When You Are in a Relationship and You Fall in Love with Another Person

It starts with a ping. You’re on the sofa next to your partner, half-watching a series you both like, and your phone lights up with a name that makes your stomach do something it hasn’t done in years. You turn the screen face-down a beat too quickly. Your partner asks, “Everything okay?” and you hear yourself say “Just work,” in a voice that sounds borrowed. Later, brushing your teeth, you look at your own face in the mirror and wonder who exactly that is. Nothing has happened. Nothing has to have happened. The feeling alone has already changed the room.

You can feel loyalty at the dinner table and a pulse of wanting to be elsewhere in the very same hour. Most advice online either shames you or hands you a permission slip. Neither helps. Here’s what rarely gets said out loud: falling for someone else while committed is a common human experience, not a rare moral defect. Attraction doesn’t check your relationship status before it arrives. But common isn’t the same as harmless. Handled with secrecy, it can turn into an emotional affair and shred trust; handled with honesty and a bit of courage, it can become surprisingly useful information about what you need, what you’ve been avoiding and what you actually want.

So don’t panic, and don’t act yet.

This guide explains what it means when you’re in a relationship and you fall in love with another person, why it happens, how to tell infatuation from something deeper, and what to do next without wrecking more lives than necessary.

Is it normal to fall for someone else when you’re already in a relationship?

Yes. Developing strong feelings for someone outside your relationship is more common than most people admit, and it doesn’t automatically mean your relationship is failing or that you’re a bad person. What matters is what you do next, not that the feeling arrived.

I should be honest about the data. I haven’t found a reliable, widely replicated figure for how many committed people develop romantic feelings for someone else; the numbers floating around online come from small or poorly described surveys, and definitions vary wildly. What clinicians see, though, is consistent: therapists meet people in happy, mediocre and miserable relationships who find themselves drawn elsewhere. The feeling crosses all categories.

Take Nadia, an illustrative composite. Married for six years, she’s on a three-day work trip when a colleague from another office makes her laugh until her ribs hurt. They talk until the hotel bar closes. Back home, she catches herself rehearsing what she’ll say if his name pops up on her screen. She loves her husband. She also can’t stop thinking about the way a stranger made her feel like the most interesting person in the room.

The anthropologist Helen Fisher has argued that humans have at least three partly independent brain systems for mating: sexual desire, romantic attraction and long-term attachment. Because these systems are distinct, you can feel deep attachment to one person while feeling the electric pull of attraction toward another. That doesn’t excuse any behavior. It does explain why “but I love my partner” and “I’m obsessed with someone else” can both be true on the same afternoon.

Feeling versus action is the hinge. A feeling is information. An action, like secret messaging, escalating contact or lying about where you were, is a choice with consequences for other people. Most couples can survive an attraction that was handled honestly. Far fewer survive a concealed relationship that grew in the dark.

One more thing before moving on: shame is a bad advisor here. People who feel intensely ashamed tend to hide, and hiding is precisely what turns a private feeling into a damaging pattern. You can take this seriously without treating yourself as a criminal.

Why does this happen to people in otherwise good relationships?

Because attraction is driven by more than relationship quality. Novelty, unmet needs, life stage, timing and brain chemistry all play a part, and sometimes the trigger is as ordinary as spending a lot of time with someone interesting. Often several causes stack up at once.

The common ones look like this:

• Novelty and neurochemistry: new attraction lights up the brain’s reward circuitry in ways a familiar partner rarely does, simply because the person is unknown and unpredictable.
• Unmet emotional needs: feeling unseen, unappreciated or taken for granted at home makes someone who listens feel magnetic.
• Proximity and repeated contact, such as a shared project, a commute, a gym class or a group chat that never sleeps.
• A life transition: a new baby, a career change, a bereavement, a move or turning forty can shake identity loose and make you hungry for a different version of yourself.
• Relationship drift: years of logistics, little affection, minimal conflict that actually gets resolved, and conversations that revolve around who’s picking up the kids.
• Personal patterns: fear of depth, a habit of seeking validation, or attachment tendencies that make beginnings feel safer than the middle.

The psychotherapist Esther Perel, in her work on infidelity, argues that what people seek in an outside connection is often not the other person at all but a version of themselves: the playful one, the desired one, the one who is curious and alive. That reframing is helpful. It shifts the question from “Do I love them?” to “Who am I when I’m with them, and why can’t I be that person at home?”

