The Joy of Being Close: Relational Trust is Necessary for True Intimacy

In a recent Aeon article titled “The Joy of Intimacy,” British writer Lily Dunn tells the story of growing up with a polyamorous father. The affairs were kept secret for years, until at age six, her father left the family for India to a join a cult that appraised sexual promiscuity. Dunn reflects on the ramifications her father’s behavior had on her family and the way she perceived her own relationships later in life. But her reflections soon turn into a meditation on the nature of intimacy, and how without relational trust and privacy within a marriage, people are hurt.

The sexual revolution merits criticism in several ways, but Dunn’s article may reveal its most personal and painful fallout yet. Promiscuity and infidelity have their own dangers and risks, but more than anything, Dunn’s father, like so many others under the spell, chose to separate sex from responsibility, the body from relational trust, and pleasure over family. In short, intimacy within a trusting relationship is impossible under a polyamorous model. For the relationship between the sexes to flourish, it needs to be helmed by the safeguards of commitment, trust, and privacy. Dunn writes, “Apologists for adultery might say, it was only sex, she or he meant nothing. Polyamorists might do the same. Either way, intimacy is the sticking point…Real intimacy has less of a relationship with sex than it does with trust and the naked self.”[1]

Dunn has uncovered a forgotten truth in a culture so sexualized that relationship, trust, and intimacy all go down the drain amidst the confusion. Sex is not primarily about self-gratification or personal expression, but about giving oneself to another person out of love, trust, and sanctity. It’s a wondrous exchange of delight for the other, a love across differences. The greatest pleasure happens when the romantic bonds between a man and a woman are experienced in this context of relational trust and fidelity. If you were to look at the current conversation about sex and relationships today, however, you would think all this topic amounts to is self-actualization and personal expression. A person’s sexual orientation is equitable to their very identity as a person, and so almost everything hangs in the balance in how one identifies and expresses themselves. But a key part missing from the hubbub is relationship, how we relate to each other within this most intimate of spheres. We’ve put sexuality at the centerpiece of human identity and have taken responsible relationship completely out of our mental gallery. If sexuality is all about self-discovery and bodily pleasure, then of course, polyamory is the natural conclusion. But what about the trust and familial bonds this approach so clearly violates, as it did in the life of Dunn?

In Genesis, Adam and Eve are regarded as “one flesh.” Their marriage signifies a remarkable and mysterious union. And not only marital relations share this kind of glory. Consider the friendship between David and Jonathan in 1 Samuel. It’s said they “loved each other as their own souls.” Same sex relationships are deeply celebrated in Scripture, but the writers of the Old Testament knew that the sexual union between a man and a woman should remain hallowed ground, specific to that relationship. Otherwise, the trust, commitment, and love needed for a good marriage is compromised for a misguided quest for identity and self-actualization. We end up losing, as we have in the west, satisfying same sex friendships, and instead gain an even deeper confusion about who we are and how we’re indebted to treat each other. To salvage the beauty of sex, we need to accept the responsibility and trust that it demands.

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[1] Dunn, Lily. “The Joy of Intimacy: What my Father’s Infidelities Taught Me About Intimacy.” Aeon. February 4^th, 2020. https://aeon.co/essays/what-my-fathers-infidelities-taught-me-about-intimacy