Limerance is not a topic most people discuss. In fact, most people do not even know what limerance is. I didn’t, until I read Dorothy Tennov’s Love and Limerance. The research to come from the book is not only mind-blowing, it turns the notion of romantic attachments on its head. The “high” that people experience when they meet a new potential lover is seemingly universal. It is what the movies and the songs are about. It is what people identify with. But that feeling is not what we think it is, at least it is not if we believe Tennov’s thesis.
Limerance, for Tennov, is that feeling of falling in love, but it is also extreme, obsessive, and unforgiving. It prompts people to spend much of their time daydreaming about the “limerant object,” neglecting what passes for normal life. And interestingly, not everyone experiences limerance. Ever talk to one of your friends who met the man of her dreams but seems rather lukewarm about it? She is happy–not jealous, not obsessed, not pulling her hair out of her head half the time–and she talks about the future in a matter of fact way. She says she is in love, but you wonder why it is that your romantic liaisons are not quite so easy.
If you feel love to the depths and breadths and heights of your soul, then you just might be prone to limerance. If you are a limerant, you will be more likely to be at one extreme or the other during a good limerant run. If you feel that your love could potentially be reciprocated, you will be on top of the world, but if you feel that the limerant object or LO will never return your love, you will feel devastation. In such a scenario, you are either hopeful and optimistic, or your hopeless romanticism threatens to push you over the edge.
But aren’t we all in this culture just a little bit limerant? I mean, with Valentine’s Day a holiday, don’t we push this romanticism too far? We watch tearful movies, thrive on Shakespearean drama where the only rational solution is a murder-suicide, and then we wonder why it is that we can’t get our relationships right. Maybe limerance is just a little bit selfish, a little bit toxic, and a little bit like a chemical soup of hormones and firing synapses. But we do it anyway. We indulge in it because it feels so good when we are on the upside of the roller coaster.
But is limerance love, really? Or is it a selfish indulgence, or even a neurosis? Limerance, for all intents and purposes, is sort of the opposite of unconditional love. There are so many conditions that must be right for the romantic vision to materialize, and perfection is a must. It sounds so unrealistic, so untenable, so desperate. Yet, it would be boring to just have a relationship without the heartache, so I say cheers to the limerant in all of us! Without romance and those highs and lows, there would hardly be any art, or literature, or music. Without true love, where would we get our inspiration? And without it, life wouldn’t be nearly as fun.
Romantic love is worth living for and fighting for. So take heart if you are suffering on Valentine’s Day. You are probably among the majority of people who feel the pain. But you can turn your pain into a painting or a novel or just wallow in self-pity. Or you can buy yourself roses and appreciate their beauty, and inhale their fragrant gifts. They will die soon anyway, and you know loss well. But there is always the chocolate. There is always that. And then, finally, after you have been tortured enough for one otherwise ordinary winter’s day, there is February 15th.
