I have been reflecting on a particular kind of relational pleasure that we do not talk about very much: the pleasure of being known well enough to be utilized well.
It may sound strange or even off-putting. We are rightly wary of people who use one another. But that is not what I mean. I mean something much more ordinary and, at the same time, much more profound.
If you know me, you know what I like. You know what I am good at. You know what I have spent years learning, what excites me, what I dream about, and what tends to put me into flow. You know what I can contribute and what I long to contribute.
This is different from simply knowing facts about me. It is different from knowing my history, my demographics, or the stories I have told. It is a deeper familiarity based in positive understanding. An attunement. You have a sense of my particular capacities, enthusiasms, and ways of moving through the world. You have a mental map of me. You know what brings me alive.
To love someone is, in part, to develop this kind of knowledge. You come to see their individuality in a positive glow: their particular collection of talents, interests, experiences, desires, and ways of seeing. You remember these things. You make room for them. You create opportunities for them to bring their offerings forth.
Not because you want something from them. But because you recognize that these are places where they are most themselves. You do it for their sake, because you like and love who they are and you want them to have the opportunity to become more fully themselves.
This is the pleasure of being asked for exactly what you have to offer. To be given space to unfurl into your fullness, to move in the way you most enjoy. The people who afforded you that space get to enjoy what you contribute. And you get the pleasure of being your full, expressive Self.
This is very different from people-pleasing. The people-pleaser asks, What can I do so that you will like me?
This is almost the opposite.
You know me well enough to know what I have to offer. You thought of me. Perhaps you even helped bring it out of me.
There is dignity in being useful in this way. And there is pleasure.
Sometimes we become suspicious of dependency, obligation, expectation, even usefulness. But human beings are not generic or interchangeable. Part of belonging to a family, a friendship, a community, or a partnership is becoming known in one’s particularity. Each person has something distinctive and valuable to contribute.
The people who know us well know which questions to bring to us. They know which experiences we would enjoy. They know what we can teach, what we can build, what we notice that others miss. They know where our gifts live. And they give us opportunities to contribute those gifts. In doing so, they give us the chance to become more fully ourselves.
I think many of us may long for the intimacy in being known in this way. There is joy in having one’s particular nature recognized and called forth. Being seen warmly matters deeply. Not simply to be accepted. But to be known well enough that others know what to do with me. To recognize my particular gifts, desires, knowledge, and capacities. To make room for them. To make room for me. To make room for my becoming.