What is it about the promise of new love that makes us stupid? Whether we are already in love and falling again or had been in love and have fallen out and now met someone new, we are remarkably stupid for what is generally considered to be a pretty bright race, if not the brightest – though I have long held that the premise is debatable - That we are not so smart after all. We fall in love and we do the stupidest things – and I’ve come to realize that what we call “love’ half the time, would not even come close to even my loosest definition of the word, for most of the time, such escapades are simple crushes or infatuations and the like.
Let’s face it, do other animals fall in love or lust or infatuation as we do? Does a gold fish or a duck meet another fish or duck and spend their afternoons or their days lolling around and being all googly eyed and stupid and speaking of nothing else but the new beloved, boring their friends half to death, wondering what s/he is doing at this exact moment, as we stare, starry-eyed at the moon and think about whole worlds that separate us, but gosh, golly gee, we’re at least staring at the same moon and “in this way we are together.”
I want to be all romantic about it and I want to believe. Oh trust me I do, but I’ve become cynical. I read Al Barger’s post on Silly Love Songs and I liked it, despite what every one else said because I too want to believe in silly love songs. because I want to be as stupid and doofy as Paul McCartney was and believe that there is more to this world than what we see every day, which is divorce and people breaking up and sad songs all the time from the radio and the groups that I personally listen to like those sad sacks Travis or even Radiohead or even lately I admit, The Flaming Lips and previously and even now, Nirvana and the like and yes, Oasis because I like them – all bands that sing about the crashing and the thrashing of love in one way or another. Some may do it harder, others softer, but it all works out the same. Love crashes and thrashes. It may come in soft, but unlike our month of March, love does not leave like a lamb. It leaves like a fucking lion ripping your heart out from your chest and throwing it hard against the wall just to see how long it will stick.