Susan Smith Nash, Ph.D.
Most people have known of someone
who was either erotomanic in some way, or have at least known someone who was
victimized by the often absurd, often comic, and sometimes darkly terrifying
and dangerous delusional disorder.
Technically, erotomania is a variant
of delusional disorder, which is described by the Merck Manual of Diagnosis and
Therapy, as “ the presence of one or more false beliefs that persist for at
least 1 month. Delusions tend to be nonbizarre and involve situations that
could occur, such as being followed, poisoned, infected, loved at a distance,
or deceived by one's spouse or lover” (http://www.merck.com/pubs/mmanual/section15/chapter193/193f.htm). Suffering from delusional disorder can be
problematic for the individual, and lead to negative consequences. The Merck Manual describes behaviors and
beliefs ascribed to erotomania: In the
erotomanic subtype, the patient believes that another person is in love with
him. Efforts to contact the object of the delusion through telephone calls,
letters, surveillance, or stalking are common. Persons with this subtype may
have conflicts with the law related to this behavior” (http://www.merck.com/pubs/mmanual/section15/chapter193/193f.htm).
In most cases, the disorder
manifests itself as quirky and sometimes socially embarrassing beliefs that can
result in uncomfortable responses from friends and loved ones. Thank God I’ve not suffered from erotomania
– at least as far as I’m aware.
However, I’ve seen it around me. I’ll never forget the 50ish poetry professor
with thinning hair and a budding paunch who was convinced that all his female
students were secretly in love with him.
The truth was, nothing could have been further from reality – most of
his students loathed him in secret – his pompous pronouncements that there were
“no great women poets in the 20th century” and “just because a woman
committed suicide did not make her intrinsically interesting.” He also had an annoying way of drawling his
words when he spoke so that his comments, no matter how innocuous or benign,
became instantly patronizing. For some
perverse reason, I liked the guy – perhaps because he made me see the ordinary
through completely new eyes, and a fresh frame of reference. While taking an independent study course in
writing poetry with him, he suggested that we take a road trip through the
rural regions of central Oklahoma, and the downscale fringe suburbs that
flanked Oklahoma City. We passed
trailer homes, trash heaps, rusty cars, weather-beaten billboards advertising
beer and whiskey, car lots, rundown roadside diners, and mile upon mile of
trash-lined rural roads.
“Just look
at the industrial decay and clutter,” he said.
“It’s gorgeous – it’s like an earthwork or a living abstract
expressionist painting – a tableaux vivant!
There’s nothing like it – the muted grays, browns, and fading
neons!”
When I began to look at Oklahoma’s rural poverty as
the contents of a painting or an art project, I was able to distance myself
from the immediacy of it all. Somehow
the poverty in my own backyard that frightened me so lost its sting. It became exotic. Perhaps that is the charm of the delusional disorder.
Likewise, all the 20-something young women who
worked hard at being desirable and desired, could have been deeply threatening
to this professor, who would never rate high on anyone’s desirability index –
not for looks, or for personality (!)
How much easier it would be to convince oneself that they all were
secretly in love (with an emphasis on the “secretly”), but for a myriad of reasons,
could not actually permit themselves to display or even express their true
feelings.
It reminded me of Vladimir Nabakov’s Humbert Humbert
in Lolita, whose horror of fully mature women triggered his perception
that their daughters (specifically Lolita) were in love with him, and
shamelessly trying to seduce him. Of
course, the question is, in Lolita, if Humbert Humbert is truly an
erotomanic pedophile, or simply a man with an advanced case of delusional
disorder (erotomania) that has crossed the line into an active form of
schizophrenia, replete with auditory and visual hallucinations.
Perhaps the most classically textbook film depiction
of erotomania is in the 1995 film, Don Juan de Marco, directed by Jeremy
Leven, from the original novel of the same name by Jean White Blake. Don Juan de Marco is the nom de guerre of a
young man admitted to a psychiatric hospital due to the fact that he believes,
with all his heart, that he is the original Don Juan, the ultimate knower and
seducer of all women, the only man alive who is privy to the secret heart of
the female. In the film version, Don
Juan (played by Johnny Depp) is a gentle, soulful, and sincere man. In the book, his persona is a bit more
complicated – he is a manipulative deceiver of women who, in his heart of
hearts, despises and fears them.
