The asymmetry of the unloved parts

why we fall out of love with things and what can we do about it ?

Some things in life captivate us so completely that they become touchstones. A favourite movie, song, or story becomes a safe place, bringing peace and joy time and time again. For me, The Silver Linings Playbook is one of those. I can pick it up any time, immerse myself in its quirky vibe, great music and leave feeling somehow lighter. But after months—or even years—of returning to these beloved favourites, something changes. The spark dims. The joy once so magnificently felt feels muted. Why?

This isn't just about movies or songs. The same phenomenon seems to extend to friendships, relationships, hobbies, even work. It seems to be a broader pattern, a feature of how we experience joy and satisfaction. I think it boils down to two intertwined dynamics:

The Mellowing of the loved parts

When you first experience something special, the joy can be profound. A song might hit you at just the right emotional frequency, or a movie might lift you up completely from misery to mirth. These moments create peaks of emotional intensity—an instant connection, a rush of dopamine. But with each repeat, the impact of those “highs” begins to mellow. The novelty wears off, and what once felt transcendent becomes familiar.

Think of it as emotional diminishing returns. The first laugh at a joke in your favourite movie is genuine and hard-hitting. The second or third time, it's still enjoyable. But by the tenth? You anticipate it, and the punchline lands with less force. By the 100th, you've heard it too many times.

The Weight of the Unloved Parts

This is the crucial bit.

Every experience has its less enjoyable moments. Maybe it’s a scene in a movie that feels slow or out of place, or a verse in a song that doesn’t quite land. At first, these are easy to overlook because the good parts shine so brightly. Over time, though, the shine fades, and those less-enjoyed parts hold steady. They don't mellow in their impact, in fact their relative weight grows, casting a longer shadow over your experience. There is an asymmetry here.

This imbalance is subtle but powerful. The very elements that didn’t matter at first start to feel like obstacles, pulling the entire experience down. You begin to feel icky picking up that CD again.

Where Else Does This Happen?

This isn’t confined to entertainment. The same principle seems to play out in many aspects of life - relationships ? work ? hobbies ? Have you felt it too ?

Is This Inevitable?

It might be. Perhaps our brains are wired to seek novelty, to constantly look for new peaks of emotional engagement. Familiarity, while comforting, doesn’t provide the same dopamine rush as serendipity. And that means we’re doomed to fall out of love with everything.

Or maybe not, if we work on it. With movies or songs, that might mean noticing subtle details you missed before. In relationships or work, it might mean focusing on growth, shared history, or a deeper sense of purpose. But over a long time, spacing and scarcity is the only way to keep enjoying what you enjoyed once. Scarcity brings that excitement of being with someone again, or listening to that song after months and getting that rush once again. Spacing makes you forget the unloved bits too, the effect of time brings some balance and symmetry - you remember and yearn for the good parts better than the unloved bits.

You can control your experience but it is tough. Especially tough for millennials and those who've come after; for us constraints are few and have to be artificial and require a lot of will. Sometimes, though, it’s okay to let go. If a movie, song, or relationship no longer brings you joy, it might be time to move on and find a new favourite. After all, isn’t life partly about discovering the next thing to love?