The Romance of Distance

Time and again, both the wise and the foolish have spoken about yearning, about loving from afar. Philosophers, theologians, ardent devotees, and poets have all mused on how, sometimes, cherishing someone from a distance and waiting for them can feel more blissful than actually being with them.

Neuroscience explains this phenomenon through arrival fallacy. This refers to the idea that dopamine—the neurotransmitter responsible for motivation and pleasure—is released in anticipation of something rather than in its attainment. Once a long-awaited goal is achieved, dopamine levels drop, leaving a person feeling unexpectedly empty.

Someone who longed to be with their beloved, for instance, might find themselves feeling strangely indifferent once that desire is fulfilled. This concept has also found a place in spirituality, particularly in Sufism and Vaishnavism, which speaks of how yearning for the divine is often more intoxicating than attaining union with God.

Many couples talk about how their relationship changed after marriage, how the passion and effort that once defined their love seem to fade. It is as if marriage itself marks the completion of a goal, after which the pursuit, the excitement, and the longing all dissipate.

A similar feeling often follows major life events. We hear of people feeling numb after accomplishing something they deeply desired. It is simply a “now what?” moment, a sense of emptiness that lingers after a mission is complete.

Infatuation, too, thrives on distance. There are those who find quiet joy in merely observing the person they admire—never confessing their feelings, content instead with fleeting moments: a brief meeting of eyes, an accidental brush of hands, the lingering trace of perfume as they pass by.

If it’s a celebrity crush, people can spend years, even decades, dreaming of someone they may never meet.

It is the waiting, the yearning, that turns people into poets and artists, not the fulfillment of desire.

Perhaps there is a kind of sweetness in longing. Of course, it shouldn’t consume a person, turning into obsession or unhealthy patterns. But there is a quiet charm in knowing that someone you desire is close yet out of reach. And in a world so focused on achieving, acquiring, and winning, perhaps longing itself is an experience worth savoring.

Maybe love, in its purest form, isn’t about possession but about presence,whether near or far. And maybe, just maybe, the ache of longing is not a curse, but a quiet kind of grace, a reminder that some things are most beautiful when they remain just out of reach.