Not every case implies a flaw in the relationship. Sometimes a perfectly decent partnership meets a perfectly timed collision with a charming stranger. The late infidelity researcher Shirley Glass emphasized that affairs happen in good marriages too, which is a reason not to blame yourself or your partner reflexively.

Consider Ben, an illustrative composite. He and his girlfriend are steady but busy, and their evenings have shrunk to dishwasher negotiations. Then an old friend from university joins a group chat, and Ben finds himself checking the thread at lunch, funnier and warmer there than he’s been at home in months. Nothing is wrong with his girlfriend. Something is wrong with the amount of play in their life.

The practical point: when you can name the driver, you can respond to it. Treating novelty as if it were destiny, or treating unmet needs as if they were a character flaw, sends you down the wrong road.

Is it real love, infatuation or limerence?

Myth first: the belief that intense feelings automatically prove “true love” or prove that you’re with the wrong person. Intensity tells you about brain activity, not compatibility. Early-stage attraction is powerful, obsessive and unreliable as a guide to long-term fit.

The psychologist Dorothy Tennov coined the word limerence in her 1979 book to describe the state of being “in love” in its involuntary, consuming form. After interviewing hundreds of people, she described its features: intrusive thinking about the other person, acute longing for reciprocation, mood that rises and falls with every sign of interest, and a tendency to idealize. She also noted that it needs two ingredients to thrive: hope and uncertainty. Her estimate was that limerence most often lasts from about 18 months to 3 years, though it can be shorter or, rarely, last far longer.

Brain imaging supports the picture. In a study led by Arthur Aron with Helen Fisher and colleagues, 17 people who had recently fallen intensely in love viewed photographs of their beloved while in a scanner. Activity appeared in dopamine-rich reward regions, including the ventral tegmental area and the caudate nucleus, the same neighborhood implicated in motivation and craving. Notably, a later study of long-married people who still reported intense love found activity in similar reward areas plus regions linked to attachment. So the early rush and the settled love are related but not identical.

How do you tell what you have? A rough comparison helps, with the caveat that real life blends the columns.

A useful reality check: how much of what you feel is based on actual shared life with this person, and how much on what you imagine? Have you seen them tired, frightened, bored or angry? Have you ever argued about money, chores or in-laws? Infatuation thrives on gaps in information, and the mind obligingly fills them with its best material.

None of this means your feelings are fake. They’re real. They may also be unreliable. Both can be true, and it’s wise to keep them separate until the haze clears.

What do these feelings say about your current relationship?

Less than you fear, and more than you want to admit. Feelings for someone else don’t prove your relationship is doomed, but they do deserve an honest audit of what’s missing, what’s working and what you’ve been avoiding saying.

Start with a counterfactual question: if this person had never appeared, would I still be wondering about my relationship? If the honest answer is no, you’re likely dealing with a temporary collision of novelty and opportunity. If the answer is yes, and you’d been feeling flat, lonely or resentful for a long while, the outside attraction may be shining a light on a problem that already existed.

Notice the difference between two scenarios. In one, the new person is a mirror: they reflect parts of you that your relationship doesn’t currently reach. In the other, they’re an exit: a way to avoid a hard conversation, an unresolved conflict or a fear of staying. Mirrors invite growth; exits invite escape. It’s worth knowing which you’re holding.

Some specific questions are worth sitting with, ideally on paper:

What do I feel when I’m with this person that I rarely feel at home? Is that a quality of them, or a quality of the situation (no shared chores, no history, no mutual responsibilities)? What have I stopped asking for from my partner? What have I stopped giving? Where was our relationship a year ago, and where is it now? When did I last feel truly curious about my partner?

Be wary of unfair comparisons. You’re comparing a partner you know in full, with their dirty laundry and their stress, to a person you meet in highlight reels. Nobody wins that contest. A new person has never failed to buy milk, never snored through your birthday dinner, never been grumpy after a bad day. Give them time, a shared mortgage and a sick child, and you’d see the full picture.

That said, some attractions carry real signals. If you’ve been lonely in your relationship for years, or your partner dismisses your needs, or the connection died long ago, then the outside spark is not the cause but a symptom. In that case, working on the new crush while ignoring the old problem is like mopping while the tap runs.

