“What I’m looking for in a man is someone who fits like a glove. I want to feel so comfortable in his presence that I don’t have to put on an act for fear of him not liking who I am. I want to feel a rush of excitement and a burning desire to be with him all the time. When I first went out with Russ, I was constantly excited and on top of the world. Even though he wasn’t my usual type, the physical attraction was immense. I couldn’t get enough of him and felt nauseous when I wasn’t with him – I think that’s the definition of being ‘love sick’. Two years later a friend asked me if I still felt tingly when I kissed him and my answer was yes. I felt an animal magnetism towards him. I want to feel that again with someone else. As I have felt it with other men I know it exists. Ivan clearly felt it with me because he just couldn’t stop touching and looking at me. It would have been great if I’d felt the same but there again is it simply lust? How do you know whether you’re in love or lust?”
– Excerpt from The Man in a Haystack © Alice Huskisson 2012
Therein lies the problem. Do love and lust go hand in hand? Can love survive without lust? For many years I confused the two. I have felt excruciating emotional pain when a relationship predominantly based on sex ended abruptly and prematurely, but I have felt similarly when a relationship with a strong foundation of friendship topped with a regular helping of ‘sexy time’ has drawn to a close.
I really wish we could turn back time and experience courting in the 1930s and 1940s when people took things slowly and apparently fell in love before any ‘funny business’ or ‘how’s your father’ took place. It is those marriages which stood Continue reading