The brain in love works like an addict's: What science knows about love and lasting relationships

Kazakhstan is rapidly catching up with global trends: as metropolises expand, divorce statistics climb, while young pragmatists in major cities increasingly choose solitude, declaring love to be an "unsolvable problem".
Our editorial team has long and closely studied this aspect of social life: has the institution of marriage truly outlived its usefulness in the age of dating services? Why is it becoming harder for people to meet, and what grievances do women hold against men? Or have we simply forgotten how to listen to our own biology?
In his latest opinion column for Tengrinews.kz, Almaz Sharman, President of the Academy of Preventive Medicine and a member of the American Public Health Association, examines the topic from a medical perspective.

"Without her, I am like the sound of one hand clapping."

I used to see this only as a poetic metaphor. But the longer I practice biomedicine, the more clearly I see that behind this image lies a very specific physiology.
To function at full capacity, the human brain needs another human being. When this resonance is missing, it is not just the mood that suffers—the very biochemistry changes.
If the idea of a "second hand" seems sentimental to you today, you are not alone: millions of people caught in a "crisis of meaning" are sincerely convinced that true love cannot be found. In a narrow sense, they are right. Love is not an equation. It is a living, hyper-complex system that refuses to operate according to the formulas we were taught in school.
Why we only have one word for "love"—and how the Greeks were wiser
Modern language is catastrophically impoverished when it comes to feelings. We use "love" to describe a spouse, a dog, a job, or a barbecue. The ancient Greeks were more precise, identifying seven categories of love:

eros (passion),
philia (friendship),
agape (selfless sacrifice),
storge (familial affection),
ludus (playful flirting),
pragma (pragmatic union),
philautia (self-love).