The aim of the audit isn’t to decide who’s at fault. It’s to find out what the feeling is pointing toward.

When does a crush turn into an emotional affair?

When it becomes secret, intimate and charged. That’s the working definition from the late psychologist Shirley Glass, who studied infidelity for decades: an affair involves emotional intimacy, secrecy and sexual chemistry, and it doesn’t require physical contact to count.

Glass, writing with Jean Coppock Staeheli in Not “Just Friends”, offered an image that has become a staple of couples therapy: walls and windows. In a healthy partnership, there’s a wall around the couple that protects it from outside romantic intrusion, and a wide window between the partners through which they see each other. In an affair, the architecture flips. A window opens to the outsider, who hears your real feelings, and a wall rises between you and your partner. The crush becomes an affair when the flow of intimacy reroutes.

Glass also described a “prevention myth”: the comforting idea that a good marriage inoculates you. It doesn’t. Many people who became involved in affairs still loved their spouses and never planned to be unfaithful; the connection developed step by step, often from friendship. That’s why boundaries matter even when you trust yourself.

Signs that a line may be approaching or crossed:

• Secrecy: you delete messages, minimize how often you talk, or feel a jolt of fear if your partner glances at your phone.
• Emotional redirection: the other person hears your news, your jokes and your worries first, while your partner gets logistics.
• Comparison: your partner starts losing in your mind to someone who hasn’t had to face a single ordinary Tuesday.
• Anticipation: you organize your day around a message, arrange “accidental” encounters and feel flat when they’re unavailable.

A simple test is the concealment test: would you behave exactly the same way if your partner were watching, fully informed? If the honest answer is no, something has already shifted, whatever you call it.

Plenty of people ask about the smaller stuff: liking posts, keeping an old flame in a chat, dreaming about someone. Those gray zones depend on your couple’s own agreements, and a different couple will draw them differently. What matters is whether the behavior is open to scrutiny and whether it’s quietly rerouting your emotional energy.

If you recognize two or three of these signs, you’re not doomed. You are at a decision point, and the cheapest time to act is now, before the wall at home becomes thick.

Should you tell your partner about your feelings?

Sometimes, but not always, and not in a rush. The goal is honesty about the state of the relationship, not a confession designed to ease your guilt. The right move depends on how far things have gone, what you intend to do and what telling would accomplish for both of you.

Imagine Elena, an illustrative composite, who has developed a crush on a fellow climber at her gym. They’ve exchanged a few friendly messages, nothing more. She feels guilty and wonders whether to tell her partner. Is a passing crush worth wounding someone over? Perhaps not. But she also notices she’s been withdrawn at home and quietly resentful, which her partner has noticed too. The more useful conversation may be about the distance between them, not the climber.

Here’s a rough way to think about it.

If it’s a fleeting attraction that you’ve already put at arm’s length, a full confession may mainly shift your discomfort onto your partner. Working on the relationship itself, perhaps by naming a need (“I miss feeling playful with you”), may serve better. If it’s persistent, preoccupying or tangled with real contact, your partner is already living in a relationship with a hidden variable, and concealment costs them the chance to respond. If it’s already involved secrecy or intimacy, honesty is likely to be needed, ideally with professional support.

Questions to ask yourself before deciding:

Why do I want to tell them: to repair, to unload, or to test their reaction? Am I ready for their anger, grief and a series of hard questions? Can I answer honestly and without minimizing? What outcome am I hoping for, and is it realistic? Would I want to be told if our positions were reversed?

If you do talk, choose a private, unhurried time. Own your feelings without blaming your partner. Skip excessive details about the other person; they tend to lodge in a partner’s mind like splinters. Expect pain. Don’t ask for immediate forgiveness or reassurance, and don’t use your disclosure as a bargaining chip.

A therapist can help with the preparation and the aftermath. Couples therapy is often more effective when the conversation happens in the office rather than the kitchen at midnight.

And if you’ve decided to end the relationship anyway, say so plainly instead of hiding behind the other person. Leaving because of a third party without addressing what was already wrong tends to leave both of you with unanswered questions.

How do you stop the feelings from growing?

Reduce contact, stop feeding fantasy and reinvest where you actually live. Attraction grows with attention, repetition and secrecy; take those away and it usually loses force. Willpower alone rarely works, but changing your environment often does.

