Some girls...

...confuse the state of being in love with being lonely, and think they are the former when in fact they are the latter; in love with everyone and no one, just because they are without a man. A girl without a man does not know where she is placed. A man comes up to her one night as she stands preoccupied outside a house, and before you know it she goes home with him, where he confides to her everything: nothing. Was that love? No, she had only thrust a gag into the gaping jaws of a ravenous beast which was threatening to tear her apart, a dummy into the mouth of a thirsty unweaned infant: herself. The man was no more than an implement; and if that was wrong, then life itself was indeed the poet-singer's awfullest crime.

-Halldór Laxness,
The Atom Station, 1948