This post deviates slightly from my traditional entries which focus primarily on fashion, but, as I am freelancing alongside my MA at CSM I am going to use my home-blog as a lifestyle bureau which will focus on the questions I have personally throughout my day.

Yesterday I found out some news which threw me unexpectedly into a state of complete shock and without even a second thought, I spent the entire day moping around my London flat and avoided human contact at all costs. I was almost forcing myself to feel miserable, rather than my emotions making me feel that way – I guess, you could argue, it is a form of very weak Sadomasochism.

In my sado-state, I started to watch a film called ‘Burton & Taylor’ which explored the fiery love story between Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. I became instantly entranced by both the passion behind their history together but mostly (and I don’t want to sound like Carrie Bradshaw but…) “I couldn’t help but wonder” are humans becoming Sadomasochists in Love?

Burton and Taylor shared a turbulent relationship, through which they managed to get married and divorced twice. When the couple decided to work together once more on a play called ‘Private Lives’, spectators bought tickets just to see whether the pair would get back together for the third time. Alcoholism, abuse and drugs summarised their relationship, and after much pain, Taylor stopped turning up for their performance and Burton went to Las Vegas to marry his then-girlfriend Sally Hay.

One of Burton’s theatrical mentors, the Shakespearean actor and director Sir Anthony Quayle, was convinced that the strain imposed on Burton by the reunion with Taylor destroyed his failing health. He died from a brain haemorrhage eight months later. When Taylor was informed of his death, she fainted and swore she would never love anyone the same way again – despite being married and divorced eight different times!

This story transfixes me – I am obsessed by their irrational love and the pain that came to characterise their relationship, but I am in another way jealous of the intimacy and the very fact that I personally have never experienced anything so consuming. Does that make my need for love Sadomasochist?

According to Psychology Today, Sadomasochism can be best explained as follows:

Sadomasochism can be defined as the giving or receiving of pleasure, often sexual, from the infliction or reception of pain or humiliation. It can feature as an enhancement to sexual pleasure, or, in some cases, as a substitute or sine qua non. The infliction of pain is used to incite sexual pleasure, while the simulation of violence can serve to form and express attachment.

Interestingly, PT also quotes:

Consensual sadomasochism should not be confounded with acts of sexual aggression. Moreover, while sadomasochists seek out pain and humiliation in the context of love and sex, they do not do so in other situations and dislike simple, unfettered violence or abuse as much as the next person.

This is exactly why my question is centred around whether we are Sadomasochists in LOVE – not in LIFE. Put simply, in a modern world where gender roles are changing and transforming, are we still satisfied by the traditional “comfortable” family vibe where the relationship is founded on loyalty, or do we now crave a more passion-pain fuelled future?

I decided to look for answers from close-friend and Social Psychologist Catherine Talbot who focuses her research primarily on self-harm and the role of social media in promoting eating disorders. She comments:

In regards to pain, I personally relate it to self-harm. It somehow gives you control over one little thing when everything else is so dynamic. Or maybe, as humans, we are in a state of constant doubt – we aren’t good enough, “I don’t deserve this”, and thus unconsciously we make decisions or take actions which are damaging to ourselves.

Much in the same way that the most common excuse of self-harm is to regain control of our lives, I think we crave pain in love as a way of controlling our destiny with that person. Psychology tells us that our brain craves certainty, as a sense of uncertainty about the future generates a strong threat or ‘alert sense’ in your limbic system. Your brain detects something is wrong, and your ability to focus on other issues diminishes. Your brain doesn’t like uncertainty – it’s like a type of pain, something to be avoided. “Certainty on the other hand feels rewarding, and we tend to steer toward it, even when it might be better for us to remain uncertain.” (Click for more)

However this doesn’t help us explain why relationships such as Marilyn Monroe’s and Bobby Kennedy’s are glamourised in a fashion that makes readers crave the same type of love shared between Burton and Taylor – what we are in fact craving is uncertainty and pain, not loyalty and consistency which we as humans are programmed to want to attain. Yet, we can’t ignore couples such as Beyonce and Jay Z and the Beckhams who hit headlines for the very reason that they are the “perfect pairs”. I worry that I care far too little about them and find the turmoil much more gripping.

If you have ever started an argument pointlessly or enjoy the chase, like feeling empowered or as though the cards are in your favour (anything which denotes an uncertain-unhealthy relationship) then you could theoretically be considered a Masochist of Love – much in the same way I am. After numerous failing relationships and flings, and hitting ‘rock bottom’, the tables have turned and I now remain reserved and ruthless whilst enjoying the pain of rejection or abandonment. In a kind of sickening way, it reminds you that you’re alive – even if it did inevitably kill Richard Burton. I stayed in bed all day yesterday for the simple fact that I wanted to feel hopeless – yet, when I questioned myself later “Are you really this depressed about the situation?” – I wasn’t whatsoever.

It is a natural emotion to have those days where you enjoy doing nothing but to put yourself through pointless pain struck me as Sadomasochist and made me question to what extent do we lust for a tumultuous addictive relationship over a stable, secure one?

As Elizabeth Taylor best summarises:

“I was a fool to marry so often,” she said. “If I had my time over again, I would never do that. The truth is I now don’t give a damn about most of those men. Richard is the only one I truly loved and still care about. I shall miss him until the day I die.” 

Whether we are conscious of it or not, do we seek to cause ourselves more pain than is actually needed? Arguably, we could all be called Sadomasochists of Love at some point or another. Is that worrying for the future of relationships, especially now 50 shades of Grey is called a “modern-day Love Story”…?

My Not So Fair Lady xox