The psychologist Jeffry Simpson and colleagues found in a 1990 study that people in committed relationships rated attractive strangers as less attractive than people who were not in relationships, as if the mind quietly devalues tempting alternatives to protect the bond. That protective reflex weakens when you invite the alternative closer, replay conversations or imagine a future together. So the practical strategy is to stop undermining your own defenses.

A workable sequence:

1. Cut or sharply limit private contact. If you share a workplace, keep it professional, public and brief. Mute chats, stop late-night texting and decline one-on-one drinks.
2. Stop rehearsing the fantasy. When a daydream starts, name it (“that’s the story again”) and redirect your attention to something concrete. Trying to suppress the thought directly tends to bring it back stronger.
3. Don’t confide in the object of your attraction about your relationship problems. Complaining about your partner to a potential alternative opens the window Shirley Glass warned about.
4. Invest in your relationship on purpose. Plan a date, put phones in another room, ask your partner a real question and listen. Bring some of the novelty home: try a new activity together.
5. Give yourself a time-bound review. Set a date, say six to eight weeks, to reassess how you feel once contact has dropped. Intensity often falls when the fuel does.

Expect withdrawal. When you cut contact, you may feel flat, restless or sad for a while, as if something has been taken away. That’s the reward system complaining. It usually eases.

What if the person is unavoidable, such as a colleague, a neighbor or a friend of your partner? Then structure matters more: meet in groups, keep conversations on neutral topics, avoid being alone with them and tell a trusted friend what you’re doing. Consider a transfer or a change of team if the situation is truly intolerable.

Do you have to feel nothing before you can act well? No. You can feel the pull and still choose differently. Acting in line with your values, while the feeling is still present, is what integrity looks like in practice.

If you try these steps and find you can’t keep boundaries, that isn’t a moral failure. It’s a sign to get help, which a later section covers.

What if you’ve already crossed the line?

Then the priority shifts to ending the secrecy, taking responsibility and deciding with clear eyes what comes next. Many couples recover from affairs, emotional or physical, but recovery requires specific things from the person who strayed, and shortcuts tend to backfire.

The psychologist John Gottman, writing with Nan Silver in What Makes Love Last?, describes betrayal as something that often builds from small, repeated moments of turning away from a partner and comparing them unfavorably with someone else, long before any single dramatic breach. That framing matters twice. It reminds the person who strayed that the affair rarely appeared from nowhere; and it reminds the hurt partner that rebuilding trust is about rebuilding thousands of small moments, not delivering a single apology.

The therapist Esther Perel adds a perspective that surprises people: for some who stray, the affair is less about leaving than about a longing to feel alive, which means the conversation afterward can become a chance to ask what both partners have stopped giving each other. That doesn’t make the betrayal smaller. It makes the repair conversation larger than the forensics.

Clinicians who work with infidelity tend to agree on several elements of recovery:

The outside connection ends, completely and visibly, rather than shrinking into a “friendship.” Disclosure is honest and as complete as the hurt partner needs, because drip-fed truths keep reopening the wound. The partner who strayed listens to anger, grief and repeated questions without defensiveness, understanding that these are part of processing and not an attack. Transparency increases for a period, with the hurt partner able to ask questions and check in. And both partners examine what the relationship was like before, without using that as an excuse.

The hurt partner, meanwhile, often experiences trauma-like symptoms: intrusive images, hypervigilance, sleeplessness, obsessive checking. Those are normal responses, not signs of weakness, and they ease with time, support and sometimes treatment. Making permanent decisions in the first weeks, when emotions are at their peak, tends to be unwise unless safety is at stake.

Can the relationship survive? Sometimes. Some couples report that, after the pain, they communicate better than ever; others discover that the relationship was finished before the affair and that the betrayal simply made it visible. Neither outcome is a failure of effort.

If you were the person who strayed, one last piece of blunt advice. Resist asking for forgiveness on a schedule. Forgiveness isn’t owed, and rushing it tells your partner their pain is an inconvenience.

How do you decide whether to stay or leave?

By weighing the relationship on its own merits, separate from the glow of the new person. A decision to leave made mainly because someone else seems exciting often falls apart once the new relationship becomes ordinary; a decision to stay made out of guilt alone can breed resentment. You want a choice you can respect in five years.

