Is it Love or Limerence ?

It’s late at night, and we are obsessed with this one magical person. Again.

A part of us knows this person isn’t interested—or at least, not to the extent that we are. But it may change, right? If we find the right words, if we lose the weight, if we impress them with our witty intelligence and unending love?

Anyway, we cannot help ourselves. We answer the deep, itchy call within and open Instagram or Facebook just to get a glimpse. A fix.

And then—whoosh—we dive headfirst into a long, elaborate fantasy where they finally love us madly. There is pure bliss. We feel very, very good. Progressively, though, doubt sinks in: who was that person next to them in those Facebook pics? Anxiety floods us like a punch in the gut. Maybe it’s better to return to our fantasy world. Let’s do that.

To be fair, our rational mind knows somewhere that this makes no sense, yet we are powerless to stop the loop.

Welcome to the world of Limerence.

What is Limerence?

The term was coined by the psychologist Dorothy Tennov in 1979. While it isn’t an official mental health diagnosis and there isn’t a vast amount of research on it (although awareness is definitely building), in practice psychotherapists see it often. Patients bring it into the room with a heavy layer of shame, feeling “creepy” or “weak”.

In fact, it may be the reason why we come to see a psychologist to start with: we are lost in confusion and distress, and at a certain point, we recognize we need help.

Limerence is an involuntary, all-consuming state of mind. It is defined by an obsessive preoccupation with securing emotional reciprocation from a “Limerent Object” or LO. (Yes, I know calling a person an “object” may seem bizarre or sacrilegious, especially if we find this person extraordinary. But in shrinks’ vocabulary, it simply means we are not talking about a real person here, but rather the image of that person in our mind.)

According to research and experience, limerence is characterized by:

• Obsessive and intrusive thoughts: The person becomes the sun around which our entire mental world orbits. Nothing else matters. We may work, eat, and go out, but our minds (and hearts) are elsewhere. We may even struggle to function because we are addicted to a mix of fantasies, plans to seduce our LO, or analysis of their every move. Lost in obsession, we don’t want to be distracted by real life.
• An intense emotional rollercoaster: We oscillate between ecstasy and amazing energy (when we perceive a hint of interest) and deep despair (at any sign of rejection). The intensity is incredibly high, especially for someone we aren’t actually involved with.
• The fuel of uncertainty: This is the “driving force.” The less sure we are of their feelings, the harder our brain works to solve the puzzle. Doubt doesn’t stop limerence; it fuels the rumination. Worse still, even when we adequately perceive disinterest, we might bounce back by developing “imagined reciprocation”—long, vivid fantasies used as a temporary drug to sustain our emotional needs.
• A loss of control: Tennov noted that limerence “defies self-control.” It can take over our life, leading us to neglect ourselves, our relationships, and our jobs. In that respect, it looks a hell of a lot like an addiction—and maybe it is.

Love vs. Limerence

We may ask, “Isn’t this just what being in love feels like?” Indeed, our Western culture does us a disservice by glamorizing limerence in films, songs, and books (though, to be fair, where would cinema and music be without it?).

But the answer is no. Love and limerence are different animals.

Love is gradual. Love starts with attraction, but has built-in safety checks: Are they interested? Are they available? Mentally healthy? Can we count on them? Are our values aligned? Do we actually like their personality? Love seeks confirmation that the person is suitable for us before we invest our whole heart.

I remember a friend telling me about his “perfect girlfriend.” They were in love, but alas, she lived in another country. He eventually ended it, sharing sadly, “You end up wishing your life away, in between moments together; it’s not how I want to live my life, and it’s not how I want her to live hers.”

That is the perfect example of non-limerence. He took his needs seriously. He could see the reality of the situation and walk away because the “suitability” wasn’t there.

I was stunned. At the time, I could not for the life of me imagine doing that. I would have doubled down. With my tendency for limerence, I would have ignored the distance and the absence, filling the gaps with fantasies. Limerence doesn’t care about compatibility; it only cares about reciprocity. It’s the “fix” of being wanted that matters, not the person’s actual presence.

A few years later, another relationship brought the point home: I was obsessed with a guy with whom I had an “on-again, off-again” dynamic. It had all the hallmarks: the obsession, the rollercoaster, the loss of control. Suddenly, while heating a pasta dinner, I realized something was awfully wrong: I was obsessed with him, but I actually did not like the guy. I perceived him quite accurately as a handsome, obnoxious jerk. I disliked the time we spent together. I wanted him to reciprocate, but I did not want him. (I went back to therapy, again).

Do we all experience limerence ?

Interestingly, some people never experience limerence. They find love and are attracted just fine, but their involvement always maintains a thread of reason. Small gestures of rejection or incompatibility are enough for them to say, “Okay, this isn’t for me,” and walk away without being consumed. They look at us mere mortals thinking we are slightly deranged.

It’s also possible to experience both, with different people. My relationship with my husband didn’t start with limerence; the attraction grew from a solid friendship. On the other hand, my limerent episodes never led to a real relationship, to the extent that as soon as I perceived limerence, I knew the relationship was doomed.

For many, it is possible to experience both Limerence and love with the same person, just not at the same time. Love starts with a spark of the familiar all consuming limerence. (As one colleague hilariously put it: it’s fortunate we aren’t “in love” all the time, or nothing would ever get done, apart from lovemaking and art.)

From this start, the trajectory usually goes like this:

1. The Limerent Phase: The usual Attraction/Obsession.
2. The Fork in the Road: If our LO reciprocates, the uncertainty fades. Because the “mystery” is gone, the limerence fades too. This is the moment of truth. We either feel disappointment and leave (Is that all there is? Who lied to me?), or we transition into Real Love.

Real Love is learning to know and love the real, flawed person sitting across from us (yes, the one leaving hair in the shower and being grumpy in the morning), rather than the magical fantasy we created in our heads. That’s when we have the opportunity to build real intimacy.

Is Limerence a Problem?

Not necessarily. It depends on our pattern—whether we see a repetitive, damaging scenario in our lives.

If right now you are ruminating endlessly, interpreting every minute detail of a text for “signs,” and oscillating between ecstasy and despair—yes, you are under the spell of limerence.

But limerence can be the “rocket fuel” that starts a stable relationship, provided you can negotiate the “crash” when the fantasy meets the real person. However, if you find yourself in an endless cycle of unrequited limerence, or if you constantly leave relationships the moment the “magic” fades only to jump into a new obsession, that is a pattern worth looking at, ideally with skilled help. If you are reading this, you probably have reached the point of being tired of it anyway.

The first step out of the prison is simply naming the bars. It’s not “destiny.” It’s not “the one” or “this time I’m sure it’s the one” (even if it sure feels like it).

It’s limerence.

PS: if your specific problem is obsessing about people you barely know, you can find a dedicated article here.