7 Lessons I’ve Learnt From Writing About Love

Having spent years interviewing people about their thoughts on, and experiences of, love, journalist Natasha Lunn – founder of Conversations on Love, the newsletter and bestselling book – is constantly interrogating her understanding of it. Here, she tells us seven things that she has learnt about love through these conversations, and the responses they have garnered – from the pandemic challenges to the hope that comes with uncertainty…

“From people writing to me with their stories, I’m more aware now [of] people suffering so much. When I started the project in my early 30s, I hadn’t really seen much suffering up close yet. I’m now a lot more aware of the finite nature of life… All these people with so many stories of loss. But then I also feel so much more aware of [how much] an interaction with someone you don’t know can mean, and how much love I’ve found from writing back and forth with strangers. That form of love between people you don’t know can be so powerful.”

“I’ve been amazed [since writing the book] by how many people have said to me, ‘This was my exact pattern in relationships…’ Even speaking to people like Roxane Gay and Philippa Perry – smart, incredible people who have lost themselves in relationships. I think you sometimes need a reminder that you’re not alone in what you feel are these huge shameful things.

“I wanted to be really honest about how small things can feel so devastating. You know, someone not replying to a text message can feel gutting. When you’re in those situations, the loneliness can be crippling. I think so often people in the future like to look back and tone down those feelings, but I didn’t want to do that. In an earlier draft, when I was writing about my teenage-crush relationship, I was a bit hard on myself, and my friend said, ‘When you shame yourself here, you’re also shaming me and everyone else who’s done that.’”

“Two big differences in how people have experienced the pandemic is that some people were living in close quarters with people they love, which can be quite claustrophobic. And then people who live on their own [have had] a different challenge, because [it can be] so lonely and they haven’t had as much physical connection… What has really dropped off for me is friendship, and I think for both of these groups, that’s been a big thing – loss of friendship and loss of occasions where you can’t organize to see each other. That leads to a lot of asking who the people are who matter in your life and [needing to make] more of a conscious decision to be with them.”

“I find it so difficult that [with a baby] you can’t be there for people in exactly the way that you were [before], but a therapist I interviewed said that sometimes you have to send a placeholder. So, rather than feeling guilty that I can’t go to something, it’s [about] sending a friend a message and saying, ‘I’m so sad I can’t see you at the moment, but I want you to know that I love you and I’m thinking about you.’ It’s sending a friend a birthday card and writing something really meaningful in it. Finding those little opportunities to connect – even if I’m not able to be physically present.”

“A big challenge at the moment is really the opposite of where I started out [in the book]. I began obsessing over romantic love and how it was the be all and end all. Now, [it is] trying to pay any attention to romantic love because it is so easily the thing that drops off – in parenthood and trying to have a career and to be with my family and friends. Because my husband and my relationship feel so stable, and it’s like the ground beneath everything, it’s easy to walk on it and assume it will always be there. When something’s good, there’s a danger of expecting [to not have to] do anything to contribute to it… So, for me, [the challenge] is those two things: finding ways to be more present in friends’ lives, even if I can’t see them – and not neglecting my romantic relationship, just because it’s stable.”

“I’ve learnt lots of different lessons from the book, but I think, overall, it’s the [existence of] melancholy and joy in every life stage and not expecting one to ever be entirely free from the other… For so long, I was a cynic and pessimistic, but I’ve been unable to remain a pessimist hearing people speak about love, because it does fill you with hope over and over again. People falling in love after loss. And then, also, in the small moments. Couples’ therapist Esther Perel said something that I think about all the time: “One day you just think, ‘I’ve had it, I’m out of here, I’m so done with you, I can’t take another minute of this.’ The next morning, you wake up and you squeeze that person and say, ‘I’m glad I’m waking up with you.’”

“I had always been a bit fearful of change. It is scary when you love someone and you don’t know what’s going to happen. But, now, I really do find that change a hopeful thing. I did always think that long-term romantic love, in particular, was this companionship you fall into – [which is] safe and easy, and it’s not that at all. It’s still so mysterious, and I find new things all the time that surprise me. And with my friends and my partner and my parents, I feel like I’m falling in love again and again. So, I feel not just hopeful but more excited about love than I ever have ­– because I arrive at the end with even more questions and even more uncertainty. Love surprises me in so many ways – and isn’t that something to look forward to?”

Conversations on Love is out now

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