COLUMN: "Welcome Aboard, It's Love!"

From John Lennon's "Stepping on the Big Man's Toes," Spring '92. I took an informal poll on Locust Walk in preparation for this column, a poll wherein I rushed up to complete strangers and asked breathlessly: "Hi! What do you think about love?" Of those surveyed, 47 of them backed slowly away, grinning shakily; two did not speak English, and one embraced me passionately and screamed "Oh, Elvis! Finally you're mine!" This means that at least 96 percent of people are thinking about love, or Elvis, or both! History supports this figure. From the austere exhortations of the ancient Greeks to the thoughtful musings of Norm from "Cheers," mankind has spent gigantic stinking gobs of time thinking about love. Take, for instance, this verse from Chaucer: "Louve is conninge, milde and sweete, It borrowes your carre, then dryves ouver your feete." The question here, of course, is this: Why should we believe Chaucer when he can barely spell his own name, let alone write love poetry? The answer is simple - his brain was fried by love. This same frying takes place when sweethearts write each other letters; they come up with lines like "Your eyes are like pools of crude oil spilled off the coast of Alaska in springtime" or "Your goiter is the color of an autumn sunset." Let's take a look at the history of love. Love was invented back when Neanderthals ruled the earth, in 1987. Ha! That's a joke, actually; we all know that Java Man was in office that year. No, love came about in prehistoric times. The first lover was a lonely furry fellow who one day saw the girl of his dreams on his way home from the mastadon hunt. Smitten, he presented her with several steaming chunks of mastadon meat. She was, of course, disgusted, and ended up with the second lover, a guy who had a BMW and opposable thumbs. This created the first jilted lover, who spent the next thirty thousand years inventing chocolate ice cream so that he could eat it all day and sulk. What can we learn from this? Absolutely nothing! Zillions of years later, we're still making the same mistakes over and over. Of course, this is a decidedly cynical point of view, as any successful lover will tell you. If you can't tell a successful lover from an unsuccessful one, study this helpful comparison: Successful Lover: Walks dazedly down street, absent-mindedly bumping into people. Unsuccessful Lover: Runs screaming down street, purposefully beating the hell out of people. Successful Lover: Takes romantic strolls through wooded parks. Unsuccessful Lover: Sets wooded parks on fire. Successful Lover: Sends greeting cards filled with sentimental, touching words. Unsuccessful Lover: Sends greeting cards filled with battery acid. Well, you get the idea. But my point is this: Love makes us do strange things. It can make us cry when a song comes on the radio, it can make us laugh in the pouring rain, it can make us jab ourselves repeatedly in the eyeball with a sharp object. So far, I'd imagine, you're probably very curious about what love is really like. Perhaps you'd like to go out and find some yourself. No problem! All you have to do is know where to look. First, though, it is important to know where not to look. Here are my suggestions for places to avoid: Bars. This is where to look for lust. Don't confuse this with love, which is more difficult to find and slightly less sticky. The Library. When you're studying for that big exam, it is very easy to become excruciatingly bored and fall madly in love with the back of someone's head, or someone's ankle, or someone's left hand. Trust me: The rest of them is never as good as you think it will be. The object of your love inevitably turns out to be the wrong sex, or your physics TA, or worse. The Subway. Have you ever fallen in love with somebody between 30th Street Station and City Hall, just to have them get off at a different stop than you and vanish forever into the cold lonely anonymity of a dying city? Believe me, it isn't worth it. Bring something to read instead. Yugoslavia. The romantic climate is presently less than optimal. Personal Ads. I'll translate a few personal ads for you, in order to explain why they are such a bad idea: #1. SF, 23, cute, sensitive, likes good music, romantic dinners, walks on the beach, seeks SM, 21-30, for mature, serious relationship and fun. Translation: Single Female, age 23, with profuse facial hair, will explode at the slightest provocation, likes Slayer, Dionne Warwick, pork rinds, the New Jersey shore, seeks Single Male, age 21-30, for testing of experimental dermatological medication. #2. SM, 25, well-built, practical, enjoys sports, excellent conversation, theater, moonlight, seeks SF, 22-28, for stimulating romantic endeavor. Translation: Single Male, age 25, 4'5", 87 lbs., owns only one shirt, enjoys ping-pong, discussions on the theoretical properties of the subatomic gluon, nudie dance shows, can't go out in bright sunlight due to pale skin and fear of radiation poisoning, seeks Single Female, age 22-28, as dominating sadist sexual partner. Unfortunately, I can't really think of any good places to fall in love, although I would recommend that you do it in a clean, disease-free environment, such as an operating room. Personally, I'm going to stay home and watch a few Walt Disney movies. Pass the beer nuts. John Lennon is a senior English major from Phillipsburg, New Jersey. Stepping on the Big Man's Toes appears alternate Mondays.