Mary Wollstonecraft once wrote, “A man, or woman, of sentiment, has seldom much sense.” It is a bit harsh, but I think she’s on to something. While I empathize with the intensity of being caught up in your own feelings toward an individual, it is sobering to watch someone you care about fall into these same patterns. Seeing the world of romance through an objective pair of eyes, maybe, shifts one’s perspective. As someone who finds themselves as the perpetual third wheel, this helicopter perspective is where I live: always circling above. And what’s worse, this exact perspective makes people come to me for advice.
I find it fascinating that this continues to happen. Nothing, and I mean nothing about the trials and tribulations of my own dating experience makes me any semblance ready to bestow any type of wisdom upon advice seekers, yet I am treated as an oracle. No partner. Nary a situationship (but really, thank goodness). Not even a life-spicing crush to keep me trudging on and opting for something to wear other than sweats. Addendum on that last comment: sometimes they’re life-spicing, but usually they’re all-consuming.
That being said, I have experienced limerence myself. Psychology Today calls this an “involuntary obsession with another person.” That’s a polite way of describing the descent into utter mental chaos after 2.5 seconds of prolonged eye-contact. But that’s the thing. It’s not messy, but pointed and specific. When you’re in this position, you analyze everything. You become a master investigator. And much worse, you tend to get wires crossed and meanings obscured. And I wonder, for some people at least, if this transcends into actual relationships.
That begs the question: are those who are in love (or in relationships, at least) truly unable to see the truth of what’s in front of them?
When you’re unattached, you have a kind of clarity. You aren’t anxiously waiting for that text back (what could he possibly be doing right now?), overthinking an emoji or lack thereof because you want to come across as playful but not immature, or trying your best to rationalize irrational behavior. You’re free from this emotional prison! We should celebrate this…right? It’s easier to give advice when it isn’t your own heart on the line.
When you’re inside the experience, trying to work it all out, it’s challenging. When you find yourself above, circling, you notice things from a different perspective that others may miss. It isn’t about being wiser, per se (definitely not for me). It’s about being less tangled up.
Of course, this role has its limits. Every now and then someone will jokingly ask why I don’t take my own advice. I usually tell them that it is hard to see your own patterns while you’re in them. Or that I’ve been busy. Or that I simply prefer helping other people sort through their love lives rather than dealing with my own.
For now, I’ve settled into my niche. I’m perched high above, ready to sprinkle advice atop those who inquire. Strangely enough, I really don’t mind. It’s an experience in itself, even if it’s one step away from the real thing.