These facets are not mutually exclusive. My own marriage literally consists of all seven types—though it took us more than three decades to assemble this entire repertoire. A lasting union is not the result of a single lucky choice, but the ability to weave a shared tapestry from all these different states.
The Greek classification resonates remarkably well with the Kazakh worldview. Recall the steppe lyrics and epics like "Kozy Korpesh — Bayan Sulu" or "Kyz Zhibek": passionate love (gashyktyk), spiritual kinship (makhabbat), and respect that grows into a union (syilastyk).
Our ancestors distinguished these nuances just as well as Athenian philosophers—they simply had their own names for them. Understanding this palette eliminates unnecessary drama: the painful "friend zone" (a mismatch of feelings) in Greek terms is simply when your eros encounters another person's philia.
A biological hurricane: what happens in the brain of someone in love
Romance begins predictably—with a hormonal roller coaster involving testosterone and estrogen. But as soon as a spark flies, a more powerful mechanism kicks in: a cocktail of dopamine and norepinephrine. Dopamine is responsible for anticipation and reward; norepinephrine drives the racing heart and sharpened focus on a single object. This pair creates the euphoria of initial encounters.
Then comes the difficult part. When the object of affection disappears from view, serotonin levels drop sharply. The result is obsessive thoughts: checking smartphone notifications thirty times, writing long messages in the middle of the night, replaying the same dialogue over and over. From an evolutionary standpoint, this isn't "weakness of character" but the work of an ancient mechanism trying to maintain a connection at any cost.
Brain scans of people in a state of intense infatuation show activation in the same areas—the ventral tegmental area, the nucleus accumbens, and the amygdala—as those seen in patients with chemical dependencies.
At a neurobiological level, early love is indistinguishable from the effects of a powerful stimulant. This doesn't devalue the feeling; rather, it explains why it is so resistant to the arguments of reason.
If a couple survives this storm, other "players" take the stage—oxytocin and vasopressin. These are what transform acute passion into stable attachment and create the sense of being "soulmates." Poets say that "two hearts beat as one."
Neurophysiologists offer a correction: two brains begin to work in a single rhythm. Studies of long-term couples record a synchronization of brain hemisphere activity during communication—a neural tuning to one another that cannot be faked through text messages. Over thirty years of my own marriage, I have seen this in practice: in time, you understand the other without words—and this "instinct" has a measurable neurophysiological basis.
The feedback loop provided by marriage
But receiving feedback is crucial. When I "screw up" and apologize, I see my spouse forgive me. When I make a mistake, I feel leniency and love. When I need help, help is there. And it is mutual. So, indirectly, we receive truly good feedback from one another.
Conversely, if a person were to honestly assess their marriage and realize something like "we are two ships passing in the night; we don't fight, but we have nothing in common," they would recognize that things aren't going well.
According to major cohort studies, couples who share common values have a divorce rate significantly lower than average. The mechanism is the same: a stable system of shared reference points reduces chronic stress and strengthens the neurochemistry of attachment.
The "Love Recession": Why there are more single people in the age of apps
Now for some uncomfortable statistics. In recent years, the share of family households in the US and several other developed countries has fallen below 50 percent. Sociologists speak of a "sex recession," but it is more accurate to call it a love recession.
Kazakhstan is no exception: according to the Bureau of National Statistics, for every three to four marriages in the country, there is approximately one divorce, and in Almaty and Astana, the gap is even more pronounced. Young and pragmatic residents of metropolitan areas are postponing marriage for "later," citing careers, mortgages, and a reluctance to "depend on another." A generation ago, such logic was unthinkable in Kazakh society; today, it has become mainstream.
It seems we are trying to solve a complex problem with simple technical tools. We have delegated the search for a partner to algorithms: by the 2020s, more than half of the world's couples met through a screen. The catch lies in their very logic. They are built on the principle of compatibility: you fill out a profile—"I love arthouse cinema, I drink lattes"—and the system searches for your mirror image.
But enduring unions are built not on compatibility, but on complementarity—mutual supplementation and difference.
As early as the 1950s, sociologist Robert Winch demonstrated that happy couples are more often built on the principle of "opposites rounding off the edges."
The famous 1995 Swiss "sweaty T-shirt experiment" added a biological layer: women subconsciously preferred the scent of men with a highly dissimilar set of histocompatibility genes.
Note:The "sweaty T-shirt experiment" was conducted in 1995 by biologist Claus Wedekind and his colleagues: men slept in identical T-shirts for two nights, after which women rated their scent without seeing the owners. It turned out that the participants found the scent of T-shirts from men whose Major Histocompatibility Complex (MHC) genes—linked to the immune system—differed most from their own to be more pleasant. The researchers suggested that scent may play a role in subconscious mate selection, though the experiment does not prove that humans form couples primarily based on genetic "dissimilarity" or smell.
Dating app algorithms cannot "smell T-shirts"—they evaluate profiles but are blind to the layer of compatibility that can only be sensed in person.
A strong family is built on more than the absence of conflict
Ultimately, strong relationships are built not on the absence of conflict, but on mutual respect even during the most difficult moments. Even the happiest couples fight sometimes. However, it is the ability to calmly discuss disagreements and find a way out together that makes a family truly strong.
Moreover, research in leading scientific journals on family psychology shows that lasting relationships are distinguished not by a lack of conflict, but by how constructively partners resolve them. It is reconciliation after a disagreement that strengthens trust and makes a relationship more mature.
Psychologists have identified several simple rules for families that actually work.
Learn to take a pause in time.
During intense conflict, the brain switches to "fight, flight, or freeze" mode. Logic almost shuts down, and emotions take over the decision-making process. Therefore, the best solution is sometimes a short timeout. The key is not to disappear in silence, but to honestly state that you need time to calm down and agree on when you will return to the conversation.
Never resort to shouting or insults.
Virtually all experts agree: nothing good comes from aggressive speech. Words spoken in anger can leave a mark for years. Anger is a natural emotion, but it is better to express it calmly. The quieter the voice becomes, the faster the tension subsides.
Don't expect your partner to read your mind.
Often, the cause of conflict is not the situation itself, but unspoken expectations. Instead of taking offense, it is more useful to ask yourself: "What need of mine is currently unmet?" Perhaps you need attention, gratitude, support, or a few warm words. When these are voiced directly, many conflicts resolve themselves.
Pay attention not only to words but also to body language.
During a quarrel, the body also participates in the conflict. Abrupt gestures, looming over your interlocutor, and a tense posture intensify the confrontation. Sometimes it is helpful to continue the conversation during a walk together or simply to sit down side-by-side. When people move in the same direction rather than standing face-to-face, it is significantly easier for them to seek a solution rather than fight each other.
Why Face-to-Face Contact Heals the Brain
Hence a practical conclusion, without moralizing. If we want to trigger the true neurochemistry of attachment, communication needs to be moved offline as early as possible. Direct eye contact, a live voice, and physical presence stimulate the production of oxytocin—the molecule that transforms momentary attraction into a lasting bond.
No messaging app can replicate this: a screen transmits information but does not trigger biochemistry. In Kazakh tradition, this was intuitively understood even without neuroscience—it is no coincidence that syylastyq, or mutual respect, was valued in the family more than fleeting passion.
Love begins with the mundane—a hormonal surge, a chance meeting, or a click in an app. But in a favorable scenario, it makes its way up the "Ladder" of Plato's Diotima: from physical attraction to the tuning of two brains to a common rhythm.
The ancient Greeks called this the ascent to meaning. Neurophysiologists call it synchronization. It seems they are talking about the same thing—just in different languages.
Editorial opinions may not necessarily reflect the views of the author.
About the author: Almaz Sharman — President of the Academy of Preventive Medicine and member of the American Public Health Association. Specialist in biomedicine and public health.