The Cost of Loving Too Much
I have spent years, perhaps decades, believing in the power of thoughtfulness. In relationships, I poured myself into the smallest details—remembering birthdays, planning special occasions, and choosing gifts that spoke directly to the other person’s soul. I never spared expense, not just financially, but emotionally, mentally, and, at times, physically. I would move mountains to ensure that those I loved felt seen, valued, and appreciated, however, the more I gave, the more I realized that reciprocity was never guaranteed.
Psychologists call this the “reciprocity norm”—the social expectation that kindness and generosity should be returned in kind. It is an unspoken contract, a balance of give and take that, when honored, strengthens bonds. Sadly, in reality, not everyone abides by this rule. Behavioral psychology tells us that some people—especially those accustomed to receiving without giving—develop what is known as “entitlement bias.” Meaning when you consistently go above and beyond, your effort becomes expected rather than appreciated.
Thus, I found myself in a cruel paradox: the more reliable my thoughtfulness, the less it was valued. My generosity was no longer a gift but a certainty—something taken for granted. The first few times, I brushed it off. “Maybe she is just bad at expressing gratitude,” I told myself. “Maybe finances are tight for her.”
However, over time, the absence of effort from the other side spoke volumes. It was never about the money; it was about the intent, the thought, the energy.
I believe, when someone values you, it is not about how much they spend—it is about how much they consider you. Even a handwritten note, a planned experience, or a simple act of recognition can mean more than any expensive gift. Yet, for me, those moments were few and far between.
At first, I questioned myself. Was I expecting too much? Was I being materialistic?
However, the truth hit me hard: I was giving from a full heart to those who only knew how to take.
Research on relationship equity theory suggests that relationships thrive on a sense of fairness. So, when one person consistently gives more than they receive, resentment builds.
Thus, when the taker fails to acknowledge or appreciate the giver, it leads to emotional exhaustion.
I became drained—drained of effort, of hope, of belief in reciprocity. The realization left me disillusioned.
The most painful lesson in all of this? Love, when unreciprocated, becomes a slow act of self-destruction.
I have now reached a point of reflection, standing at the crossroads between bitterness and wisdom. I refuse to let disappointment harden me, but I also refuse to be blind to patterns.
I will never again be the man who gives endlessly without regard for his own needs. Love should be a two-way street, not a never-ending performance of proving one’s worth.
So, to those who have walked the same road—to the men and women who have given their all, only to be met with indifference—I see you. I know the exhaustion, the heartbreak, the quiet moments of questioning whether you are enough, however, let me tell you this: You are enough. Your love is enough. It just was not placed in the hands of someone who knew its worth.
Moving forward, I choose balance. I choose mutual effort. Most importantly, I choose myself, because, in the end, the greatest love story we will ever experience is the one we write with ourselves.
Ciao!
Damien
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