They couldn’t stay away from each other.
From the beginning, it felt electric—the kind of connection that pulls your attention away from everything else. Texts were constant. Time together felt intoxicating. There was chemistry, desire, and an intensity that made the world feel sharper and more alive.
And yet, something was missing.
Whenever the conversation drifted toward feelings, it shifted back to humor or flirtation. When questions about the future surfaced, they were met with vagueness. No one said they didn’t care—quite the opposite—but closeness stayed just out of reach, and certainty never arrived.
This is the kind of relationship Sternberg’s Triangular Theory of Love helps us understand.
Sternberg proposed that love is made up of three components: passion, intimacy, and commitment. In this relationship, passion dominated the triangle. It was powerful and undeniable. But the other two sides—emotional intimacy and commitment—never had the chance to grow.
Passion can feel like love because it’s intense. It’s physical attraction, longing, excitement, and emotional charge. It makes people feel chosen and alive. But passion alone doesn’t provide safety. It doesn’t tell us where we stand when the intensity cools or when vulnerability is required.
Over time, cracks begin to show.
Moments of closeness are followed by uncertainty. Desire exists, but emotional depth feels risky. The relationship feels meaningful, yet unstable—like standing too close to a fire that provides warmth but no shelter.
Without intimacy, partners aren’t fully known by one another. Conversations stay on the surface, not because there’s nothing deeper to share, but because closeness feels vulnerable. Without commitment, there’s no shared agreement about direction or longevity. The connection exists in the present moment, but the future remains undefined.
Sternberg called this infatuated love—a connection fueled by passion without the grounding presence of intimacy or commitment. These relationships often burn brightly and intensely, but they also create anxiety. People begin to wonder whether the chemistry is mutual in the same way, or whether they’re hoping passion will eventually turn into something more stable.
This is often where therapy enters the story.
In therapy, the goal isn’t to shut down desire or minimize the power of the connection. Instead, the work is about slowing the relationship down enough to understand what’s really happening beneath the intensity.
A therapist might help someone notice how passion has become a substitute for closeness—or how emotional distance keeps the relationship exciting but unsafe. Together, they explore questions like: What makes intimacy feel risky? What does commitment represent? What am I hoping this relationship will give me that I haven’t had before?
As emotional awareness grows, intimacy has space to emerge. Not the kind driven by chemistry, but the kind built through honesty, vulnerability, and consistency. And with intimacy comes clarity—about whether commitment is something both partners are willing and able to offer.
Sometimes the triangle begins to balance. Passion remains, but it’s no longer frantic. It becomes anchored by emotional connection and intentional choice.
Other times, the clarity leads to a different ending—one where the relationship is released, not because it wasn’t meaningful, but because it couldn’t become whole.
Passion alone isn’t wrong or shallow. It’s an essential part of love. But when it stands alone, it often leaves people feeling both drawn in and deeply uncertain.
Love thrives not just on intensity, but on connection, safety, and choice. When passion is supported by intimacy and commitment, it no longer burns out—it becomes something that can endure.
In Fayetteville, GA The Pursuit Counseling is a group of professionals rooted in theory driven, customized counseling plans for our community near Peachtree City and Trilith Studios.
