When I speak to my friends and relatives generally about love, we all have similar questions about our relationships. What is true love in a relationship? What is a healthy relationship? What does real love feel like? and mainly How do you know if you are in a toxic relationship? And it made think....
There are times when I look at relationships and wonder if there is actually any love in them at all. Sometimes, what looks like love is really a constant attempt to win each other over—not to win the heart, but simply to win. And winning gives a strange kind of satisfaction. It gives the mind something to hold on to. It gives happiness, a sense of achievement, even a sense of control. And when the other person truly falls for the performance, believing that everything being done is coming from love, they slowly give in.
That is where the relationship can become a game. A game of performance. A game of control. A game of authority. There may be no true love anywhere, and yet the relationship continues because both people are living inside an illusion. The one performing thinks, “Look at how much I am doing.” The other thinks, “Look at how much I am loved.” And both can remain convinced that this is love. The line between doing something out of love, without expecting anything in return, and doing something as an act to achieve something is very, very thin.
It has to be observed consciously. Because love can mean doing what is needed while allowing the other person to remain free. It can mean supporting their growth even when that growth does not benefit you. It can mean giving without quietly keeping a record of everything you have given. But sometimes we do things while secretly expecting something in return. We support, but do not really support. We give, but not what is actually needed. We do something because we want to achieve something through it.
And maybe the most dangerous part is that we may not even know which one we are doing. Because one day, everything has to fall apart for truth to sustain itself. That is the way of life. The person who has been putting on the performance eventually becomes exhausted by it. What once felt like an expression of love slowly becomes duty. Every action becomes something they have to do. Every effort becomes a responsibility. And what was once performed willingly begins to weigh heavily on them.
They become tired. And that tiredness eventually gets shown to the other person. Through anger, frustration and constant disappointment thinking "I have already done so much but this person doesn't do anything for me at all". It's not that other person doesn't really do anything. But it becomes unsatisfactory no matter what, because of the comparison of performance. The other person, when they finally realise that what they thought was love was actually an attempt to gain control over them, can experience an entirely different kind of pain.
They realise that their freedom of action, their freedom of speech, perhaps even their individuality, was slowly being taken away—not necessarily through force, but through what they believed was love. And that can break the heart in a very strange way.
Because it feels like betrayal.
All this time, I thought I was loved. All this time, I thought these things were being done for me. All this time, I thought this was real. And suddenly, what they thought was love becomes poison. The eyes that once looked at the other person with love now look at them with anger, disappointment, perhaps even hatred.
And then I wonder about these two people.
Who has lost more? Who is more disappointed? Who is more frustrated? Who is more angry? It is actually sad to look at both of them. Because neither of them consciously decided to create this. They were simply moving through life, driven by emotions, hormones, expectations, fears and the desperate human desire to be loved.
There is a simple example I often think about.
A woman asks for water, And the man brings her juice, thick shakes, expensive bags, a phone, money, perhaps everything he can think of. But not water. For a person who is thirsty, what is needed is water. Not everything else. This is where paying attention becomes so important. Love is not always about doing more. Sometimes love is about noticing. What does this person actually need? What is life asking of me right now? What is needed here?
And am I doing that, or am I doing something else because it makes me feel like I am loving?
This is where performance begins.
We become so busy proving that we love someone that we stop actually looking at them. We become so busy doing things for them that we stop noticing what is needed by them, eventually, the performance becomes so convincing that even we forget that it is a performance. Until one day, we cannot bear to be in each other's presence for more than five minutes.
And yet, we cannot leave.
It is never that simple to leave. There is society. There is the investment of time. There are years of energy and effort poured in one direction. There are memories. There are fears. There is the terrifying thought of starting again. And so two people can remain stuck in something that neither of them truly wants anymore.
Not because there is love.
But because there is so much investment in the illusion. And I refuse to keep myself in this illusion in either of these positions. I was, I am, and I will always choose to remain honest. Because love cannot be weighed in terms of “What did you do for me?” and “What did I do for you?” It is sad that we sometimes look at love this way. Like it is an account book.
You did this. So I did that.
You gave me this. So I owe you that. But love is not a transaction. It is not a calculation of who gave more. It is not a competition of sacrifice. And perhaps it is also not about constantly adjusting, compromising, listening to each other simply because that is what we have been taught a relationship should be.
There is something deeper.
To be in our natural, dominant energy in a way that balances the relationship. To align with the other person. To understand our role, not as someone who has to constantly prove their love, but as someone who can simply be and do what is needed for the other person. Read that again. Do what is needed. Not what will make you feel like a good partner. Not what will make the other person indebted to you. Not what will give you control.
What is actually needed.
And perhaps this changes the definition of love completely. Love, to me, is not about constantly adjusting yourself to fit another person. It is not about compromising yourself until there is almost nothing of you left. It is not about sharing every thought, every emotion, every frustration simply because you have someone to dump it on. It is not even about having to talk about everything. Instead, for me love is about learning something from each other and growing individually. It is about sharing the beautiful moments—not making the other person responsible for carrying every emotion you experience.
It is about learning to communicate properly when communication is needed. And also knowing that silence does not always mean something is wrong. It is about not taking each other for granted. It is about building trust. Building a safe space for each other. Every single day. It is about allowing another human being to remain an individual while choosing to walk beside them. And that is why I feel love is a beautiful companionship.
Not possession. Not control. Not performance. Companionship. Two people growing, learning, experiencing, sharing and simply being together, without either one having to disappear into the other. Because if love takes away your freedom, your individuality and your ability to simply be yourself, what exactly are you holding on to? And if love requires you to constantly perform, prove, sacrifice and keep score, what exactly are you calling love?
Maybe we have made love far more complicated than it needs to be. Maybe it is much simpler. Look. Pay attention. Learn. Grow. Do what is needed. Let the other be free. And remain honest. Because if this is not love, then what is it? And if it is not this kind of companionship, perhaps we are simply lost.
As simple as that.
