Lessons in love, limbo, and limerence
So, your imagination is ruining your love life? Well, you’re not alone.

One of my first memories of falling in love was in the second grade. Let’s call him Jack. During recess, I would sit on the playground slide and watch him kick a ball around the gravel court. He had a British accent and wore the soccer jerseys of his favourite players. Occasionally, in between plays, he’d look over at me with a toothy grin. 

I fell in love with him then.

Later, I’d go home and write about him in the pages of my hot pink diary that I begged my mom to buy me from Justice, even though I had a growing pile of half-filled notebooks on my bedroom floor. My love for him existed within those pages of sloppy grade school cursive in a way that was sacred to me and me only. I’d write my first name with his last. I’d predict what he’d wear to school the next day and plan an outfit that would match. I’d dissect his longing stares from across the classroom, which I’d later learn was just him needing to get an eyeglass prescription. But at the time, in my eyes, he was completely and irrevocably mine.

Until I realized I made it all up.  

My parents always told me that my imagination would be my superpower. “Your creative mind is going to change the world,” they’d tell me. However, what they didn’t warn me about was that my superpower would also become my greatest weakness—that over time, it would work against me and, perhaps more notably, against my love life.

Now, I’m not saying that Jack was the love of my life or anything—he was just a boy on the playground, and I likely had a new crush by recess the next day—but I do know that I fell in love with the idea of what he could be. I fell in love with the version of him I created in my mind.

So, what in the world is limerence?

Well, to put it short, it’s just that. Limerence is the state of fantasizing about a relationship with someone who is almost impossible to have a relationship with. Emphasis on almost. People experiencing limerence tend to hold on to the “almost-ness” of it all—imagining what it could look like to be with someone but not proactively doing anything about it. I like to think of it as being in limbo between what you’ve created in your mind about the other person and what’s actually real. 

And how is that different from a crush?

A crush is often defined as a fleeting feeling of admiration towards another person. You see someone attractive at a café—maybe you think about them for a bit afterwards—but you forget about them in time. They just become someone you stumbled upon in passing. On the other hand, limerence is a much more intense, obsessive, and all-consuming state of infatuation. There is no passing. You take the café run-in and turn it into something that it’s not. 

Since the second grade, I have had handfuls of innocent crushes on boys like Jack. But as I got older, they became something more than just a playground crush or someone to write about in my journal. These select few took up residence in my mind. They became the blueprint from which everything else builds. They’d unpack their bags in my imagination and never leave. That is the difference. Crushes come and go, but limerence lingers like an uninvited ghost.

Limerence typically follows three stages:

1. Infatuation: The initial phase where you become completely obsessed with the object of your affection. You notice them in every situation, from the way they speak to the way they walk. Your thoughts become dominated by them. Every interaction, no matter how small, feels like a sign that you’re meant to be together. You might find yourself daydreaming about them constantly or imagining scenarios where you’re the main character in their love story.
2. Crystallization: This stage occurs when you start to believe that the person you’re infatuated with is flawless and the solution to all your problems. You idealize them to such an extent that you put them on a pedestal, convinced that they are perfect in every way. You begin to think that everything about them, from their quirks to their flaws, is a part of their charm. You become so absorbed in your fantasy of them that it becomes hard to distinguish where the person ends and where your imagination begins.
3. Deterioration: Eventually, reality starts to intrude. The cracks in the idealized image you’ve created begin to show. You might notice that the person doesn’t live up to the expectations you’ve placed on them, or that they’re not as perfect as you imagined. Disappointment sets in as the fantasy world you’ve built starts to crumble. The emotional highs that come with imagining a perfect future with them are replaced by frustration, as you realize that they aren’t the person you thought they were.

Despite acknowledging that my limerent object isn’t who I imagined them to be, I often find myself stuck in the third stage, waiting on the day that they could change my mind. Just like a drug, limerence gives you these intense, euphoric highs that are often fleeting. Afterward, you’re left craving more, constantly chasing the next moment where you feel validated by the person you’re infatuated with. 

So, how do you get over limerence?

The first step is recognizing that you’re in it. Once you understand that you’re experiencing limerence, it becomes easier to see the disconnect between the person you’re fixated on and the fantasy you’ve built around them. Acknowledging that the relationship exists primarily in your mind can be a powerful realization. From there, you can begin the process of grounding yourself back in reality.

A good place to start is by distancing yourself from the limerent object. While it may feel difficult at first, limiting contact with the person allows you to stop feeding the fantasy. When you remove access, you can more easily assess whether or not the feelings you have are genuine or simply projections of your desires. Once you focus on your own well-being, whether through personal hobbies, friendships, or therapy, you’ll start to realize that your happiness doesn’t have to be tied to another person. 

Now, I’m not one to admit that this process will be easy. Over the years, I’ve found myself in countless situations where a harmless crush has transformed into intense limerence. And with these situations come many lessons.

I’ve learned that it’s easier to look at things through the rose-coloured glasses of fantasy (especially if you’re anything like me and red is your favourite colour). But getting over limerence is about taking those glasses off and accepting that no one is going to fit that perfect mould that you’ve sculpted in your head. The most torturous part about being a hopeless romantic with an extensive imagination is that in the end, everything is always better in your mind. Recognizing that we are all human, with flaws and complexities, can help us shift away from the idea of “the perfect person” and toward an appreciation of real, authentic connections. Eventually, after losing an emotional attachment to someone, you’ll realize how ordinary the person was—that it was your love and energy that made them so perfect, not them.