Libido transfer. — To a certain extent, when someone is totally in love, (the essence of) the loved one replaces the self of the lover. We come across this in Sigmund Freud’s An Outline of Psychoanalysis, where the libido of the lover is transferred onto the object, which is the beloved. For the sake of simplification, here, let us assume that the lover in our story is (as is so traditionally) a he, and the loved one is a she. When a man falls madly in love with a woman, something in him changes. His friends notice this first and say things like, “He’s become a different man,” or in sadder scenarios, “He’s not one of the boys anymore.” They don’t understand the transformation their friend is going through because they haven’t been struck by love yet themselves. According to the lover’s psyche, the beloved is no longer a separate individual; reversely, he no longer represents himself alone. The representations (or the qualities) of her self are merged with his, and his actions now represent the synthesis of his self and hers. Love makes him an extension of the person he loves. Then it goes further than that. It is not enough that their souls are entangled and have formed a Gordian Knot, but instead of prioritizing his needs and desires, he now starts prioritizing hers. (Symmetrically, if the relationship is a mutualistic symbiosis, she also becomes an extension of him — after becoming more like her, he sees her in the mirror, and vice versa.) At this point, when the man has become possessed by love, his self’s independence begins to diminish. The invisible love leash chokes him when the distance (as well as the time) between him and his beloved expands. He feels incomplete, even guilty, when separated from her. He gives up his freedom, changes his habits to match his partner’s, and sacrifices whatever he must to preserve the fetters of love. And it’s not only his behavior that changes; he starts to see things from his beloved’s lens. He interprets and experiences life differently by identifying with her needs, desires, wants, ideologies, beliefs, culture, traditions, and emotions. He says, “If she’s happy, I’m happy,” or (in jest), “Happy wife, happy life.” [A test: How do you know if you are the lover or the beloved in a certain set of circumstances? If the actions of the other aim to please you, then you are the beloved. If it’s the other way around, you are the lover.] [I must add a note here: Although the lover-beloved balance between two individuals in a relationship isn’t always in equilibrium, we must remember that love isn’t a one-way relationship. In a healthy romantic relationship, there ought to be scenarios in which you are the lover and scenarios in which you are the beloved, (unconsciously) switching roles with your partner as you go. You’ll need to take turns because you cannot be both the lover and the beloved simultaneously. You can play one role at a time.] The lover must be brave, ready to take big risks. He needs that Kierkegaardian leap of faith. He needs to close his eyes and jump. To love is a courageous act. One must be ready to do crazy things for love. He must surrender to it. Unlike popular belief, a healthy romantic relationship has nothing to do with the preservation of physical or mental health. A healthy romantic relationship is a spiritual relationship that may sometimes include sacrifices such as the surrender of mental or physical health. Nonetheless, the altruistic lover who lets go of his ego altogether is not a real lover; he is a symbiote with an ego mimicking the beloved’s ego. The altruistic lover is the beloved’s machine that generates recognition and satisfaction. The opposite of the altruistic lover, the narcissistic lover, is also not a real lover; he is a parasitic symbiote. He only loves lovers, not beloveds. Those who resist libido transfer suppress (and prevent the development of) true love. They are not ready for true love simply because they are not ready to sacrifice themselves on its altar. They will not be remembered as great lovers… It is no surprise that many individuals resist transferring libido to a loved one. (Their number, in fact, far exceeds those who truly love.) They fear potential heartbreak, they lack trust in people, and they don’t want to lose themselves and their freedom. (Withholding libido transfer is the safer option for those who want to keep the self unblemished.) But when these individuals simulate acts of love by repeating what they read in books and what they see in movies, they’re not loving, they’re only playing the role of the lover. They’re playing it safe and are not really invested in the relationship. They are only showing love but not genuinely loving. Unknowingly, they are pretending to love. They don’t know that those who want to remain who they are cannot love absolutely. When the time of sacrifice comes, they’ll ask, “Why would I live for someone else when I can live for myself?” They’ll ask, “Why would anyone want to lose their self, their Ich, their ego?” While some sacrifice themselves for love, they sacrifice love for themselves. What they don’t get is this: when you love, you don’t lose yourself; you become more than yourself.