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She loves too much, hopes too long, stays too often – and only understands at 55 why her love life feels like an endless loop.
Case Study: "Anna's Story"
I am 55 years old when I allow myself to truly think this thought for the first time.
Maybe there is a common thread running through my love life. Maybe it's not a coincidence. I don't say it dramatically – more quietly, almost matter-of-factly: "I don't think I've ever had a truly good relationship."
And yet I am not someone who has failed in life. I raised a daughter, built a career, maintained friendships, organized my life. People describe me as warm-hearted, reliable, and funny. Men were often quickly drawn to me. And yet – or perhaps precisely because of this – my love life played out like a series of eerily similar stories.
In my early twenties, I became pregnant. The man by my side was initially enthusiastic. He talked about family, about how much he was looking forward to our child, about how we would make it work together. But even during the pregnancy, something shifted. He became quieter, more distant, less reliable. After my daughter was born, he stayed for only a few months. Then he left. Without a big argument. Without any real explanation.
I was left behind – with a baby in my arms and the nagging question of what I had done wrong. I pulled myself together and kept functioning. I completed my training, organized daily life, took care of my daughter. And I fell in love again. And again. And again.
It almost always started the same way: intense conversations, closeness, the feeling of finally being truly seen. Men said things like:
"I've never met a woman like you." "Everything feels special with you." "I don't want to be without you anymore."
And almost every time, the break came later. Messages got shorter. Meetings were postponed. Conversations about the future were shut down. Some men began to look down on me, made dismissive remarks, took my affection for granted. I stayed anyway.
I explained myself, made an effort, adapted. I hoped. I fought. I thought that if I were just patient enough, understanding enough, lovable enough – then he would stay. Then something would change. But in the end, they always left.
One relationship stands out to this day. I was in my mid-forties when I met a man who was different. He was attentive, reliable, present. He genuinely wanted to be with me. He talked about a shared future, about everyday life, about building something together. And I felt something that unsettled me: restlessness.
I started feeling suffocated. I looked for faults. I felt an inner emptiness where I should have been happy. Back then I said: "Something is missing." Today I know: it wasn't love that was missing. It was the tension – the hoping, the uncertainty, the emotional highs and lows that I had apparently mistaken for love.
It was me who ended that relationship.
Only much later did I begin to see a pattern. And it led me back to my childhood – to my father.
My father was a difficult man. Egocentric, moody, emotionally unpredictable. There were moments when he was loving: he played with me, cracked jokes, brought me small gifts, made me feel special.
And then there were the other times: coldness, indifference, sharp words, being ignored. I never knew which version of him I would encounter.
When I was eight years old, he left our family. Contact didn't break off entirely, but it remained contradictory. Sometimes he sought my closeness, sometimes he pushed me away. And I – the child – kept hoping that this time I would manage it, that he would finally truly love me.
Psychodynamic Explanation: When Old Patterns Drive New Relationships
From a psychodynamic perspective, love relationships are rarely "coincidence." Rather, we seek – mostly unconsciously – what is familiar to us. Even when it was painful.
Anna learned early: love is unpredictable. Closeness can be withdrawn at any moment. I have to make an effort to be loved. If I just give enough, maybe the other person will stay.
This inner relationship script – often referred to as attachment patterns or internal working models – developed in the relationship with her father. The child Anna experienced a father who was emotionally inconsistent: sometimes loving, sometimes rejecting. Such experiences leave deep marks. They create a particular form of attachment: a mixture of longing and insecurity, of hope and fear.
Later, in romantic relationships, this pattern repeats as a transference reaction: unconsciously, the partner becomes a projection screen for old feelings. Men who are emotionally unavailable, who respond ambivalently, who offer closeness and then withdraw it again – they feel "familiar" to Anna. Not because they do her good, but because they match the old internal image of what love looks like.
This also explains why she experienced the reliable man as "boring." Psychologically speaking, what was missing wasn't love – it was the old emotional drama. The relationship felt unfamiliar, almost foreign. For people with such relationship histories, stability can initially trigger insecurity, because the nervous system has become accustomed to tension.
Many affected individuals unconsciously try to "heal" the old deficit in later relationships: If this emotionally distant man finally truly loves me, then the old pain will be overcome. But this inner script almost always fails – because the very choice of partner is already being driven by the old pattern.
The Way Out: Awareness, Clarity, and Inner Work
The good news: relationship patterns are not set in stone. But they don't change through hope alone – they change through awareness and inner work.
A central step is honestly recognizing one's own dynamic:
One important practical aspect is communication and self-positioning: anyone who wants a committed relationship should say so clearly and early on. Not demandingly, but honestly. Those who seek commitment must not settle for "half-measures," ambiguity, or emotional games – hoping that the other person will eventually make up their mind.
Because those who constantly put their own needs aside unconsciously send a message: My boundaries are negotiable. My needs are secondary.
And exactly these dynamics often attract people who are themselves not ready for commitment.
Yet behavioral change alone is often not enough when the roots lie deep in childhood. That is why it is frequently helpful to work through the old relationship with the father therapeutically. Not to assign blame – but to gain inner clarity:
The child within me was never supposed to have to earn love. My father's ambivalence had nothing to do with my worth. I no longer have to fight for affection today.
Only when these inner beliefs become truly emotionally anchored does the choice of partner begin to shift. Suddenly, different people become attractive: those who are present, emotionally available, and committed. And what once seemed "boring" suddenly feels like safety.
Closing Thought
Anna's story represents many women – and men. People who keep ending up with similar partners and eventually ask themselves whether something is wrong with them.
The answer is: No.
But there is an inner story that wants to be understood. Those who begin to recognize, feel, and change this story have a real chance of breaking out of old patterns. Not through perfect partners – but through a new relationship with themselves.
And sometimes, this new story begins with just one single, courageous sentence:
"I don't want half a love anymore."
About the author: Dr. med. Stefan Woinoff, a Munich-based specialist in psychosomatic medicine and psychotherapy, excels as the 50plus-Club relationship expert. He specializes in coaching singles toward meaningful partnerships and, as an action therapy specialist and author, regularly publishes insightful articles to guide people on their path to authentic relationships.
Photo: © InsideCreativeHouse / stock.adobe.com
Editor, 19.02.2026
