In Das Rheingold, the prelude of Richard Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen opera cycle—at 17 hours, the world’s largest work of art—the story opens with three water nymphs guarding a pile of magic gold that, if made into a ring, would bestow upon its owner total world domination for a nominal fee: One must first renounce love. A lecherous dwarf named Alberich does the math, renounces love, takes the gold and winds up marrying a Paraguayan soccer fan. To this day, he has no regrets.

Meanwhile I have a friend named Carmen who lives in San Francisco with an architect who, among other things, knows how crucial it is to wear a belt when your shirt’s tucked in. He loathes sports, reads book reviews (but not books) and listens to Patty Griffin. He empathizes with Carmen (for the most part) when she has issues with girlfriends and co-workers, and makes a valiant effort to love her dog. Their sex life is good, but not oppressive or gimmicky, and he knows how to take an emotional beating without losing his cool. In addition, he owns two pairs of yoga pants—olive and lavender.

Problem is, they’ve been together for 6 years, and she’s now getting sick of him.

Like Carmen, most everyone I know makes the opposite bargain of the lecherous dwarf. In choosing love over world domination—or, rather, love over independence and disposable income and foosball tables in the living room—they gained a developed character, a modicum of selflessness and quite often children. Yet today they find themselves with a lurking, mysterious unhappiness that is sending their personal relationships into doubt. And, strangely, they are distancing themselves from their significant others not for the arms of another but for no one at all.

What is the cause of all this? A woman I know named Fiona, whose husband left her for another woman, says that texting is to blame. The ability for people to send secret messages to each other, she believes, has created a new, rapid courtship accelerator that is making it harder and harder for individuals to sweat out an unhappy marriage.

Though it’s simplistic and a little bit reactionary, she has a point. I know of several marriages ruined by high-school-sweetheart reunions on Facebook, and who can deny the sheer erotic power of the words “thinkin bout u” appearing on your phone at midnight? As tired and worn-out as it sounds, technology, media and culture are certainly to blame for this pervasive dissatisfaction. But, not really.

To say that our modern world is making it impossible to sustain a relationship would presume that past generations needlessly suffered through marriages and relationships in the same way Civil War soldiers endured amputations with a swig of bourbon and something to bite down on.

Rather, I think that today’s dissatisfied individual is expecting too much from friendships, too much from dreams, too much from love.

It reminds me, years ago I was in a movie theater waiting the movie to start. In front of me were two women. One talked and talked about her life; the other listened, nodded and smiled.

Just as the lights were going down, the talkative woman sat up and said, “I hope you don’t mind, Alice. I hope this is okay with you. Do you mind? I’m sure you don’t. It’s just my thing. It’s how I am. Okay, see you after.” And she went and sat by herself in another part of the theater.

Maybe, like this woman, we just need to be strong enough to be alone.

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B. Brandon Barker is an online media strategist with clients that include U.S. News & World Report, Time-Warner, Food Network, The Nielsen Company, Revolution Health, Entergy, Amplify Public Affairs and Dogster. His short stories have appeared in Global City Review, The Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror (St. Martin’s Press), Verbicide, and online at McSweeney’s. His first novel, OPERATION EMU, was the subject of a feature story in The Baltimore Sun. A graduate of Sarah Lawrence College, he now lives in rural Virginia.

Tagged in: expectations, love, marriage, strength to be alone, technology