I have a love-hate relationship with white silk.
I have had a love-hate relationship with my body.
The more he smiled, the more I wanted to hate him, and yet it was the very thing that made hating him impossible.
I saw you, I loved you, but now I miss you, and I still can't speak because I know you hate me.
For me, writing is a love-hate relationship.
Now he was nothing to her, just a lesson in time, a wicked boy-man, incapable of wealth or prestige.
I have a love-hate relationship with performing.