Emotionally F*@ked — Why You’re Falling for Taken Men
All the good guys are taken.
There comes a time, in any friend group, where you will hear the above — sometimes jokingly, at times, despairingly (because who wants to find themselves falling for someone already taken?) — but nevertheless present. It’s an angst we’ve all, at some time or another, dealt with, as is lusting after the unattainable taken guy or gal.
And yet, it seems to me that, as is often the case, we’re asking the wrong question.
Rather than decrying the fact that all “good guys” are taken, maybe it’s time we asked ourselves…
Why do I only lust over unavailable guys?
Because that could well be the case.
Studies show that men who are in a relationship receive an “attractiveness boost” from being in said relationship. Apparently, it’s something to do with the man in question receiving the approval of other women before you, which must mean he’s something worthwhile, right? Because we are largely social animals deep down, we defer to this phenomenon called “mate-choice copying”, which is the science-y version of “I’ll have what she’s having”.
Of course, there are rules, even in craving someone else’s partner (how ironic is that?) — the man ought to be in a relationship that’s serious, though not unbreakable. He needs to be seen as available, despite an initial hurdle (e.g. the current missus). Men who were married, or otherwise perceived as “in a committed relationship” were found to be far less attractive to the women in the study.
But why are unavailable people more attractive?
Once again, the answer lies in the primate part of our brain. Aside from the effect of “mate-choice copying”, the way we interact with other “taken” humanoids is hormone-led. People who are in happy, committed relationships will emit oxytocin (aka “the love hormone”) and vasopressin (which is basically a hormone saying “this human’s nice”).
Fun fact: did you know that the way our (specifically, women’s) bodies process vasopressin may be directly related to our likelihood to cheat on a lover? What’s more, we inherit our vasopressin receptors from our parents, which means that if the people in your ancestry cheated, then you may be genetically predisposed to it. Not an excuse, mind.
Basically, people in good relationship appear happy, and that, in turn, makes us happy also, because happiness is contagious. It’s also a drug, so we begin mooching off that person’s happiness, to substitute our own dwindling reserves of oxytocin.
Last but not least, being in a relationship signals reproductive success to our fellow human animals. When you’re in a committed relationship, you’re basically telling the world that you are desirable, yes, but also that you possess key reproductive factors such as fidelity, trustworthiness, and general, dependability.
Besides, people in relationships are holding the ultimate trump card — they’re no longer desperate for sexual interaction. And uncomfortable as the thought may be, other people can see that. And want it. While we may imagine we’ve advanced and evolved, in truth, we are painfully childish and small-minded. We perceive that someone (who is emotionally unavailable) doesn’t want us, so we stomp our feet, and demand to know — why?
Obviously, that opens a whole other can of worms, namely, why are emotionally unavailable people more attractive?
That’s ultimately the case here, isn’t it? When talking about “taken” guys (or gals) we’re not talking about people who happened to be in a miserable relationship, found their way out, and then started a new relationship with us.
Unfortunately not. Mostly, when we do embark on an affair with someone already taken, it’s on the presupposition they will stay in their existing relationship. And that we, in turn, will be miserable.
Attraction of the chase — why do we crave emotionally unavailable partners?
Naturally, there’s no rule stating that only taken partners will be unavailable. To assume so would be small-minded. Often, we enter in perfectly fair, lawful relationships with partners who haven’t the slightest intention to open up to us emotionally. But in the interest of our argument, let’s focus on “side” relationships.
Affairs. Straying from ye ole marital home.
Largely, the motivation is the same. To the person seeking out emotional disenchantment through these partners, the reasons are similar, with one notable difference: hooking up with someone who’s taken allows you to shield and ignore a lot of your own issues with intimacy. Because this person will never be able to give you what you deserve.
So naturally, instead of fixing the bomb ticking inside your own head, you’d much rather trick yourself into believing you’re “in a relationship” without having to deal with all the nasty bits.
