There’s a movie - I could google it if could be bothered - where a man pretends to be a woman’s husband and she has to ask him some questions to find out if he really knows her.
I don’t know why that scene stuck in my head many years ago, but it did. The things that make us really intimate, the things that mean we know each other deeply are not the obvious things. They’re not trivia. Not sexual. It’s not something you can guess or research.
All the people who have loved me would be able to tell you that I can’t tie my shoelaces. No-one who hasn’t loved me would know that - until I write this. I tie my shoelaces in a ridiculous way that doesn’t make any sense. And even when I tried to learn to do it correctly, I reverted back to the other way - a knot that doesn’t untie itself. There probably aren’t more than four or five people who know that.
There are a lot of things like that. We’ve loved and been loved, and it leaves a trace.