I’ve been single and dating for about 35 years. I cannot begin to count the number of hours I’ve spent first revisiting each thrilling moment with whomever was my newest love interest and then, soon enough, miserably dissecting the meaning behind his every word and action looking for a clue about how he felt  and where our relationship was going.  

For me, the first flush of “love” was so heady, a giggle in my tummy, a big, old endorphin rush, brain-soaking-in-chemicals, walking-on-air high. I would be obsessed and infatuated and fully charged. The feeling was deliciously addictive and it was easy to want to fall in “love” with that mysterious, smouldering stranger or smiling sweetie who made me feel soooooo good.   

But here’s the trouble with highs and addictions – they have a dark side. The high doesn’t last forever. Eventually I’d crash. I’d hurt. I’d be confused, needy, exposed…