OF LIFE? –
Nov. 29, 2023 – When I was in my mid-twenties, I sat myself in the consulting room of a steely therapist, who told me that I was doing everything wrong when it came to love. For me, she said, love was all about the intoxicating highs and the soul-destroying lows; a dysfunctional cycle of attraction and distancing.
I was left ashen-faced. Since when had my love life descended into a kind of school lesson, complete with a whiteboard and diagrams? But this wasn’t a conversation about giggly kinds of romantic infatuation. Rather, I was being told about my love addiction. I apparently couldn’t control it – romance controlled me. I didn’t know what to think. Me? A love addict? It sounded more like a fragrance. But could it have been true? Was love addiction the reason I felt perpetually trapped in my own Sex and the Citystoryline?
I had told her that whenever one of my relationships comes to an end, I find the emotional pain unbearable. I am crushed. Yet the craving and obsession for my ex-partner continues day in and day out. As the days turn to months, I’m plagued by regret, and memories of good times together. Will we get back together again? Can I make him jealous? If only I’d been more accepting of his reclusive nature. If only I’d loved Manchester United. Would we still be together if I got on better with his mother? Or not complained about his workaholism?
