Photographs are magic, there’s no doubt about it. I can’t imagine how annoying it must have been in the age before camera existed; being blessed with the perfect sunset and knowing that nobody else will witness what you did.

But at the same time, come on, think about it: you don’t need to take photographs constantly, and you especially don’t need to take the same photos over and over again, do you? This was the case with my third girlfriend, the one who’d had Cosmetic eyelid surgery : it was as if she was possessed with a need to take photographs of Her and I whenever we were together. It was fine at the beginning, but over a period of months it became ridiculous. It eventually got to the stage where I had to say “Look–I know you love taking pictures of us but seriously, I think 1,000 or so is enough–don’t you?”

But she didn’t think it was enough, of course. Just like someone who is addicted to devouring chocolate can’t see that eating five boxes of Milk Tray is the actions of someone who is a little unhinged. Eventually our relationship broke up through much more fatal natural causes—a fight over which series of Friends was better—but it stayed with me, this fear of people who love photographs more than life itself.

Addiction is a strange thing. And, for that matter, how do you differentiate between someone who just loves somethin a lot and someone who has an unhealthy fascination and does something a bit too much?