Bad love.

The desire for possession is only another form of the desire to endure; it is this that comprises the impotent delirium of love. No human being, even the most passionately loved and passionately loving, is ever in our possession. On the pitiless earth where lovers are often separated in death and are always born divided, the total possession of another human being and absolute communion throughout an entire lifetime are impossible dreams. The desire for possession is insatiable, to such a point that it can survive even love itself. To love, therefore, is to sterilize the person one loves. The shamefaced suffering of the abandoned lover is not so much due to being no longer loved as to knowing that the other partner can and must love again. In the final analysis, every man devoured by the overpowering desire to endure and possess wishes that the people whom he has loved were either sterile or dead.

—Albert Camus, The Rebel

The hope that we may meet the right one is about as absurd as falling for a tree. The seeker makes a list of things he wishes for in a partner: "someone who can make me laugh", "someone with whom I can share the good and bad times together", "someone who values me above everything else"—essentially, he wishes for something dead, which in his complete possession can he then use for self-gratification whenever such situations arise that require it to make him laugh, or him it, or share in his or its joy or sorrow. One will be amazed to know how heartily the dead can laugh. And since we all seek, how then are we to find? I've got a little plush dog. Whenever I feel unloved I pick it up, flap its ears, wave its paws, and put its nose against mine. It cheers me up everytime. Unfortunately, nobody is responsible for the way we love poorly. That is because it is easier to love and be loved by the dead, for they will never shatter the ideals we hold in them, unlike those alive who always seem to break our hearts somehow.