Sadly, the primary motivation is the same for both
Humbert Humbert and Don Juan. Their
fear of women, often coming from troubling incidences in their adolescence,
causes them to go to any lengths necessary to control them. If this means “checking out” of reality, and
being convinced that all women love them, or can be easily seduced, then life
is much easier.
As the Merck Manual points out, erotomanic behavior
can be frightening. Stalking is often
perceived as a logical response to rejection.
Sadly, the person being stalked never even met the stalker, and thus
could have no idea whatsoever that someone was watching them and judging their
behavior to rejecting, indifferent, disrespectful, or even cruel. It is usually a shock to the object of the
delusion that such feelings exist. When
they find out, they soon realize there is little or nothing they can do to
alter the erotomanic person’s delusions and thought processes. Film examples are many, and include Fatal
Attraction, The Crush, American Beauty, Sweetie, Taxi Driver, to name a
few. Many times, the erotomanic
delusion goes hand in hand with the desire to “save” or “rescue” the person
from a situation (or clutches of a loved one) that is “keeping them
apart.”
Perhaps the most bizarre case of erotomania copying
art erotomania was in John Hinkley, who became convinced that Jodie Foster
required rescuing just as the 12-year-old prostitute she played in Taxi
Driver was targeted by Robert DeNiro, who wanted to “rescue her.” As you may recall, Hinckley shot President
Reagan. He explained that he “did it
for Jodie.”
Does popular culture function as an advertisement
for deviant behavior, and does it inspire copycats? Needless to say, it can, particularly if one actually enjoys the
notion of the 15-seconds of fame that such notoriety engenders. Film and popular music have taken a
self-reflexive tack and have examined the psyche of the person who does it
either as a perfect replica of the original act (and thus the performative
elements can be considered, at least in the mind the individual, either living
theater or art), or in response to an obsessive love from afar. The films Copycat and Seven
are two in which the obsession takes on a game-like aspect. The intentionality of the acts makes the
work “art” (at least for the soi-disant artist, not for the victims!). In Eminem’s The Marshall Mathers Album, “Stan”
is an obsessed fan who is convinced that his idol is snubbing him when he does
not respond immediately to his letters. He emulates the behavior he associates with his idol in order to
gain favor (at first). Later, as time
passes, and the fan has not received the desired responses to his letters, he
copies what he believes to have been the pop star’s actions (which are
portrayed in a song which falls into a rap-confessional genre), he does his
actions to punish and to act out his own rage.
Probably the most widely-read recent book on
erotomania is Doreen Orion’s 1997 I Know You Really Love Me, which is a
first-hand chronicle of her own experiences with a deeply disturbed
patient. Orion, a psychiatrist, was
treating a patient for delusional disorder, when he began to fix his obsessive
delusions on her. The experience was
harrowing and dangerous, and it left the victim further victimized by a
situation where there is very little protection that anyone can offer. In her case, the obsession was long-lived,
and he was both intelligent and cruel.
The book is fascinating.
Obsessions are difficult to overcome. Perhaps erotomania is one of the more
difficult of the obsessions to cure, since it has an automatic “reward” built
in as the limbic system is triggered, and adrenaline rushes into the system of
the disturbed patient. Adrenaline
coupled with the sexual gratification associated with this disorder provides a
very powerful biochemical trigger. In
certain terms, erotomania is an addiction, with equal parts pain (rejection)
and pleasure (thinking of the object of the delusion).
I personally think that this sort of delusion could
be almost incurable. What can you
do? Mild erotomania could be harmless
and make the world a more enjoyable place.
What are we without dreams, anyway?
But full-blown delusional disorder of the erotomanic variety – all I can
say is, look out for a long and difficult road ahead – or simply RUN (unless,
of course, you are the one suffering from the delusional disorder).