I was tender and often, true;
Ever a pray to coincidence,
Always I knew the consequence;
Always saw what the end would be.
We’re as nature made us—hence
I loved them until they loved me.
—Dorthy Parker—
Did Nature really make us so that we despise those who love us? Groucho Marx’s joke,”I wouldn’t belong to any club that wouldn’t have me for a member,” implies the same thing. But this can’t be; we’re children of the universe, each of us exactly as lovable and fallible as all others.
Many of us go through years of upheaval in which we want only what we can get. If we should get it, heaven forbid, it turns to rubbish in our hands. Some people call this the “reverse Midas touch,” and it’s common enough so that we all recognize it.
This is a symptom of self-mistrust, of self-dislike. If we believe in ourselves, we’ll evaluate those are drawn to us on their merits. For someone to love us doesn’t automatically mean that their deluded. It might simply mean that they love us.
If I don’t love myself, I won’t really be able to love back someone who does.