Let the heroes of the masterpieces of socialist-realism show you the way to success in romantic pursuits! The never-fail attitude of the true revolutionary applies to amorous endeavors as much as to the overthrow of the ruling class!

Maxim Gorky: Mother
Nikolay, bolshevik revolutionary, talks with 'mother' Pelagueya of his lost love, chapter 34:

Now living together, Etienne and Catherine face a most difficult marital conflict: are they to break the miner's strike Etienne began to fend off starvation? Part VII chapter 2:
    "Well, why don't you answer? what are you up to?"
    At last she spoke.
    "Getting up."
    "What, now?"
    "Yes, I'm going back to work at the pit."
    Etienne felt strangely moved, and had to sit down on the bed beside her while she explained. It was too upsetting to live like this, doing nothing and feeling reproachful eyes always on her. She would rather risk being rough-handled down there by Chaval. And if her mother wouldn't take the money she brought in, well, she was big enough to fend for herself and get her own food.
    "You go back to bed, I want to dress. And don't say anything, will you? Please!"
    But he did not leave her, for he had put his arm around her waist in a caress of pity and concern. As they sat together on the edge of the bed still warm with the night's sleep, they were huddled so close that they could feel each other's hot flesh through their shifts. At first she had tried to free herself, but then had begun to whimper softly, and in her turn she threw her arms around his neck and drew him hear her in a desperate embrace. And there they stayed, with no other desire, and behind them was the past, with their unhappy unsatisfied love. Was it all over between them? Would they dare to love each other some day, now that they were free? If only they could have experienced a little happiness together they would have forgotten their reticence, this awkward reticence that kept them apart because of all sorts of odd ideas which they could not quite make out themselves.
    "Go back to bed," she whispered. "I don't want to light up, it would wake mother. It's time I got on, let me go."
    He paid no attention but went on holding her close, and his heart was overflowing with unspeakable sadness. He felt a longing for peace and happiness at all costs: he saw himself married, with a nice little home, and no other ambition but to live and die there together. He would be content with dry bread, and if there were enough for one it should be hers. What was the good of anything else? Was life worth it?
    But she freed her bare arms.
    "Let me go please!"
    Then in an impulsive moment of love he whispered:
    "Wait for me. I'm coming with you."
    He himself was amazed at having said this. He had sworn never to go down again. Then why this sudden decision which had tumbled out of his mouth without a moment's thought or discussion? Immediately he felt such a sense of calm and complete release from his doubts that he clung to it like a man whom a mere chance had saved and who had at last found a way out of his dilemma. He refused to listen when she took fright, realizing that he was sacrificing himself for her, and dreading the insults with which he would be greeted at the pit. He laughed it all off; the notices promised no victimization, and that was enough.
    "I want to work, that's how it is... Let's get dressed and be quiet about it."
[...]
    Yes, he was going back to work. Of course he knew he had sworn not to, but it was no life at all to wait with folded arms for things that might turn up in a hundred years' time -- besides, he had personal reasons.

Immediately following, the revolutionary mechanic's response:
The mechanic's eyes travelled from the girl to his friend, and he stepped back with a sudden gesture of surrender. When a man's heart was tied up with a woman he was finished and might as well die. Perhaps he caught one more fleeting vision of his mistress hanged in Moscow, severing the last bond of his flesh which had set him free to dispose of his own life and those of others.

Mrs. Morel, mother of the sons, thinks rather economically of her love for them, Chapter 5: Paul Launches into Life
Now she had two sons in the world. She could think of two places, great centres of industry, and feel that she had put a man into each of them, that these men would work out what she wanted; they were derived from her, they were of her, and their works also would be hers.

Young artist Paul is torn between his love for his mother, and the young Miriam, Chapter 7: Lad-and-Girl Love:
"I can do my best things when you sit there in your rocking-chair, mother," he said.
    "I'm sure!" she exclaimed, sniffing with mock skepticism. But she felt it was so, and her heart quivered with brightness. For many hours she sat still, slightly conscious of him labouring away, whilst she worked or read her book. And he, with all his soul's intensity directing his pencil, could feel her warmth inside him like strength. They were both very happy so, and both unconsious of it. These times, they meant so much, and which were real living, they almost ignored.
    He was conscious only when stimulated. A sketch finished, he always wanted to take it to Miriam. Then he was stimulated into knowledge of the work he had produced unconsciously. In contact with Miriam he gained insight; his vision went deeper. From his mother he drew the life-warmth, the strength to produce; Miriam urged this warmth into intensity like a white light.
    When he returned to the factory the conditions of work were better...