Among all human psychological needs, the desire for intimate relationships is perhaps the most instinctive and also the most complex. It is like two sides of a coin: on one side, deep connection, nourishment, and belonging; on the other, the risk of potential harm, disappointment, and abandonment. For someone like Sixteen, whose inner world was filled with insecurity and pessimistic presuppositions, the door to intimate relationships was often the most tightly locked and the most intimidating.
In Chapter Two, through revisiting her unsuccessful relationship with Mr. A, we had already dissected how "mutual screening" theory operated in her relationships. But that dissection was more at the level of "technique," analyzing her behavioral patterns. This time, we would dive into deeper waters, exploring the more fundamental "Way" that drove those behavioral patterns -- her core beliefs about gender, love, and trust.
The opportunity to break the ice came from a plea for help from her. A new male colleague had joined her company. He showed considerable interest in her, repeatedly making friendly gestures and hinting at wanting to take things further. This threw Sixteen into great turmoil.
"I don't know what to do," she said on the video call, her brows knitted, her expression anxious. "On one hand, he does seem like a nice guy -- gentle, polite. I don't dislike him. But on the other hand, the moment I think about entering a new relationship, every hair on my body stands on end. There's a huge voice inside me shouting: 'Run! Danger!'"
"What specifically is this 'danger'?" I pressed. "What are you most afraid of happening?"
"I'm afraid of... repeating the same mistakes," she said. "I'm afraid that, like last time, it will start off feeling good, but then slowly he will discover how terrible I really am, start to dislike me, and eventually leave me. That feeling of falling from hope to disappointment... I really don't want to go through that again."
"Besides the fear of being abandoned, are there other fears?"
She hesitated for a long time, as if touching on a topic she found even harder to speak about. "There's also... my mother told me since I was little that in relationships, girls are the ones who 'lose out.' She said a girl's youth is very precious. If you invest your emotions and time and it doesn't work out in the end, it's all been wasted. And... she said girls should know how to 'love themselves,' shouldn't casually have intimate contact with men, otherwise they become 'cheap,' and then 'no one will want them.'"
She poured out this teaching that had been buried deep in her heart. These words were like invisible chains that had tightly bound her imagination of intimate relationships ever since she entered adolescence.
This is a widely circulated, highly gendered "female loss theory" in East Asian culture. This theory deeply ties a woman's value to external indicators like her "youth," "chastity," and ultimately whether she "successfully marries." It appears to "protect" women, but in reality, it instills in them a deep fear and inequality:
- Fear of value depreciation: It suggests that a woman's value "depreciates" over time and with romantic experience, like a commodity waiting to be priced.
- Fear of resource loss: It treats emotional investment as a sunk cost, a non-refundable "expense." If it cannot be exchanged for the "return" of "marriage," it is a failed "investment."
- Fear of bodily shame: It treats a woman's body and sexuality as a "property" that must be strictly guarded. Once "lost," it leads to the "reset to zero" of the entire person's value.
This belief system has a devastating impact on a young woman's psychological health and intimate relationship development. It forces her to enter relationships not as an equal, living "person," but as a "commodity" or "investor" constantly worried about "losing value" or "taking a loss," engaging in calculation and defense.
"Sixteen," I said in a very solemn tone, "thank you for sharing these so openly. First, I want to ask you to look at these beliefs with me and see what they are actually doing to you."
"'Female loss theory' is, in essence, depriving you of your qualification as a 'subject.' It turns you from a 'person' who can freely experience, love, enjoy, and take risks, into a passive 'object' waiting to be valued and selected."
"It tells you that your body is not your own, but the future property of some 'husband.' That your emotions are not for experiencing, but bargaining chips to exchange for marriage. That your youth is not for blooming, but capital to preserve. Do you think someone who internally 'objectifies' themselves to this degree can ever experience true equality, relaxation, and joy in a relationship?"
My words seemed to open a brand new perspective for her. In the past, she had only vaguely felt that these teachings oppressed her. But she had never so clearly seen the profound negation of her value as an independent individual hidden behind this discourse system.
"But... isn't there some truth to these words?" She was still somewhat confused. "In reality, there really seem to be many women who get hurt in relationships and end up with nothing."
