More about loving too much

I think that Robin Norwood puts it very elegantly when she says, “Loving too much”. Most of us gals call it, “totally fucking obsessed” or “can’t get him out of my head”. When you’re obsessed with a man, it’s a reminiscent hark back to our primary school days where we would doodle our first name and their surname all over our maths homework.

We probably don’t doodle our joined names as much anymore; nowadays we are more likely to stalk them on Facebook, or drive past their place to see what cars are parked outside.

I’ve done my share of these, don’t you worry. There was this man I was “totally fucking obsessed” over, this is probably a decade ago now, and even though we casually caught up every now and then, I know it meant more to me than it did to him.

I also knew he was on RSVP because he made no secret of it. So, I did what I thought was the only obvious thing at the time, and created a fake RSVP account, complete with some random girl pic I dragged off an obscure website, and started sending him messages.

You see, I wanted to see what he was like, how he acted, what he said, to other girls. For what purpose? I don’t know. Could I confront him on it? Of course not. I’d look like a whack-a-doo. All I thought was that, if he was on RSVP emailing me posing as a fake girl, he wasn’t out in the wide world having sex with girls who weren’t me.

Looking back, I can’t believe I did that. As with many things when we look back – spiral perms, bubble skirts, Leif Garrett.

The simple truth is that, if I wanted more from him than he was prepared to give, then there are two options. Accept without complaint or question the rules of our relationship. Or get out.

There’s nothing wrong with non-exclusivity in sexual relationships, as long as it is agreeable to both parties. If one person is loving too much, ergo getting hurt, it is up to that person to get out of the relationship.

Tell me what you think:

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