Advice for the Unrequited Lover
The month of February brings the external, consumerist compulsion to indulge in the enigma of Valentine's Day, a periodic occurrence that obliges lovers to reaffirm their affections and reminds singles of the fairytale romantic ideal that so eludes them. In addition to this polarity there exists another category of person—the unrequited lover—whose regrettable love endures but is uncelebrated and for whom February 14th will only bring sorrow, feelings of anguish, inadequacy, resentment.
“Will you be my Valentine?” “No.” Here transpires a simple interaction that encapsulates the destroyed hopes of the rejected heart, feelings that some will encounter upon expressing their love to another where in one unfortunate day he who musters the courage now loses his confidence and joins the “unrequited lovers” club, a club where nobody wants to be a member. “Am I not good enough?” and other unanswered questions will preoccupy the mind, only for the rejectee to slink away dejected, now painfully self-aware.
There are apparently many types of love—four forms if we adopt C. S. Lewis' analysis (The Four Loves, 1960)—but it is Eros, the conditional, romantic sort, that we are urged to value on this day, much to the aversion of the bitter rejectee. Instead of celebrating bilateral love however, this article approaches romance from that frequently overlooked unilateral perspective, providing advice on how to deal with its tender reality when Cupid himself appears to have been mistaken—the swine.
Firstly, for the unrequited lover, Catullus can be a source of empathy, particularly on Valentine's Day where roses and cards torment with images of bilateral affection, forgetting those afflicted unilateral lovers whose dreams of a relationship with X are just that and will most probably never come into fruition:
“Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior."
“I hate and I love, why do I do this, perhaps you ask?
I do not know, but I feel it happening and I am tormented”
- Catullus 85
Despite its appeal, my besotted friend, avoid poetry as a consolation in your anguish. Instead of ostracising yourself in a sea of stems (having beheaded a dozen roses), seek inspiration in role models so as to survive this intolerable day. Johannes Brahms is a figure to consider whose unreciprocated love for Clara Schumann compelled his creativity as a composer, thus demonstrating that a desire to be loved by and to love another—which may at first seem an unbearable reality of human nature—can in fact be transformed into something positive.
Secondly, having taken inspiration from Brahms and now in recovery from this episode, you should approach love again (if you desire to do so) with a stoic realism, for despite the superficial image we are fed in romantic novels, love involves the taking of a risk and substantial emotional investment. The unrequited lover knows all too well that he must not romanticise love—a paradox in itself—so as to protect himself from the sting of lover's naivety, a syndrome that often reappears. May Cesare Pavese's haunting words serve as a preliminary caution: “No one ever kills himself for the love of a woman, but because love—any love—reveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.” Love's promise of fulfilment can, as the rejectee will be aware, prove empty and therefore it is important to love oneself, not to Narcissus' extent, but to care for ones' being prior to seeking another.
Take heed, unrequited lover, for it is true that happiness can be found in love, but one should not forget that it can also damage hearts beyond repair, revealing the bleakness of their insecurities, their feelings of inadequacy, their regrets: “'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” (Alfred, Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A.H.H., 1850), but for the rejectee one cannot always be too sure. Thus, instead of wallowing in self-pity, engross yourself in exploring interests, developing passions, and above all loving yourself, because the acquisition of a lover is notoriously uncertain whereas in life you can take comfort from the fact that you will always be a companion to yourself.
Article tags: | -ism |
Separation, 1896 by Edvard Munch. Courtesy of www.EdvardMunch.org.
Search by Tag
-
While it may be unbeknownst to some, references to Greta Thunberg's U.N. Climate Action Summit address as a "meltdo… https://t.co/5kEEFQELep
Related articles
