On Building Trust — The Greatest Misfortune Is Not to Be Unloved, But Not to Love

When I mention to someone that I’ve interviewed Rok Snežič, for a moment it seems as though they’re about to call security to have me thrown out of the building and slap me with a restraining order. “Rok never laid a finger on me. Our relationship was strictly professional,” I say, as part of a defense mechanism to try and prevent the worst. “I have no doubt that you could find out about all the relationships I’ve ever had if you wanted to—I’m not so deluded as to imagine that you couldn’t track all of them down. To the ends of the earth. Right down to the man I once touched in a club when I was fourteen.” My interlocutor looks at me for a while and then says, “I always investigate everyone I start to associate with. Everyone I let into my life. But I’ve never had anyone make inquiries about you. There’s something about you that makes me think you will never turn against me. I get the impression that you know so clearly what you want that you won’t waste your time trying to harm me…”

If I wanted to harm you, I think to myself, I know where I would end up. But all I say is: “Thank you. People who trust you spontaneously are the hardest ones to betray.” Some of my interviewees, even now, will not permit me to address them familiarly. They say that I may have met some conditions, but there are still many I haven’t met. That I haven’t paid my dues and still stubbornly refuse to… I think it’s really hard to trust anyone in this world. Time is the best test of a relationship. Personally, I don’t believe promises that the public will never find out about something… These are empty words. I believe you should never allow yourself to be in a situation where you are dependent on someone else’s word. You have to protect yourself by other means. But—as the president of the Chamber of Commerce and Industry of Slovenia and I agreed during our conversation—trusting people and giving them room to disappoint you requires a particular kind of courage. Trust them once, twice, three times, and then cut them off, without compromise. We also agreed that such naïve optimists live more easily and more happily than the realistically pessimistic cynics of this world, who are safe from disappointment… But a life without waves is not life. And people without pain are not people, as one of my interviewees says.

“A single affair will ruin your career. No one will take you seriously,” an acquaintance warns me. My best friend waves her hand dismissively. “It might even increase your popularity. If you slept with everyone you interview—yes, that might cast a poor light on your professionalism. But a little scandal wouldn’t do any harm. Maybe even the opposite. We’re talking hypothetically, of course. I know that your choices are very carefully weighed and very rare. But, Minka, people are people. Men attract women. And vice versa. It’s the law of the universe. Naturally, you have to be careful how you end things. And what impression you leave on people. Whether there’s a story there or not. One word can destroy or create a relationship. Open or close a door. You have to open many doors in life. You never know when one of them will save your life, hide you from ruin, help you realize a dream…”

The summer sun shines on the terrace at Cubo, where morning has turned into evening since we arrived, and I’m grateful for it. For the voice of reason and cold logic in the chaotic world that we call life. I’m grateful to have someone who, when my ambitions become too heavy for me, will come with me to the McDonald’s drive-through at ten in the evening and then sit with me in the car park of the Aleja shopping center until the small hours, discussing how tomorrow—really tomorrow!—we’re going to take over the world and create our million-dollar stories.

For someone with whom I can laugh until I cry in closed beauty salons even as the world collapses around me. For someone who holds a mirror to me and tells me to my face when I stray from my path. And at the same time feels and celebrates my successes as their own. I think there are few women or friends who love you sincerely in this world. You don’t always find them even among blood relatives. And every relationship involving trust is, at least for the first decades, a lottery that can end very badly. At the same time, though, it’s a lottery that can make a life that’s worth living.

My sister has always sought out safe people in her life. People who won’t betray her. I’ve always had just one criterion when it comes to female friends: they have to be just as ambitious, just as hungry for success, just as hungry to build their own personal myth and their own lasting legacy as I am. And they must have the ability to see someone else’s victory as their own and love another person more than they love themselves. I’ve heard that only people who were loved enough long ago can do this. And now they are able to unselfishly give this love to others. Because they understand the truth of Albert Camus’s words: that the greatest misfortune is not to be unloved, but not to love.

“The only relationships that have a future are relationships where the woman loves more.” Or so one of my interviewees said to me one sweltering afternoon in Ljubljana. Perhaps in our context, these words are aimed at guiding the other person toward a specific way of thinking, but I can see the point. “I agree. Someone once told me that he sees that I can’t be with someone unless I truly admire them. We women need that—men who can be like gods to us. We hunger for it. A woman can find meaning in sacrifice, in unconditional love. There are no men like this, and this is the tragedy of our civilization. So smart women find something else to love. The summer sun. Their own personal myth. Their mission. Their projects. Their visions. And themselves. In some cases, I imagine, their children…”

This article takes readers on a journey of introspection and self-discovery, examining the complexities of trust, love, and relationships. Through personal anecdotes and reflective conversations, it highlights the importance of loving something or someone deeply and the courage it takes to trust others. The narrative blends contemplation with storytelling, inviting readers to reflect on their own experiences and values.