Love and related disasters

As stated by an incredibly wise human very recently and eloquently- love is but a chemical reaction. An intense overpowering chemical reaction.

As I age and grow wiser in a few respects (while losing wisdom in most), I look around and see people attempt their own versions of the Great Love Story. It is mostly the same- chocolates, flowers, text messages, whispered/ mumbled nothings, proposals, marriages… It is then that I think- why the hell is every goddamn love story I see- so similar.

It is as Hari says in the novel “Maybe I am just in love with the idea…”. I think & believe that the very idea of being in love or being loved is so romantic, alluring, mystical for an average human that us/ we/ they/ everyone falls for the same old lies- roses, chocolates, marriages- believes in the same mirage that novels, movies peddle. Everyone then dances the damned same merry dance that love is- so similar and predictable that it is infuriating for a writer who likes people to be weird/ weirder and display a lack of a pattern in their being. 

Aside from the primary and very animal perspective of finding a mate, I think love’s only purpose aside from fuelling an entire empire of entertainment spanning movies and novels (including mine I must add), is to make human beings- insignificant little specks in the perspective of the universe (Think about it- you are just six billionth of this earth’s human mass) - to make these damn tiny specks feel important. For however insignificant and socially rejected you might be, there is that one person in the world (also six billionth of human significance) who thinks you aren’t insignificant. Not so much.

The worst is peer pressure lovers- the kind that is best illustrated by XYZ who is 24 years old and who won’t stop cribbing to anyone who is willing to listen, about how everyone around her has a boyfriend/ girlfriend while she is lonely. Undoubtedly/ invariably, some poor miserable insignificant chap will eventually end up with this peer pressure lover (for whatever chemical/ biological reasons). I pity him and I pity his eventual diminished significance in the context of the universe.

Love is not a mystery. Human beings are.