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Dear Roe,
I’m stuck in a rut. I’ve had three relationships, the first two of which I ended based on gut feelings that I wasn’t in love (which I remain comfortable with). The third relationship was the shortest of the three, and I fell hard and fast before the other person ended it abruptly. I’ve really struggled to move on from it, always clinging to the hope that because they ended it so suddenly, because the break-up was amicable (a front on my part to make it less awkward for them), and because we’re in touch sporadically (but platonically) on social media, that we might have a future.
My friends are very supportive but keep suggesting that I should enjoy a few casual flings to help get over it. I’m not that type of person though and find it (a) hard to have casual relationships, and (b) difficult to not compare any potential partner to the partner who ended things with me.
I’ve acknowledged to myself and others that I was in love with them, and I had an experience as a teenager of unrequited love that took me the better part of a decade to get over. I’ve recently discovered that my ex is in a new relationship, and I found myself in the same room as their new partner soon afterwards. I bolted out of embarrassment and fear that my former partner would arrive. I’d really appreciate your advice on how to park my feelings so that I can move on and not waste more time grieving for a relationship that will probably never reignite.
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I can give you my opinion of what’s going on here based on your letter, but as this seems to be an ongoing, repeating and distressing pattern for you, it’s vital that you find a therapist who will help you work through this. You’re in a pattern and you know you want something to change, which is the first step. Even if you’ve never tried therapy before or have some trepidation around it, remind yourself that you want and deserve to be happy and evolve, and should use all tools and support available to you to do so.
Here’s what I think is going on: you are terrified of vulnerability, terrified of love, terrified of the possibility of being truly with someone. You value love and romance and relationships deeply, but you are also terrified that their power will ruin you. You’re scared of being in a fully committed relationship, of seeing someone fully, of being truly seen yourself, because you don’t believe you are worthy of real love, so you believe that really falling for someone could only lead to disaster.
This is why you value short whirlwind romances over longer relationships; why you keep falling for and then obsessing over unavailable people (your unrequited love, your ex); and why you’re using your previous experiences as an excuse to not date, to not try again. As long as you are holding on to the idea of a person, rather than the reality; as long as you keep obsessing over people you can’t have; as long as you remain cynical about the idea of meeting new people, then you get to stay safe. You get to not try again. You get to take your ideas of unrequited love and the perfect One That Got Away fantasy, and hold them in front of you like an armour preventing anyone else from getting close, preventing anyone else from seeing you clearly, preventing your tender little heart from being exposed and vulnerable, ever again.
Regular readers of the column know that I don’t believe in unrequited love. Unrequited crushes? Absolutely. Unrequited obsessions? Sure. But romantic love is a two-way street. It requires at least an openness from the other person of loving you, too; it requires seeing each other clearly and intimately, in a way you simply can’t do from a distance. When we refer to “unrequited love”, what we’re most commonly talking about is one person idealising and romanticising another person, creating a perfect fantasy image of them in their head and holding on to it. The distance in this equation isn’t the obstacle – it’s actually necessary to maintain the illusion.
Unrequited love feels like it’s about romance, but it’s actually about control. As long as you pine for this person from a distance, you can keep them as a perfect fantasy in your head. As long as you obsess over how perfect they are, you never have to try with anyone else who could actually offer you something real. As long as you live in an imaginary relationship, you’ll never have to confront your own flaws, fears and foibles and how they manifest in the real world. Unrequited love means that your dream partner remains perfect – and so do you.
You like the control of the fantasy. And so far in your romantic life, you haven’t given yourself or other people the chance to not be perfect. That’s why, as your two longer relationships progressed, you immediately left, because the longer you stayed, the more you started to see their flaws, and yours. As time went on, the fantasy began to burst as reality started to sneak in, and you couldn’t see reality and love coexisting. That’s why, incidentally, the ex you are now obsessing over was from your shortest relationship – you were still enjoying the romanticised, idealised, honeymoon version of them when they ended things, giving you even more to obsess over.
You are self-sabotaging. Self-sabotage allows you to predict what is going to happen, which gives you an illusion of control
I think the idea of dating also scares you because, unlike obsessing over someone you know a bit, dating is all about the unknown. Casual dating is unpredictable – you don’t know if you’ll click, if they’ll like you, if it will result in rejection, in a fling, in real love – the possibilities are endless, and I think that scares you because some of those possibilities include the chance that you’ll get hurt.
But real love, real relationships, real intimacy, also includes the chance that you’ll get hurt. And if you want to break out of your pattern and really be with someone, you’re going to have to surrender control, embrace that fact, and keep going anyway.
You are self-sabotaging. Self-sabotage allows you to predict what is going to happen, which gives you an illusion of control. You are using fantasy, obsession and cynicism as your weapons of choice, using them to repeatedly pursue unavailable people, because you understand the “failure” of pining for someone. That feels familiar. What you can’t cope with is the unknown variables of going after someone available, something mutual, a real, committed, flaws-and-all kind of love. Even though the outcome could be success, the unpredictability of the journey terrifies you. And that’s what you need to work on.
[ My long-term boyfriend doesn’t want children but I’m realising I do – what now? ]
A therapist will help you with strategies to stop your ruminating, and give you ways to reframe your thinking. They can also work on your anxiety and self-esteem so that you feel more confident moving through the world, more open to romance, and more open to the possibility that you are worthy of love. Seeing a therapist will also help you learn how to surrender control and embrace some of the unpredictability of love, and life. Trust me, doing the work will be worth it. Love is about vulnerability, trust, adventure and possibility. It’s not about control. That’s what makes it magic.