There is nothing worse than listening to the incoherent ramblings of a good friend when she’s fallen in love. Euphoric-walking-on-air-state-of temporary-bliss, kind of love, when all her hopes and dreams have come true, the stars are aligned, birds soar in unison and the world is in harmony—because she’s in deliriously-happy-effin-love……again. Okay, that sounded bitter, but it’s not.
It’s the type of friend whose neurosis, self-doubt and self-sabotaging ways translate into this exhausting monologue of, “OMG, I never knew life could be like this!! Oh Jesus, what am I doing…who am I kidding… Do I really want to put myself through this again… I know how these things end… I was doing fine alone…was perfectly happy, had a good job, friends…but, then again, my life now has this whole new dimension, and I don’t want to lose it…Oh god, what the hell’s wrong with me…I’m so screwed up…I know I’m screwed up…you think I’m screwed up, don’t you?”
I’ll bet your blood pressure just peaked, didn’t it.
This one-way conversation, especially when repeated ad infinitum, is not enough to keep the average mind alive—and as I’d like to think of mine as being well-above average, I imagine if subjected to enough rounds of “so then he said…and then I said…and then he said…and then I said,” they’d be reading my last will and testament as my brain started to turn to jello.
A bit harsh, maybe—but after twenty-five years or so of this manic mindset, how patient and forbearing am I expected to be? I think I’m the one who needs consoling. Don’t you?
It would be desirable for the manic friend, prior to entering this manic state, to monitor her conversations somewhat before they turn said friend’s brain into a useless bowl of cold lumpy oatmeal. Just sayin’.
Look, there’s no denying that with crazy-in-love or lust, comes the stammering speech, sweaty palms and a whole lot of OCD. How many times have you triple-checked for missed texts…voicemails? (guilty) The brain in love can push us into the throes of mental illness…seriously. It’s taken less than that to push me there. Besides—you can’t argue with psychological studies.
With all those cursed chemicals coursing through our bodies, it should be no surprise. I’d imagine not much different from overdosing on testosterone.
Do you remember the scene from Moonstruck, where Nicholas Cage is standing out in the snow, and proceeds to explain fully just how dire the consequences are to falling in love with Loretta ?
Falling in love, while it has its exhilarating moments, also has a full supply of fear and dread. One minute you’re living your life, minding your own business, and next thing you know, you’re a runaway train slamming blindly through stations at a hundred miles an hour. Everything’s turned inside out and backwards, all your priorities and peace of mind are in disarray. Your heart is pounding, your hormones surging, you’re walkin’ on air, then you trip over a curb and knock yourself unconscious. Yep. The perils of love.
Giddiness, confusion, turmoil, misery, heartache—hell, the nutritional aspects alone (eating, not eating, eating everything in sight, vomiting) make you a basket case. And let’s not forget, the sleep deprivation and the utter terror. It’s not all bliss, but it sure is lively.
Is it all worth it? Well, naturally. Life-changing love doesn’t sashay your way every day. And what’s the worst that could happen? That you will lose them? Well, okay. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?
Besides, isn’t the weight loss alone worth the risk?