"There is truth in them, but it is truth at the level of 'technique,' not at the level of 'Way.'" I explained. "All relationships carry risk. 'Protecting yourself to avoid being hurt' is a completely reasonable need. But the question is: what method do we use to protect ourselves?"
"'Female loss theory' offers an 'island-style' protection. It tells you that to avoid drowning, the best way is to never go into the water at all, to lock yourself on a safe island. The price of this protection is sacrificing the possibility of experiencing the entire ocean."
"What we are exploring today is 'seafaring-style' protection. It acknowledges that the ocean has storms and reefs. But it does not choose confinement. It chooses to learn the skills of sailing. It teaches you how to read the weather, how to steer, how to mend sails, how to save yourself if you fall overboard. It gives you the courage and the ability to ride the storms and explore unknown waters."
"So, the key question is not 'should I protect myself or not,' but whether we choose to become a 'fearful prisoner' or a 'brave sailor.'"
This metaphor of "island versus sailing" plunged Sixteen into deep thought. Then, I steered the topic toward the deeper root of her fear.
"Let's look again at your initial fear -- the fear of repeating past mistakes, the fear of being abandoned. Do you think this fear is directed specifically at men, or specifically at intimate relationships?"
"Have you noticed that in your work, studies, and even many small daily matters, you have a similar pattern: for things whose outcomes you cannot 100% control, you feel immense anxiety and tend to avoid?"
This question, like a key, opened another door in her cognition. She recalled the enormous pressure she felt from the fear of failing exams, the hesitation to start projects for fear of messing them up... Behind these seemingly unrelated events, there was indeed a common thread running through them.
"Yes... it seems that way," she said thoughtfully. "I hate the feeling of things being out of my control. It makes me feel very... unsafe."
"Exactly right." I affirmed her insight. "So, your fear of men, your fear of intimate relationships -- in essence, it is not a fear of the group 'men,' nor a fear of 'love' itself. What you are truly afraid of is 'loss of control.'"
"Why do intimate relationships trigger your strongest 'loss of control' fear? Because they are precisely the most complex, most unpredictable, and least rationally controllable of all human social relationships. It is not like a math problem with a standard answer. It is not like a work project with clear KPIs. It is a dynamic, flowing chemical reaction produced by the collision of two independent, complex souls. Its direction is full of countless variables."
"All your behaviors in past relationships -- whether playing the 'perfect girlfriend' or 'testing' the other person -- you thought you were 'loving,' but in reality, you were trying to 'control.' You tried to control the other person into 'always liking you' through your flawless performance. You tried to control and predict the outcome of 'being abandoned' through tests. You turned a relationship that should have been a duet into a solo performance where you tried to control everything. And when your 'control' attempt inevitably failed, you interpreted it as 'love is unreliable.'"
"So, you see, the root of the problem is not 'men cannot be trusted,' nor 'love hurts.' The root of the problem is your core belief: 'I must control everything, or it is dangerous.' That belief is the key."
This profound analysis let Sixteen see the full picture of her emotional predicament for the first time. She no longer simply blamed her problems on past trauma or her mother's teachings. She saw the more fundamental fear of "loss of control" deep inside her.
"Then what should I do?" She asked the familiar question again. "If intimate relationships are destined to be 'out of control,' then am I forever unable to enter one?"
"No," I said. "We are not going to eliminate 'loss of control.' We are going to change our relationship with 'loss of control.' What we need to learn is not how to 'control' relationships, but how to 'trust' the unknown."
"Trust is not blindly believing that the other person will never hurt you. That is naivety. True trust is an 'adventurous spirit.' It contains three levels of deep cognition:"
"First, trust that you have the ability to 'choose.' You must believe that, as an adult, you have the capacity to select a relatively reliable partner of good character. This means that in the early stages of a relationship, what you need to do is not 'test' the other person's love, but 'observe' their character. See how they treat waitstaff, how they talk about their family and friends, how they react under pressure. These are far more important than how many times they say 'I love you.'"
"Second, trust that you have the ability to 'endure.' You must believe that even if this relationship eventually leads to an outcome you did not hope for, even if you are genuinely hurt, you will not be destroyed by it. You are a resilient, complete individual. You will be sad, you will suffer. But you also have the ability to heal yourself, to learn from the experience, and to move on. Your value will not be defined by the end of a relationship. This trust in your own 'resilience' is the foundation that allows you to invest and be vulnerable in a relationship."
