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The Psychology of Intimate Relationships: What Actually Makes Us Feel Close?

Writer: Austin Attaway
Austin Attaway
Sep 23
6 min read

An Ego/Id episode companion with Dr. Harry Reis — exploring what actually makes us feel close, why chemistry can mislead us, and what relationship science says about building intimacy.

I sat down with Dr. Harry Reis, Dean’s Professor in Arts, Sciences & Engineering at the University of Rochester, because intimate relationships are one of those things almost all of us care about deeply but very few of us are ever actually taught how to understand.


We spend a lot of time wondering whether the chemistry is right, whether someone is our “type,” whether conflict means something is wrong, or whether a good relationship should just feel easy. I wanted to take those assumptions and put them up against what relationship science actually tells us.


What I appreciated most about the conversation is that Harry kept bringing us back to something much more basic than finding a perfect person: how we make one another feel understood, appreciated, and cared for in everyday life.


An older couple laughing together outdoors.

Connection often looks ordinary. Photo: Rhoda Baer / National Cancer Institute, public domain via Wikimedia Commons.


Intimacy is bigger than romance


One of the first ideas that stuck with me was Harry’s definition of intimacy. We tend to reserve the word for romantic relationships, but relationship science is broader than that. Intimacy is the experience of feeling understood, appreciated, and cared for by another person.


That can be a spouse or romantic partner, but it can also be a best friend, a sibling, a roommate, or another person you genuinely trust. In other words, a meaningful intimate life does not require fitting one specific relationship template.


I think that distinction matters, especially when so much cultural messaging treats romantic partnership as the only “complete” version of connection. The more useful question may be: do I have people in my life with whom I can actually be known?


That broader view lines up with a large body of research showing that strong social relationships are associated with health and longevity. A major meta-analysis across 148 studies found that stronger social relationships were associated with better survival outcomes over time (Holt-Lunstad, Smith, & Layton, 2010).


You can be loved and still not feel loved


This was probably my favorite part of the discussion. Harry’s work on perceived partner responsiveness helps explain something that is easy to experience but hard to name: somebody can genuinely care about you and still fail to make you feel cared for.


Responsiveness is what the other person actually does. Do they try to understand you? Do they show appreciation? Are they there for you when it matters? Perceived responsiveness is whether those things actually register on your side of the relationship.


That gap is important. We can have good intentions and communicate them poorly. We can also have trouble receiving love or care even when it is being offered. Relationships are not just about what we feel internally; they are also about whether we successfully communicate those feelings in a way the other person can recognize.


Classic work testing the interpersonal process model of intimacy found that self-disclosure and perceived partner responsiveness both contribute to experiences of closeness in everyday interactions (Laurenceau, Barrett, & Pietromonaco, 1998).


Closeness requires letting yourself be known


We also spent time on self-disclosure, which sounds clinical until you think about what it really means. If I want another person to appreciate me for who I actually am, they eventually have to know something real about me — what I care about, what I fear, what I am proud of, and where I am vulnerable.


Harry used the metaphor of peeling an onion. Intimacy tends to develop gradually. You share something, the other person responds, and you learn whether it feels safe to go a little deeper.


That is different from immediately unloading everything onto someone. Healthy self-disclosure tends to be reciprocal. I open up, you respond; at some point you open up, and I respond. Over time, we both get a clearer sense that the relationship can hold more of who we actually are.


Chemistry matters — but it is not a crystal ball


I especially wanted to ask Harry about chemistry because it is one of those words we all use even though it can be surprisingly difficult to define.


His description was intuitive: chemistry is that sense that somebody just gets you. The conversation moves quickly, the back-and-forth feels easy, attention is naturally focused, and you feel like you are on the same wavelength.


But chemistry is not the same thing as compatibility. You can have enormous chemistry with someone and later discover that your lives, values, goals, or conflict styles simply do not fit together very well. The reverse can happen too: some relationships begin without fireworks and become deeply meaningful as the connection develops.


So I came away thinking about chemistry as useful information, but not a verdict. The better question is what happens after the spark.


Conflict is inevitable. The damage is not.


Another myth I wanted to push on was the idea that conflict is a sign that something is fundamentally wrong. Harry’s answer was pretty clear: conflict is inevitable when two people become interdependent.


The more important issue is what happens during and after the disagreement. Can we argue without creating a second layer of injury through contempt, humiliation, hostility, or emotional withdrawal? Can we repair? Can we eventually move forward?


That changes the goal. A healthy relationship is not one where nobody ever disagrees. It is one where disagreement does not automatically threaten the relationship itself.


Two friends laughing together indoors.

Intimacy is not limited to romantic relationships. Photo: Unsplash.


The relationship skill I probably underestimate most: listening


When I asked Harry whether decades of relationship research had changed how he shows up in his own relationships, his first answer was listening. That answer stuck with me.


Most of us are probably not listening as much as we think we are. Part of our attention is on the other person, while another part is already preparing our response, thinking about what else we need to do, or deciding whether we agree.


Really listening means helping the other person feel understood. Instead of only saying, “That makes sense,” it might mean asking, “That sounds like it really affected you — what happened after that?” It keeps the focus on the speaker long enough for them to go deeper.


That sounds simple. In practice, it is a skill.


A quick relationship check


After the conversation, I found myself thinking about a few questions that apply to romantic relationships, friendships, and family relationships alike. They are not a psychological test — just useful prompts.


Do I feel understood here? Not agreed with all the time, but accurately seen.


Can I say something meaningful without feeling punished for it? Vulnerability needs some sense of safety.


How do we do ordinary life together? Not the vacations and milestone moments — the dinners, errands, quiet evenings, and small frustrations.


When conflict happens, do we create more hurt or move toward repair? The disagreement may matter less than what we do with it.


The bigger takeaway


Near the end of the episode, Harry made a point that I think is easy to agree with and surprisingly easy to ignore: relationships often become the last thing we attend to after work, email, errands, bills, and everything else competing for our attention.


Relationship science cannot guarantee that every friendship, partnership, or family bond will last. People change. Some relationships end. But meaningful connection is not a bonus feature around the edges of life.


It is one of the main things that makes life feel meaningful in the first place.


My own takeaway from sitting down with Harry was that intimacy is simultaneously simpler and more difficult than we sometimes make it. We spend so much time thinking about finding the right person, having enough chemistry, or checking the right boxes. The science keeps pulling us back toward the smaller moments: paying attention, opening up, responding well, repairing conflict, and making another person feel known.


Keep the conversation going


You can hear the full conversation with Dr. Harry Reis on Ego/Id: The Psychology of Everything wherever you listen to podcasts, and follow @ego.over.id on Instagram for more psychology you can bring into everyday life.


One question I would leave you with: who in your life makes you feel genuinely understood — and what do they do that creates that feeling?


Research and further reading


These sources provide additional research context for the themes discussed in the episode. This article is an editorial companion, not a verbatim transcript.


Laurenceau, J.-P., Barrett, L. F., & Pietromonaco, P. R. (1998). Intimacy as an interpersonal process: The importance of self-disclosure, partner disclosure, and perceived partner responsiveness in interpersonal exchanges. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 74(5), 1238–1251.


Holt-Lunstad, J., Smith, T. B., & Layton, J. B. (2010). Social relationships and mortality risk: A meta-analytic review. PLOS Medicine, 7(7), e1000316.

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