The time I realised I was limerant: and what I did about it

Yep, this time I was actually the problem

There was a guy I was dating who I was pretty keen on. Not in love with, not obsessed with, but definitely excited about. We went on a few dates and he was sweet, shy, and soft-spoken: a refreshing change from loud, proud, Caligulas. For the first time, I was interested in a man I didn’t text constantly and didn’t talk to non-stop: this felt healthy. Relaxed. Slow burn.

But one day, for no reason, he didn’t text me back or reach out for a week. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t upset me a bit.

Do you want them, or do you want what it meant to be wanted by them?

Suddenly someone I quite liked, someone I would have liked to know more about, was now wonderful. He was the only person I wanted to hear from when I opened my phone. I thought about him every single day. I wondered whether he’d got bored, or if he had found someone better. I wondered what about me wasn’t good enough. I desperately wanted him to want me back.