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    Surviving Unrequited Love

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    By Tom Moon, MFT

    Q: I regularly see a man in a gay so­cial organization to which we both belong, and he pushes all my buttons. He is friendly to me, which makes him all the more attractive, but it’s clear that he has an active social and sexual life in which there is no place for me, apart from our common or­ganization. Obviously, I’m not the only person who sees how remark­able he is. It is so painful to want him so badly and to see him all the time, knowing I can never have him. Nei­ther of us is likely to leave the organi­zation any time soon, so I’m going to have to live with my predicament for the foreseeable future. Is there any­thing more serious here than frustra­tion at not having the relationship with him that I want? I’m sure I will get over this painful situation even­tually, but would definitely appre­ciate your insight on the subject to hasten my recovery.

    A: I doubt if there is anyone read­ing this who hasn’t experienced what you’re going through. It’s always painful to long for what we can’t have, but unrequited romantic love is especially painful. And to have regular contact with the man you love and see that his eyes don’t light up for you the way yours do for him, is a form of acute suffering. But the fact that it’s painful doesn’t in and of itself make it a problem. It may just be one of those situations in life which must be endured, and for which there is no cure except time.

    One practice that can mitigate the suffering in the meantime is some­thing I learned from Tibetan Bud­dhism. In this practice, you reflect on all the people in the world who are currently experiencing the same kind of difficulty you’re living with, whether it’s an illness, a loss, or a disappointment, such as unrequited love. Then form the resolution to use your own pain as a springboard to become more compassionate to­ward all those who are in situations similar to yours. After you’ve done that, imagine yourself sending waves of compassion and loving kindness to every one of them. This exercise may sound hokey, but it is surpris­ingly powerful. I’ve used it myself on a number of occasions, and I find it a great antidote to self-pity. I also find it a useful way of using my suffer­ing to connect me with others, rather than to feel separated from them.

    But your question, “Is there anything more serious here than frustration at not having the relationship with him that I want?” is a good one, because unrequited love is one of those situa­tions that is full of emotional pitfalls for many people. When it comes to unrequited love, it’s very common for the mind to work overtime in generating self-denigrating ideas about why it’s happening. There must be something wrong with me. Maybe it’s that I’m not good look­ing enough, or interesting enough, or lovable enough. Maybe I’m just not the sort of person who ever gets what he wants. Maybe I’m just a loser. I shouldn’t be hurting so much about this. If I were a more secure human being, I wouldn’t let things like this get to me. And so on and on.

    Here’s an extreme example, which shows how destructive this kind of thinking can be: I know a man who fell deeply in love with a dorm mate in his freshman year of college. The other guy was mildly friendly, but not otherwise interested. Now—twenty years later—this man continues on an almost daily basis to pine away for the love that never was. Why does he do this to himself? Briefly, the an­swer is that, having been abandoned in early childhood by his drug ad­dicted father, he learned to believe that he isn’t the sort of person who can be loved by any man. He took his first adult disappointment in love as confirmation of that grim belief. His problem wasn’t unrequited love, but what his mind did with it.

    So examine what your mind is tell­ing you about this situation and don’t believe everything it may be saying. Your recovery from this disappoint­ment will be a lot faster if you can be alert and skeptical about any pessi­mistic or self-denigrating interpreta­tions you may be assigning to your situation.

    Tom Moon is a psychotherapist in San Francisco. To learn more, please visit his website at tommoon.net