Social psychology offers a handy framework. In 1980 Caryl Rusbult proposed the investment model of commitment, which says how committed you feel depends on three things: your satisfaction with the relationship, the quality of your alternatives, and the size of your investments (time, shared history, children, property, friends). A strong outside attraction raises the apparent quality of alternatives and lowers satisfaction in comparison, which is why commitment can wobble. But notice that alternatives are judged by imagination, while satisfaction and investments are known quantities.

Here’s a quick way to use the model:

List what you value in your current relationship, truthfully, including what’s missing. List the investments you share and what would be lost or changed by leaving, including effects on children and family. Describe the alternative honestly: not the fantasy version, but the real, flawed, ordinary person, with their own history and baggage. Then ask whether your dissatisfaction predates the new attraction and whether it has been communicated.

Some distinctions help. A relationship with long-standing, unresolved issues that you’ve tried to fix may be genuinely over, and the new attraction simply gave you the courage to see it. A relationship that is basically sound but understimulated may be rescued by effort. A relationship with abuse or contempt is a different matter entirely; safety comes first.

Avoid making the decision while you’re at the peak of infatuation. Intense feelings distort risk and exaggerate the future. If possible, wait until your head has cleared, using the time-limited break discussed earlier. Talk to a therapist or someone you trust who isn’t invested in a particular outcome.

Also be cautious about advice from friends who either love your partner or dislike them; their perspective is filtered. And be wary of your own timeline pressure. Deciding quickly is not the same as deciding well.

When people regret these decisions, the most common reason is that they acted on the intensity of the moment without examining what they were running toward or from. Whatever you choose, aim for a decision you could explain honestly to both people involved.

When is it time to see a therapist?

When you’re stuck in the loop, when the secrecy is growing, or when the stress is harming your sleep, work or health. A therapist doesn’t tell you what to do. They help you sort out feelings, patterns and choices, and they can make hard conversations safer.

Individual therapy fits well if the attraction feels obsessive, if you’re ashamed and avoiding everyone, if you’ve been in similar situations before, or if you simply can’t tell what you want. Couples therapy fits if your relationship has been distant for a while, if trust has been damaged, or if you both want to rebuild. Some therapists see each partner separately at first, and the rules about confidentiality vary, so ask about them at the start.

Approaches with decent support for relationship distress include emotionally focused therapy, the Gottman Method and cognitive behavioral couples therapy. The evidence for any one of them specifically in the aftermath of attraction or infidelity is thinner than the marketing suggests, but couples therapy in general helps many couples with distress.

Seek help sooner for these red flags: persistent low mood or anxiety, heavy drinking to cope, thoughts of harming yourself or others, intense obsession with the other person, stalking or monitoring behavior, or any form of control or abuse in your relationship. If you feel unsafe with your partner, put safety first and seek specialist support.

If you’re having thoughts of suicide or self-harm, please reach out now. In the US, call or text 988; in Canada, call or text 9-8-8; in the UK and Ireland, Samaritans is on 116 123, and in Ireland Pieta is on 1800 247 247; in Australia, Lifeline is 13 11 14; in New Zealand, call or text 1737. In an emergency, call 911 (US and Canada), 999 (UK), 112 or 999 (Ireland), 000 (Australia) or 111 (New Zealand).

Finding a good fit matters. Ask potential therapists how they work with attraction, infidelity or commitment questions, whether they have couples training, and how they handle situations where partners want different outcomes. A primary care doctor (a GP in the UK, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand) can often refer you if you’re not sure where to begin.

It’s tempting to wait until things are clearer. Often the clarity comes from the conversation, not before it.

One small, practical step: write down three sentences tonight. What I feel. What I want. What I’m afraid of. Bring them to the first session, or to the conversation with your partner. They’re a decent compass when everything else spins.

FAQs about Falling in Love with Someone Else While in a Relationship

Is it normal to fall in love with someone else when you’re in a relationship?

Yes, it’s common. Attraction doesn’t check relationship status, and research on brain systems for desire, attraction and attachment suggests that you can feel strongly attached to one person while feeling romantic pull toward another. Reliable figures on how often it happens are hard to find, because studies define it differently. What matters is how you respond: honesty with yourself, limits on contact and an audit of what’s missing at home protect people far better than guilt or secrecy. The feeling itself isn’t a moral verdict.

Does falling for someone else mean I don’t love my partner?