"Third, trust in the value of the 'process' itself. You must believe that the meaning of a relationship is not only whether it reaches the single 'successful' endpoint of marriage. It also lies in what you shared and experienced together during the journey, and what kind of better self you became because of the other person. Even if you eventually part, the beautiful memories and the profound growth are real, valuable treasures that are not 'lost.'"
"When you have truly established these three levels of 'trust' inside you, you no longer need to 'control' relationships. You will find that you can relax, enjoy the present, express yourself authentically, and curiously explore the other person. You transform the relationship from a war that requires strategic defense into an 'adventure' you can explore the unknown together."
To make this brand new relational paradigm more concrete, I offered her a subversive metaphor.
"Sixteen, our past imagination of intimate relationships has often been a 'lock and key' model. We see ourselves as a 'lock' with gaps and openings, needing to find the unique 'key' that perfectly matches us. This 'key' is the so-called 'soulmate' or 'savior.' They are supposed to fill all our emptiness, heal all our trauma, solve all our problems."
"This model sounds romantic, but it has two fatal problems. First, it places you in a passive, defective position, waiting for someone else to save you. Second, it imposes unrealistic, idealized expectations on the other person. The moment they show any imperfection, your fantasy collapses."
"The brand new model I want to offer you today is the 'question mark and question mark' model."
"In this model, you are not a 'lock' waiting to be filled. You are a 'question mark' full of curiosity and confusion. You have many unanswered questions and a desire to explore about your own life and this world. What you hope to find is another independent 'question mark' equally curious about life."
"You come together not to 'solve' each other's problems, nor to give each other definitive 'answers.' You come together to place two 'question marks' side by side and together explore this larger, unknown world together."
"In this process, you may inspire and support each other, making each other's journey of exploration go further and be more interesting. Your relationship is not a static endpoint seeking 'perfect match.' It is a dynamic, co-growing 'exploration alliance.'"
"Under this 'question mark' model, many of the problems that used to cause you anxiety will resolve themselves."
"You no longer need to play the 'perfect girlfriend,' because a 'question mark' is inherently imperfect and full of confusion. You can openly show your vulnerability and uncertainty, and this may precisely be the starting point for your mutual exploration."
"You no longer fear the other person being 'imperfect,' because what you seek is not a perfect 'answer.' The other person's flaws and differences may bring new perspectives and sparks to your exploration."
"There is no longer such a thing as 'failure' in your relationship. As long as you both gained growth and saw a wider world through this shared exploration, then no matter how far or short this journey went, it was valuable and 'successful.'"
The "question mark and question mark" model, like a breath of fresh wind, dispelled the thick fog in Sixteen's heart, composed of the fantasy of a "savior" and the fear of "abandonment." For the first time, she saw that intimate relationships did not have to be a transaction of "gain and loss" or a trial of "right and wrong." They could be an exciting adventure of "growth."
"So, going back to your original question," I steered the topic back to reality. "What would a 'brave sailor,' an explorer holding a 'question mark,' do now?"
She pondered for a moment, and for the first time, a relaxed smile appeared on her face, even carrying a hint of playfulness.
"I think... I might accept his next invitation," she said. "But I won't treat it as a 'job interview' that determines my future fate. I'll treat it as... a field investigation between question marks. My research topic will be: 'What kind of interesting person is this independent Mr. Question Mark?' And 'when my question mark is placed next to his, what kind of interesting sparks will collide?'"
"As for the result of the investigation..." she paused, a light shining in her eyes that I had never seen before -- a light called "confidence." "No matter the result, this 'question mark' of a person won't suffer any loss. I will only have gained a new and interesting piece of understanding about myself, and about the species called 'human beings,' from this investigation."
Hearing this, I knew that the iceberg called "emotions," which she had once regarded as the most dangerous forbidden zone, had begun to melt. She was not yet an experienced sailor. But she had mustered the courage to leave the island that had imprisoned her for more than twenty years. For the first time, she was pushing her small boat toward that vast ocean, full of unknowns yet also full of infinite possibility.
And this adventure in trust had only just begun. It would not only reshape her intimate relationships but profoundly change the way she interacted with the entire world. Because when we learn to trust the unknown, we truly learn to live.