Why 'Lightning Bolt' Love Isn't Essential for a Happy Marriage
The first time Sarah encountered her future husband, she described him as 'perfectly nice'. Not strikingly handsome, not magnetic, and certainly not the type to set the world ablaze. Just... nice. Exactly the sort of man, she confessed, that her mother would have selected for her.
She married him, and twelve years later, with two children and a mortgage, she labels their union as 'the best decision I ever made'. Yet here's the twist: Sarah has never experienced being 'in love' with her husband.
'Not once. Not even close,' she admits. 'I love him deeply. I respect him. I fancy him. I genuinely like him. But that mad, obsessive, can't-eat, can't-sleep sensation I had with my ex at 22? Never. And honestly? I think that's partly why we work.'
Is 'Lightning Bolt' Love All It's Cracked Up to Be?
Sarah's narrative is more prevalent than many assume—and far less discussed. In a society saturated with romantic ideals, confessing that you've never been in love with the person you've chosen to build a life with can feel shameful. It suggests something must be amiss.
But is it? More critically, does being 'in love' predict relationship success? Or have we been sold a fantasy that may cause more harm than good?
The Difference Between Loving Someone and Being 'In Love'
Psychologists differentiate between two primary types of love. 'Passionate love' is what most refer to when saying they're 'in love'—an intense, all-consuming infatuation marked by obsessive thoughts, physical longing, euphoria, and a degree of delusion. Flaws vanish as the person is idealised.
'Companionate love' is the deep affection, attachment, and commitment that evolves over time. It may be less thrilling, but it's more dependable and, as many attest, ultimately more satisfying.
Passionate love typically endures between 18 months and three years. Afterwards, the neurochemicals responsible for the butterflies—dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin—stabilise. The obsession dissipates, leaving either companionate love or little at all.
This raises an uneasy query: if being 'in love' is transient, does it matter if you felt it initially?
Five Reasons a Great Relationship Can Exist Without 'In Love' Feelings
Here are five arguments supporting the idea that you can have a superb relationship without ever having been 'in love'. (Note the emphasis on 'in'; love is essential, but it needn't be the knee-trembling variety.)
Compatibility Outlasts Chemistry
Couples reporting the highest long-term satisfaction often share values, communication styles, and life goals—not necessarily initial passion. If you desire a partner who remains your person at 70, shared values outweigh how they made your stomach flip in 2019.
Calm Is Not the Same as Boring
Our culture has alarmingly romanticised anxiety in relationships. If you're not perpetually worried about losing them, are you truly in love? If it feels effortless, can it be genuine? These are perilous notions.
Healthy love should feel secure, not destabilising. What some misinterpret as a lack of passion is often the absence of unhealthy attachment patterns.
Respect and Liking Are Massively Underrated
John Gottman, the foremost researcher on relationship success, has spent decades studying what makes couples thrive. His conclusion? The single greatest predictor of lasting happiness is 'fondness and admiration'—genuinely liking and respecting your partner. Not passion or chemistry, but liking, not love.
Attraction Can Grow
Many in relationships that began with minimal passion report that attraction can significantly deepen over time. Shared experiences, vulnerability, trust, and humour serve as aphrodisiacs. The person who didn't quicken your pulse at 30 might become your complete devotion at 50, as time alters what we find attractive.
The Absence of Drama Is a Good Thing
Passionate love and relationship instability frequently coincide. The intensity that makes early romance intoxicating often stems from negative elements—anxiety, 'flaky' behaviour, and uncertainty about reciprocation.
You feel euphoric when they finally reply to a text because they've kept you waiting for days. The reliable, respectful individual who follows through might not inspire a fluttery stomach, but long-term, they're a far superior bet.
'I Chose with My Head, Not My Heart and I've Never Regretted It'
Emma, 41, a marketing director, has been married for 14 years. 'I'd been in love twice before meeting Daniel. Properly in love—checking my phone every 30 seconds and feeling physically ill when they didn't text back. Both times ended in absolute carnage.
When I met Daniel through a friend, I found him great company. Attractive in a quiet way, but funny and decent. No fireworks or lightning bolts—I wasn't swept off my feet. When I told friends I was marrying, they asked if I was sure because I was so calm.
But I recalled thinking this is what it feels like when someone isn't messing with your head. This is safety. I made a deliberate choice to give it a proper chance. Fourteen years on, we have three kids, a house we love, and a genuinely happy life. Do I sometimes wonder if I should have felt mad passion for him? Occasionally. But I also remember the anxiety, drama, and heartbreak of those other relationships. I'll take calm and content over that every time.'
'I Feel a Constant Low-Level Disappointment—Like I've Missed Out'
Molly, 36, made a 'sensible' choice marrying Tom but now regrets it. 'When I met Tom, I was 33 and exhausted from dating the wrong men. He was the opposite of everything I'd always gone for. Decent values rather than flashy. Intelligent rather than good-looking. Plus, he adored me.
My friends were all married, pregnant, or on their second or third child. I felt left behind. He was a sensible choice, but our wedding was beautiful. I loved him, just wasn't in love with him. I told myself that was immature and for teenagers.
The first year was fine, but then cracks appeared. I felt restlessness. We were trying for a baby, something I'd long wanted, but I craved adventure. A new guy at work, whom I found attractive and sensed reciprocation, touched my arm innocently, and I felt more in that split second than in years.
I feel trapped by my own practicality. I've started to resent Tom, which is absurd because he's done nothing wrong. He loves me utterly, but I don't feel that pull. I'm secretly taking the contraceptive pill because I'm uncertain about this marriage. I feel a constant low-level disappointment, like I've missed out.
When I watch friends clearly in love with their partners, I envy them. I worry something fundamental is missing. I'm intelligent and know lust fades and friendship matters. But I think having felt intensely in love keeps you going when life gets dull. You recall how you felt, and it sustains you.'
