For all of us, our first love is a specially agonising, powerful, uncontrollable emotion. Years ago, a friend of mine was chatting with a guy 9 years older to her. Finally they decided to meet, and needless to say, after a few meetings, she fell in love with him. Since we were only teenagers at the time, the age difference really bothered me. Also the fact that she had mostly communicated with him online and so, could not really have known him very well. She was a high strung person and could get extremely insecure at times. At these times she would throw a tantrum, fight and withdraw into herself.

I hoped everything would turn out well, but from the look of things, it seemed a little improbable. Not wishing to be pessimistic, but knowing her nature, I tried to advise her to take it slowly, and just enjoy the relationship in the present. However she was madly in love, and could not imagine life without him anymore. She wanted to marry him and settle down. Unfortunately, the guy decided to end the relationship. He gave the flimsiest of excuses, about why it would not work out between them, and kept telling her that although he loved her, he could not marry her, his family wanted him to end the relationship, and he could not disappoint them. I knew she would be heartbroken, but at the same time, I expected she would give the guy a piece of her mind and give back as good as she got. I hoped she would tell him exactly what he was, a wimp, and never see his face again.

But I had obviously not reckoned with the power of love. Instead of throwing him out of her life, she almost began stalking him. Even when his veiled hints turned hostile and abusive, she was obsessed with him and practically begged him to continue the relationship at any terms. When some of her friends tried to reason with her, telling her that she was just being used by the guy, she turned at us telling us that we were jealous, and that we had never wanted it work out between them. This surprised me. The girl, whose ego made her take offence at even imaginary slights, was turning herself into a doormat for this guy, all in the name of love.

Well, she was studying in another town, and I gradually lost touch with her. But I often thought about the change within her and wondered how she could have stayed in a relationship of that kind and called it love. After all, as someone said, true love is when your love for the other person is greater than your need for them. Or am I wrong?

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