The Three Loves Theory
This theory says that over time we experience three types of relationships, each teaching us something vital.
- First, the first love — it’s like a fairy tale, all passion and excitement. It feels like forever, but it’s often more surface than soul. When it ends, the heartbreak is intense, but the recovery is swift. We remember the emotional whirlwind, but also the lesson that not all relationships are meant to last.
- Then comes the intense love, the roller-coaster that turns our world upside down. It’s messy, filled with insecurities, jealousy, and dramatic highs and lows. It’s the love that makes us question everything, yet through the heartbreak, we grow and discover our own strength. We realize that love isn’t perfect, but we learn how to evolve through the pain.
- Finally, unconditional love — the one that feels effortless, like coming home. It’s with someone who sees you for all your imperfections and loves you anyway. No games, just pure connection. It’s safe, secure, and inspiring, pushing you to be your best self. You work through challenges together, and it feels like eternity. True love exists, and it’s worth the wait.
Here we are, my friends, trying to figure out and quite frankly starting to believe that I have found love n.3.
But have I?
What’s on the other side of fear?
Over the years I have built this amazing capability to be liked and to be loved. To connect in depth pretty much with anyone I encounter on my path.
It’s an incredible skill for my job and for job interviews- I practically always get the job and then find myself wondering: did I really want it in the first place?
I can do the same in love.
Love N.1
I’ve loved full heartedly twice.
The first time it was brutal. I loved him with every single fiber of my being. The incredible thing is that it literally never hit me that we could break up. I had not even for an instant considered the possibility that we wouldn’t be together forever.
Crazy, right?
Especially since he was a drug addict, ego centric, selfish overall quite terrible person.
But man, I loved him. I truly tried my very best to help him, to stay through thick and thin, through ups and downs, through relapses and through periods of complete madness.
I almost died. In car accidents, in heart ache, in dangerous situations I, as a 19 year old virgin, had absolutely no capability of fully understanding.
He took my heart and he removed it.
Four years of a massive depression later, one where each day I wished I had died over night, one my mother truly helped me and challenged me to step out of, I moved to London.
I remember that instant as if it were today: I woke up at dawn, took a walk in Hyde Park and sat down alone at Serpentine cafe, at a table overlooking the water. I realized then that I was there because I was smart, capable and that I had landed this incredible job that was embarrassingly high paid thanks to my resilience and hard work. Despite the depression I had kept going, I had pushed myself, I had learned, and I could once again grasp a sip of air.
Actually no.
I was breathing normally.
Without even realizing it, my head was fully out. I was swimming, and I now knew that there was no current that could ever hold me down again.
London
I dated several men.
I was loved heart and soul by so many of them.
I have been fortunate, I’m quite sure in my life I have been loved beyond what a person typically experiences. Loved with butterflies, with crazy stories, with passion, with romance, with the true hope of a future together with so much as proposals. I’ve been loved fiercely.
Even by men I met for a few moments in time.
Reflecting back, I wonder if when I did love, I was able to truly be fully myself. They were passionate loves, fierce loves, yet they were never peaceful.
The few times it got quiet I remember wondering if I loved that person at all.
I wasn’t used to quiet. I wasn’t used to peace. I didn’t know what do do with it.
The second love
I never thought I could love again, yet I discovered I could.
The second time I loved I loved differently.
I loved a little bit more than the first time, because this time I knew what love was, I know who I was. I loved this man knowing how painful a broke heart could be, I chose to give put it in his hands knowing he could drop it or lose it.
I chose him exactly as I had the previous one. I saw him and within the space of an instant I knew it was the man of my life.
And then I chose him every single instant afterwards.
I approached him.
Nice to meet you, A.
Enchantee, O.
He insisted I stay for a drink. I said no. He asked again and I stayed. Four hours later we kissed. It was perfect. A perfect kiss on his big soft lips. It was like kissing a cloud.
I loved him in that instant and I understood I would never stop.
It was a disaster. It was the most painful, passionate, filling, beautiful thing I have ever done.
He was crazy. Most likely bipolar. Also with all sorts of issues that go far beyond a post.
It took me four years to say goodbye to him and four years to where I am at in healing today.
Has it been four?
I saw him again quite recently.
I didn’t love him as I had. I never thought this would be possible.
I missed loving him. Or maybe I just missed love.
The third love — or so I’m hoping
An endless number of heartbreaks later I met the current heartbreak.
He broke my heart differently, by never committing.
I self diagnosed him to be an avoidant yet that was not quite the case. Maybe I was.
He is solid.
He was clear: he was not ready for a relationship.
It wasn’t less painful, you know it just as well as I do if you have been reading my blog.
And here I am and here he is. He is ready.
I look over and he is holding out his hand.
Why are my feet not moving?
I’m standing on the sidewalk looking at him holding out his hand for me, waiting for me to grab it and walk off together in this new chapter in life.
He knows where we are headed. He knows where we will go.
I spent so long acting like a big girl who has it all together I don’t even know what to say.
My mind exploding in questions:
Where does he want to go?
Do I want to go there?
Will I be happier?
Will I be happy?
Will I feel trapped?
Will he leave me suddenly?
Will I want to suddenly leave?
Do I just want to be alone?
A part of me thinks he will walk away now, amidst my hesitation.
I wait.
I challenge.
I say things I don’t even think.
I try my best to scare him off. If he wants to leave now is the time.
He says put.
He knows I’m scared. He sees it despite me trying so hard to hide my vulnerabilities.
With elegance and kindness as he awaits for me to step off the sidewalk and join his hand.
He doesn’t come any closer. He knows I will.
I don’t know how he knows. I don’t even know if I will.
He is calm. He doesn’t get distracted, he challenges my distance bridging the gap of what I cannot describe myself.
I call my friend S.
She cried when I told her I went to see his family. Why was she crying? It wasn’t for joy. Was I missing something? Was it a bad idea to step off the sidewalk? Was there a way back? Was she trying to prevent me from walking?
Risk it, she said.
Go for it. She iterated.
We have to risk to see if it’s right.
My God.
No one else seemed to be feeling like I would be in much danger once they met him.
All I can think of is that I don’t want to live without my father. I love him so much.
Okay.
He’s not dying so this is not the thought I need to be having right now.
It’s time to walk there if I want to go, it’s just a couple of steps.
He can see me waiting, hesitating.
He’s asking me challenging questions. Why I don’t fully open up. Why I don’t rely on him.
He’s not demanding, he’s letting me know I can, that he will hold me.
He is letting me know he will repair the pieces of my heart he broke and that he will take care of all of my heart, forever.
I can feel it.
He is actually here. Exactly where I had wanted him to be for so long.
I look around.
Am I sure?
To be honest, I asked for this, for exactly this.
Stable, intelligent, truly there, a beautiful human being. Exceptional. Exceptional for me.
I can take a step.
I don’t have to lose myself.
As I sit here, in a cafe in the City ready to step into my next client session I can feel it.
I want to take that step.
I’m scared.
I think I will.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Warren on Unsplash
