Can you remember the last time you were obsessed with someone? Like, all-consuming, social-media-stalking, friends-pulling-you-aside-to-have-a-word, am-I-actually-going-crazy, obsessed? We’ve all been there at some point, but for performance artist Harriet Richardson, this extreme version of limerence has been the norm as long as she can remember. When she reminisces on her 30 years of life, they split neatly into chapters, each one named after the man she was infatuated with at the time.
“The problem is that ‘sex and love addiction’ has terrible branding,” Richardson says. “As soon as you tell someone, they assume that your issue is not being able to keep it in your pants. And it’s funny, because mine’s the opposite. I’m not looking for a quick shag. I’m looking for an idol to dedicate my thoughts, my life, my purpose to. I’ve only slept with 14 people, as everyone now knows. That’s quite low. But it’s because I have to get obsessed with them first.”
Richardson has identified as a sex and love addict since the age of 20 – “I can’t relate to people in a healthy way. It’s always about consuming, or being consumed by someone” – even though she’s been engaged in a cycle of infatuations and obsessions since the age of 14. She’s now in a process of recovering from her addiction with the help of therapy, and is doing much better; partly due to being celibate for eight months.
But last month, she went on 100 dates – all in one day. It was part of a performance piece entitled “100 Dates”, where on Valentine’s Day, she speed-dated 100 people over Zoom. Anyone could sign up for a slot; everyone got the same five minutes.
Her reasons are part experimental, part to prove something to herself. “Through recovery, I’ve had to look at how I connect to people, and going on 100 dates is an extreme version of that analysis. I want to show that it’s possible to have connections other than Wuthering Heights-level obsession. That, and I think 18 hours of durational dating is good for me.”
When I make an exhausted-sounding noise in response, Harriet laughs. “It’s funny, because when I tell people about the ‘100 Dates’ performances, they say, ‘You’re mad, I could never do that.’ But compared to the effort that I put in when I get obsessed with someone, this is not taxing. Let me tell you what’s taxing: giving your life to a concept for two decades.”
It’s a fitting stunt amid an online culture wholly preoccupied with extremes of all kinds. From MrBeast, the most popular YouTuber in the world, who made his fortune by cramming ever-larger numbers of people into various places and asking them to do various things, to Bonnie Blue, who is constantly finding new, concerning numbers of men to have sex with in a day.
Richardson’s process for her day of 100 dates began on 9 February when she posted a sign-up link online: “Open to all ages, genders, orientations and relationship statuses. Exes, singletons, old flames, people I’ve accidentally ghosted, and David Harbour are all welcome.” The day before, she spent hours meal-prepping and doing test calls to make sure the tech wouldn’t fall through.
Finally, on Valentine’s Day, after “about four hours’ sleep”, Harriet sat down for her first date at 8am. With a five-minute comfort break between each participant to eat and go to the bathroom, she was scheduled to be done by 2am the next day.
One of the dates was with me. Knowing I would be writing this piece, I wanted to know what the process felt like from the other side. For the whole day, the all-important time slot of 4pm loomed over me (“Don’t be late,” Harriet had warned her Instagram followers the day before). Finally, after locating the best lighting in my living room, I settled onto the sofa and logged on. I was nervous.
But five minutes, as it turns out, is not a very long time. We laughed about our types (“line them up, and they all look like that rat from Flushed Away”) and awkwardly interrupted each other over a slightly dodgy internet connection. And then our time was up; she said goodbye; it was over. The date had felt rushed, but I still enjoyed it more than most of the dates I’ve been on in my two years of being single; I felt I’d played a tiny part in a wider, more complicated whole, and it left me with a buzz for the rest of the day.
After we parted ways, Harriet stayed sitting, and dating, for another 12 hours. At 2.45am, after a grand total of 105 dates (with some extras thrown in to make up for some no-shows), she was done. With the last date logged off, Harriet closed her laptop, and immediately burst into exhausted, happy tears.
“I just felt this gratitude for being alive, for these connections with people that don’t owe me anything, who still set candles up and put on a nice top and prepared questions to ask,” Harriet tells me the next day, through a croaky voice. “It’s that amazing sense of: we’re all here, trying to be seen or happy or loved.”
This is not the first time Richardson has gone on 100 dates in a day. Back in 2024, she did the same stunt on Valentine’s Day. Only back then, her relationship was failing and she wanted to prove that she wasn’t as alone as she felt. This second version of 100 dates partly functioned as a reaction to her growth through addiction.
“I’m not recovered, and I never will be,” explains Richardson. While some addictions require abstinence, others must be managed. The tricky thing about being addicted to people is that they cannot simply be sworn off forever. “I’m always managing it, and it’ll always be there. Like any other addiction, it’ll flare up in times of stress or uncertainty. With everything going on in the world, I can feel myself wanting to yearn again, because it’s familiar, and I know how that process goes.”
This time, Richardson was more focused on being authentic, rather than acting out what she thought other people wanted her to be, in order to get their approval. “I recognised it most in the dates where I didn’t get on with them. Last time, I would have been all, oh my God, that’s so funny, that’s amazing, ha ha ha. This time, I just reacted how I wanted to react. I didn’t play anything up. I’ve not done that before.”
Both years, Richardson was sick in bed for a week after the 100 dates, her brain and body reeling from sheer exposure to humanity. Her skin broke out. She had mouth ulcers from talking so much. Her Oura ring – a fitness tracking device – told her she’d hit her daily walking goal by midday, despite her sitting still. “Waking up the next morning, I could not move. I’ve never been exhausted like that before.”
She found herself wanting to go on a second date with around 10 per cent of her dates, but won’t follow up with them as she believes in the integrity of the isolated performance – and she’s also too tired. “Exhaustion is a great way to avoid addictive behaviour,” she laughs.
Waking up the next morning, I could not move. I’ve never been exhausted like that before
Harriet Richardson
Back in 2024, she felt attracted to a similar amount of people, but this time, she realised her type was different. Instead of the usual mysterious (read: inaccessible) men, the people Harriet was intrigued by this time were those who had taken the time to get to know themselves. The attraction superseded everything else – gender, age, appearance. “My type has changed! It’s such a relief that I could cry!”
One date, in particular, was familiar in a way she couldn’t quite understand, until he explained that his problem with dating was that people kept saying he was ‘too unproblematic’. She smiled and gently pointed out that a lack of problems might be, in itself, a problem. She’d heard this exact sentiment numerous times before – from her ex-boyfriend.
“And this guy was precisely the kind I would have dated before. Moustache, Irish, hot. But I realised very quickly: you’re like a mousetrap, and that cheese is going to give me food poisoning in five years’ time.”
A few weeks on from her 100 dates, Harriet remains celibate. It’s hard for her, but she’s seeing it out, to whichever end she needs. “It doesn’t have a set end date, because that won’t be helpful to me. I’m just doing it until I feel that I can have sex and relate to someone healthily, and I think I’m getting there. But it doesn’t ever stop. I just have to continually watch these things, like a child who wants sweets. They can have a few, but not the whole shop.”