When I ran across a brief survey as to how many times people had been in love, I was surprised at the results. Three or four times was the most common finding, with two times taking second place. So how many times should we fall in love? How many times might we consider “normal?”
This little survey in The Times, conducted among online readers and by no means representative, got me to thinking… and counting… and concluding that “normal” has nothing to do with it.
I believe we love based on nature, on conditioning, on opportunity, on need; if we’re fortunate, as we mature, we arrive at a degree of affection and of give-and-take that suits each of us in relationships of various configurations.
But hey, that’s me. (What do you think?)
My own tally, looking back?
That would be seven, possibly eight. Wait… That figure could be nine.
Nah. We’ll go with seven. In any case, that places me at the far end of the Love Bell Curve (if you will), as the segments provided by the quickie survey range from none to five or more, in a breakdown as follows:
- Never been in love: 1%
- In love one time: 17%
- In love twice: 26%
- In love three or four times: 46%
- In love five or more times: 10%
Naturally, with no details on the age, sex or marital status of the respondents, we can’t draw any conclusions of significance, though I am stunned to find myself in the 10% category. (Just how are these respondents determining the individuals to include?)
More interesting to me is the way I appraised and then accounted for the men I have loved. The first man I lived with was among them while the first man I had a sexual relationship with was not; the man I married was among them while another man with whom marriage was discussed was not. In fact, considerations of marriage (and sex) had far less to do with identification of a love relationship than I would have imagined.
Also, time we spent together was not a factor. One person with whom I was in a relationship for nearly two years was not among those rating a Love Label, and nor does another in which a whirlwind romance lasted four months.
I say as much with the perspective of a woman “of a certain age;” I am definitely aware of the distinction between love and limerence.
I also look at two relationships in which the words were never openly exchanged, yet I know that I was in love, and felt the enduring effects of that love for an extended period.
Four of my love stories occurred before marriage; #5 (or #6) was the man I married, and two (or three?) came after our split more than a dozen years ago.
Why does seven or eight or nine sound like a lot? (Larry King or Liz Taylor might chuckle at my dismay.) Why does this number seem contradicted by so many years that I have spent alone? (Time off for 36 months as a sort of palate cleanser.) Is there a “right” number of times to be in love, and whose to say what that figure is?
Also not surprising… I can look back and see each romantic tale as a clear indication of where I was in life at the time – woefully naïve about relationships (somewhat isolated in my working life, regardless of my age); at an especially vulnerable time in life (after the death of my father and my grandmother, the two people I loved most in the world; this was my emotional landscape when I met the man who became my husband); first love “again” several years after divorce, with very few also-rans when the newness of my single status had long since worn off.
Recalling these relationships and the roles they played in my life leads me to wonder about the hardiness of our loving constitutions, the raising and razing of affective barriers, and the moments when we – or someone else – is able to dismantle the brick and stone that we hope will keep out hurt.
I think, too, of the wear-and-tear of the quotidian — the utility bills and household chores, the duty visits to in-laws or steps, and our engines of discontent that are born of boredom or unrealistic expectations. The dizzying state of “in love” is wondrous, but equally so — history we have built that offers us a solid structure; a spontaneous flare up of passion intensified by love; the inside joke that requires no language to incite a laugh; fingers grasped when you’re weary after a sleepless night.
Now, we all know that some women (and men) are love junkies. They flit from flower to flower (so to speak), convincing themselves they’re in love, when in reality, they’re in love with love itself, with those early vertiginous stages that are as intoxicating as any mood elevating drug. But the real world complexities that follow — not to mention the necessity for both individuals involved to step down from the pedestal — are more work than they can manage.
That has never been my challenge.
Choosing well, being chosen well, timing, luck… these are another matter.
So just how do I interpret my own number?
I’m glad I didn’t marry each time it was “the next logical step,” or I suspect I would have been divorced several times over. I’m glad to know that my heart has been big enough to give admiration, affection, trust and support… more than a few times. I’m glad that over the years I’ve come to better understand the many types of love that can exist, and those that enrich us as well as the others in our lives. I am still learning the art of loving enough and not too much, and the importance of loving myself with a greater measure of kindness.
