"I'll put on the creepy mask, if you grant me some forgetfulness." -Warren Zevon
Let me start by saying that I have never relished the act of falling in love; for me it has always been an ordeal full of confusion and despair. You know what falling for someone is? It's that moment in a dream when you fall off a cliff: the tortuous seconds before you realize you can fly. In those moments, you feel the danger you're in much more acutely than ever before or after. Before you jumped there was loneliness, sure, but safety as well - and if someone jumps with you, then you forget how hard it was in the happy blur of mutual affection.
So now I've fallen twice and somewhat dread what the future may bring.
Firmly face-planted at the bottom of the ravine, rebound coyotes are stalking about and the cacti are extra-pokey...but I'm sure eventually I'll start looking for another way up to the jump point. In my last relationship, I often lamented the fact that I didn't keep a log of the early stages: when everything was sweet and new. But now I remember why that never happened. Some things you wouldn't try again if you could remember how much they hurt.
You know what? I think love deserves its own happy-chemical (like oxytocin and childbirth): something that induces forgetfulness after the fact. Goodness knows women wouldn't have so many babies without oxytocin to dim the memory of their own harpy-like screams...would it kill nature to provide some chemical courage for romance?