Daddy-chasers
“Daddy issues” may be a cutesy term used more as a joke, but from a developmental perspective, we are doomed to chase the same relationship we exhibited with our parents. At least, to a certain extent.
As children, we believe we can learn everything we need to know about human relationships from our progenitors, so naturally, we mirror their own relationship, while also looking for our own. Or more concretely, lack of. When you grow up with a disinterested or emotionally distant parent, you grow up to crave that same attention, as an adult. Because — and here’s the really awful bit — you’ve been raised to think that attachment type is normal.
Even desirable. And in affairs with “taken” (typically older) men, we find just that. A man who is interested…just not enough. Who maybe likes you well-enough when you’re together, but who, when all is said and done, can do fine on his own.
Ghosts of relationships past
If we’re not, miraculously, looking for our fathers, we might instead be looking for our manipulative ex. This just gets better and better, I know.
We may learn a lot about attachment as children, but we’re still learning as teenagers and young adults. In fact, in many ways, we’re in a more dangerous spot now than we were as children, because we’re venturing into the unknown. Learning to build our very own relationships with other people, unencumbered (but also unprotected) by the involvement of supervising adults.
Which is to say, if our first romantic experiences veer towards the unhealthy, we may end up repeating them. Because that’s what we think relationships should be like. Experimenting with our first relationships around the mark of 16–17, we bring a lot of insecurities and fears to the table.
Am I worthy?
Am I as interesting/fun/courageous as I thought? Or am I just a waste of time?
And while we may be lucky enough to find a partner who understands those fears, and helps us through them, the opposite is also possible.
That we encounter someone who (consciously or no) feeds all of our deepest, nastiest insecurities.
When you believe you don’t have much to say, you’ll veer towards partners who talk over you.
When you believe you’re unworthy of love, you tend towards partners who exaggerate their affection.
Now, that might seem like a cure, but it’s not. Because they’re not encouraging you to work through your kinks, they’re actively inhibiting you.
Only silence can help you nurture a voice. Only the absence of constant reassurance can convince you that you are enough.
We think we can save them.
Sure, it’s appealing to think we are the cure this other person’s been looking for. Kind and compassionate, though trapped in a dysfunctional relationship — and we alone can change that. We can help them, and that’s a really compelling reason to put yourself in danger — because human beings actually want to help others.
It’s also deeply delusional.
First, it gravely underestimates the resilience of the human psyche. If someone’s engaged in toxic behavior (for themselves, or for others), they’re not doing it because they’ve got nothing better to attend to. Nor because they think it’s a right thing to do. They know it’s not. Thus, simply telling them to stop isn’t going to achieve much.
Besides, the “damage” they’re most trying to escape isn’t, at the end of the day, their existing relationship. It’s the host of toxic personality traits that are pushing them to cheat, to begin with. And that kind of change can only come from within (and usually needs to be triggered by a fundamental shift).
How do we stop?
The answer, alas, varies from person to person, but I think it starts not with why you love distant, unavailable people. But rather, with why you don’t love yourself.
Who you are and what you deserve is determined not by your view of self, but by the value we contribute to others. So maybe you start by looking at the people who love you, and asking yourself — would they be content to see you in this relationship? Or would you be disappointing them?
If the answer is yeah, that’s a good indicator you’re down the wrong path.
What would your life look like with this “taken, yet irresistible” person? And could you be content, knowing it was the last relationship you ever experienced?
We often persist in this mistaken notion that we’ll have more time. So what if hooking up with so-and-so turns out to be a disaster? I’ll get over it. I’ll meet someone better.
Except you might not. And could you really die, knowing you were some coward’s lousy bit-on-the-side?
Sure, it serves to prepare and plan for the future. But I find, whenever on the brink of a conflicting decision, that it helps to ask myself -
Would I want this to be the last thing I do?
Because if not, what the hell are you doing it for?