Not necessarily. Love for a long-term partner and intense attraction to someone new involve different emotional systems, and they can coexist. The attraction might reflect novelty, unmet needs or a life transition rather than the end of your love. Sometimes, though, it highlights feelings that had already faded. A useful question is whether you were already dissatisfied or distant before this person appeared. If yes, the outside attraction may be revealing something real. If no, it may be a temporary collision of opportunity and curiosity.

How long do these feelings last?

It varies. Dorothy Tennov estimated that limerence, the consuming form of being in love, most often lasts roughly 18 months to 3 years, with a wide range. Without contact, hope and uncertainty to feed it, intense attraction frequently fades faster, sometimes within weeks or months. Constant contact, mixed signals and fantasy keep it alive. If you cut private contact and reinvest in your relationship, many people notice the intensity easing gradually rather than switching off at once.

Is an emotional affair really cheating?

Many couples and clinicians treat it as a serious breach, though definitions differ between couples. Shirley Glass defined an affair by three features: emotional intimacy, secrecy and sexual chemistry, with no physical contact required. People often say emotional betrayal hurts as much as, or more than, sexual betrayal, because it undermines the sense of being each other’s closest confidant. The most practical test is whether you would behave the same way if your partner were watching. If not, it has probably crossed a line for your relationship.

Should I tell my partner I have feelings for someone else?

It depends on how far things have gone and why you’d tell. A brief attraction you’ve already put at a distance may be better handled by discussing what feels missing in the relationship. If the feelings are persistent, or if secrecy and intimacy are involved, honest disclosure is usually needed, ideally with a therapist’s help. Avoid telling your partner just to relieve your own guilt, and avoid sharing graphic details about the other person. Prepare for anger and grief rather than quick forgiveness.

How do I get over someone I can’t be with?

Limit or end contact, mute or unfollow, and avoid private conversations that keep the connection warm. Stop replaying fantasies; name them and redirect your attention. Lean on friends who support your commitments, and spend time on activities that give you energy. Expect a flat or sad stretch, like withdrawal, before the pull loosens. Give it weeks to months and review how you feel at a set date. If you can’t hold boundaries or the preoccupation is damaging your life, a therapist can help.

Can a relationship survive one partner falling for someone else?

Yes, many do, especially when the situation is faced honestly and the outside connection ends. Couples who survive tend to talk about what each of them has been missing, rebuild small daily moments of connection and accept that trust returns slowly. John Gottman and Nan Silver describe betrayal as something that often grows out of repeated small moments of turning away, which suggests that repair needs to happen at the same small scale. Some relationships do not survive, particularly where problems predated the attraction or where deceit continues.

When should I leave my relationship for someone else?

Rarely on the strength of new feelings alone. Caryl Rusbult’s investment model suggests weighing your satisfaction, the real quality of the alternative and what you’ve invested together. Many clinicians advise leaving only if you already believed the relationship wasn’t right before the new person appeared, and if you’ve tried honestly to address the problems. Infatuation tends to fade into ordinary life, and decisions made at its peak are often regretted. If safety, abuse or contempt are involved, the calculation is different and leaving may be necessary regardless.

Bibliography

• Aron, A., Fisher, H., Mashek, D. J., Strong, G., Li, H., & Brown, L. L. (2005). Reward, motivation, and emotion systems associated with early-stage intense romantic love. Journal of Neurophysiology, 94(1), 327-337.
• Fisher, H. E. (1998). Lust, attraction, and attachment in mammalian reproduction. Human Nature, 9(1), 23-52.
• Glass, S. P., & Staeheli, J. C. (2003). Not “just friends”: Rebuilding trust and recovering your sanity after infidelity. Free Press.
• Gottman, J., & Silver, N. (2012). What makes love last? How to build trust and avoid betrayal. Simon & Schuster.
• Perel, E. (2017). The state of affairs: Rethinking infidelity. Harper.
• Rusbult, C. E. (1980). Commitment and satisfaction in romantic associations: A test of the investment model. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 16(2), 172-186.
• Simpson, J. A., Gangestad, S. W., & Lerma, M. (1990). Perception of physical attractiveness: Mechanisms involved in the maintenance of romantic relationships. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 59(6), 1192-1201.
• Tennov, D. (1979). Love and limerence: The experience of being in love. Stein and Day.