whether of passion or companionship, are shaped by the same root: affinity of spirit.

The meaning of Christgau’s reflection is both subtle and profound. He suggests that we do not stumble upon others by chance, but rather, we are drawn—consciously or unconsciously—to those whose hearts and habits harmonize with our own. Friendship and marriage, though different in form, are born of the same soil: shared values, mutual respect, and emotional understanding. What he calls “suitability” is not the perfection of another person, but their resonance—the way their rhythm aligns with ours in the great symphony of life. The friend who makes us laugh, the lover who challenges and comforts us—these are chosen not by logic, but by the quiet recognition of kinship in the soul.

The origin of this insight lies in the timeless philosophy of human nature. From the ancients of Greece to the sages of the East, thinkers have long seen love and friendship as mirrors of one another. Aristotle spoke of three kinds of friendship: those of pleasure, of utility, and of virtue—the last being the purest and most enduring. In marriage, as in friendship, virtue must be the foundation: the mutual desire for the other’s good, the harmony of purpose, the joy in shared growth. Christgau’s observation is a modern echo of that eternal wisdom. He reminds us that love is not merely desire, nor friendship mere comfort, but that both are paths toward a deeper understanding of ourselves and others.

History offers luminous examples of such alignment between friendship and love. Consider the relationship between Abigail and John Adams, whose letters reveal a partnership built not merely on affection, but on intellectual companionship and mutual respect. They challenged and admired each other in equal measure; their marriage was, at its heart, a friendship that endured through war, distance, and age. So too with the great Roman statesman Cicero, who wrote that friendship is “agreement in all things human and divine.” His words might have pleased Christgau, for they reflect the same belief—that the qualities which sustain a great friendship are those that sustain a lasting love: empathy, honesty, and faithfulness.

Christgau’s notion that “you choose people for their suitability” also speaks to the quiet agency of the heart. We do not always recognize why certain souls enter our lives, yet something within us knows. We are drawn to those who teach us, who reflect our values, or who awaken dormant parts of ourselves. A man who values truth will seek honesty in his friends and tenderness in his love; one who values freedom will gravitate toward those who let him breathe. Thus, our relationships become mirrors of our evolution. Each friendship, each romance, reveals what we seek—and what we are ready to give.

At the same time, Christgau’s insight carries a gentle warning. Our attitudes toward friendship and marriage reveal our understanding of love itself. If we treat friendship lightly, we may bring that same carelessness into romance. If we cherish our friends with patience and humility, we prepare the heart for deeper love. The ancients understood that all relationships are training grounds for virtue—each teaching us the art of balance between self and other. The friend teaches loyalty, the lover teaches vulnerability, and both together teach compassion. To love well, we must first learn to be a good friend; to be a good friend, we must learn to love without possession.

The lesson, then, is clear and enduring: cultivate your friendships with the same devotion you give to love, and let your love carry the honesty and freedom of true friendship. Seek not perfection in those you meet, but suitability of spirit—the quiet alignment of values and dreams. Choose companions who lift you toward wisdom, who challenge without wounding, who comfort without enabling. And when you find such souls, whether as friends or lovers, hold them with gratitude and grace, for they are the rare reflections of your own best self.

For as Robert Christgau reminds us, love and friendship are not separate paths—they are twin roads leading to the same horizon. To walk them well is to understand that human connection, in all its forms, is both our greatest art and our most sacred calling. And when we meet those who walk beside us with the same rhythm of heart, we find what every age has sought: not just companionship, but the peace of being truly known.