How many times have you been in love? While there may be an “average,” do you think there’s a “normal?” Where would you fall on the “Love Bell Curve” as described?
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I must fall fairly average at three men I have loved. The number seems small considering my romantic heart. I admit that I have been cautious to fall and once fallen remain stubbornly loyal beyond reason, which for me limits my ability to be “in love” with another. These self boundaries have kept my number low, I guess.
The various definitions we each have for being in love are another factor for consideration!
Fairly average with four times, but I had to think about it. :)) My first love made the cut, and then there was the first man… Two more after that. I also am in the stubbornly loyal camp. Never been one to have been easily swept off my feet, and I have always preferred the gentler tides of well settled love.
In love? Infatuation? In lust? Hmmm, being an average guy, I’m guessing an average number of times. Do I kiss and tell? But do I even remember correctly? One person says love, the other says fling. Tis better to have loved and flung than never to have flinged at all. … Well, something like that.
Two for me. And, sadly, my husband is not one of them. I was in an emotionally vulnerable place when I met him and he was my “rescuer;” he was emotionally vulnerable too and I “rescued” him. But I do count my first love, even though we were only in high school. I still feel that warm feeling deep inside when I remember him, and that deep longing from when he left. My second love is the man I am in love with now. I count being in love as when I was hit in the face, swept off my feet, swallowed in a tidal wave of love. I didn’t have the desperate feeling of trying to please him to keep him, or wondering with terror when he would leave me. Just a warm, deep, knowing feeling that I am his and he is mine. I could be ME and he would still love me.
Being oneself. Being loved for (and in spite of?) being oneself. That really says it all, KT. And I’m happy for you to have that now!
I met a wonderful woman back in the day who I truly loved. One day she informed me that she had to call a plumber to fix a toilet seat. I told her that I could do that for her. Knowing the gyrations and awkward positions that would be required to perform this task, I had to vigorously clean the toilet and the broken seat thereon. (I’m A.Retentive) when it comes to that stuff! The bolt that fastens the seat was stripped, so the simple job that I was expecting took almost 2 hours!! When I finally finished, she looked at me and gave me a big kiss and said, “Now I know you really love me. I’ve had a few relationships, but NO man ever cleaned and repaired a toilet seat for me!”
She was the 2nd of 2 women that I have loved in my life. I guess a dirty, broken toilet seat will really bring out one’s true feelings! Hah, Ha…….
What a great story, Ron! 🙂
It’s interesting what reveals true love and how we measure it.
Oh my, that question stopped me in my tracks! Eight is my answer. But I might need to bump up to nine too. And this for a woman who tells herself that her 20s and 30s were nearly loveless! Ah but not all of my eight were requited you see…
Bon Weekend, chere amie,
H
Ah, Heather… A whole other conversation. Those that “might have been” of the unrequited sort. (Heureusement que je ne sois pas la seule à parler de tants d’amoureux ! Vivre l’amour, c’est beau, n’est-ce pas ? Tu me fais sourire.) Bon weekend to you, too. xo
5 for me – and I have been married to number 5 for the past 25 years. There were others along the way, times when I was in love with the idea of being in love, but not in love with the man. One I was in love with for 2 years and in one instant, fell out of love with him. Another, my college sweetheart and first lover, I found out has died. I found this out 4 years ago and I am amazed at how deeply I am grieving. For another, who broke my heart with lies and deception, I fear the residual in loveness, small as it is, may never go away.
Having this incredible marriage for the past 25 years has also had it’s ups and downs. There have been times when I wondered if love was still there, times when our relationship feels like a working partnership and not much else. During the past 4 months, we have both had our times of adversity and have gone above and beyond the ordinary to help each other out. There have been moments during this time when I love him so much I start to cry. And THAT hasn’t happened since the year I had my baby girl.
Your comment is so rich, Lunaboogie. So much real life. So much of the ways we love and the ways the experience touches us.
I am making a mental note of your observation on your marriage. There are lessons there for us.
THREE!