Love is what happens when you care about somebody else
more than myself. Love is our most important passion, because love
is when selfish genes move on from us, into the future we will
never see. Our love of self exists in service to selfless love.
True love is not chosen. True love chooses you. Falling in love
is something that happens to us. We can’t help it.
Love is an overwhelming passion because once you fall in
love, your genes stop preserving you until you’ve spotted the optimum mate, and they start telling you, “Mate, pair-bond, right now,
at all costs. This is what we built you for. Screw your friends,
destroy your life, throw away your future, because now is our
chance to get the hell out of your doomed body and into the next
Our cells had past lives. Our ancestors possess us in our passions. We play out ancient dramas. We haven’t forgotten our lines:
I can’t live without you. You complete me. Life is meaningless
without you. I’ll kill myself, your lover, or you if I can’t have you.
I mean it. I’m crazy with love. I’m out of control.
Everyone outside love looks inside and says it’s a psychosis. It’s
not. It’s as natural as the soberness of being a responsible adult.
Anyone in love looks at his neighbors and sees zombies going
through the motions. Anyone in love looks at his pre-love state
and sees someone who wasn’t really alive. Anyone with a broken
heart looks at everybody else and sees people who enjoy their
lives, while we will never know happiness again, and nobody will