COLUMN: The Half-Life of Love

From Nathan Smith's "South End of the Northbound," Fall '95 From Nathan Smith's "South End of the Northbound," Fall '95There are many great questions to be answered in the journey of life. In my case, few of them reach beyond issues like "What's for dinner?" But some of you may be troubled with annoying questions, and I'm here today to provide bogus answers. Are human beings essentially good or evil? Is there a supreme being? Do candy corns contain lead? Will Nathan Smith's column ever address any relevant subject matter? Will he even get to the so called subject at hand today? To save you all some trouble, I'll answer these right now: Good, who cares, unfortunately yes, no, and alright already I'm working on it. Confronted with such a pressing matter, I do what all good philosophers do -- question the question. Is that the right way to ask what I'm after? I don't think so. You see, we're not going to be around forever so its stupid to wonder about love after death. Furthermore, people trapped in loveless marriages or relationships still feel the presence of the love which once illuminated their hearts, but it is more like residue, warm ashes where a bonfire once burned. Do the ashes of passions count as love? To clarify the matter, I must make a distinction between true infatuation, the excitement experienced upon first discovering reciprocated affection, and true love, the lasting affinity which remains after the shiny veneer of the relationship has worn off. Now I may formulate the question about the focal issue, love, in a manner more accurately reflecting the pattern of gradual breakdown. Does love have a half-life? Does it inevitably break down, leaving the dedicated lovers with an ever smaller chunk of love to point at and say, "See, it's still there?" To answer that rather depressing query, let's begin at the beginning. So you've fallen in love, and it's reciprocated. You've quit sleeping, and you're heart fibrilates while you sit in class daydreaming of him or her. Every time you're together, you see fireworks without the aid of illegal drugs. Yes, you've discovered an infatuation which may well lead to a lasting love relationship. It goes on like this for a while, until slowly, imperceptibly, your time together grows a little more casual. You can go a day without being together. You can sit around together and actually get restless and bored (though hopefully not right away). Are you losing your passions? No, it's simply calming down to a more reasonable affection. You've reached the critical point for intervention. You can let your relationship gradually settle, without acknowledgement, until finally you're rendered into one of those silent senior citizen's couples that never really does anything exciting, even though you've only dated for a year or so (or perhaps this transformation has occurred during the first week -- to each his or her own pace). Infatuation has left, and now you must decide what to do with the love that remains, and how to test its strength. Now's the time to keep things interesting. You have to constantly challenge yourselves to experience new and exciting things together, to prevent the humdrum of getting used to each other's particular routines. I'm sure you're thinking, "But what can I do to ensure that my fledgling relationship sprouts wings and matures to a fully grown, majestic ostrich of love?" O.K., so maybe that's not exactly what you were thinking, but I'm sure it was along those lines. Have no fear -- I'm here once again to set an example by which to live. My girlfriend and I confronted this very problem and devised several methods for keeping love alive, and keeping life interesting. At first we tried subtle changes. We started lifting weights together. I got too embarrassed though, because the guys at World Gym laughed at the way she could benchpress 385 lbs. when I couldn't top 100. So we changed tactics. Now we go running together (I ride on her shoulders through Fairmont Park). Still, this too got to be kind of a rut. It was then that we struck upon an idea guaranteed to keep the spark glowing in our relationship. Every year we go to the hospital together for sex change operations. That way, on alternate years, I get to be the domineering, assertive business woman bringing home the bacon (or for us, soysage meat substitute), and he has to stay home to cook, clean, and work answering the phone for one of those 1-900 sex lines. So, if you want to see my column in the spring, look for Nathaniella Smith next to a similar picture (I'll be wearing a little blush and eyeliner to bring out my bedroom eyes). But seriously folks, there are ways to stop love's decay. For one, never forget the importance of talking openly and directly about your feelings and the relationship as a whole. If you're realizing that the initial infatuation has worn away, don't wonder and worry to yourself about whether love will endure; tell your significant other exactly what you feel. It may be hard at first, but you'll be so much happier. Just gently come out with something like, "Hey, you know, I'm just beginning to realize how boring you are." You might actually want to cushion that a little, but you get the picture. Also, don't be afraid to try new things. Pick up instruments and learn to play music together. Go take ballroom or African dance together. Go spelunking in dangerous abandoned mine shafts together. If all else fails, you might consider experimenting with premarital sex (preferably with each other). Whatever it takes to keep things interesting, whatever shared experience might shed new light on the depth of your lover's character is worth trying, for it will force you to fall in love all over again, this time with the many undiscovered traits that people only display in exceptional situations. The more time you spend experiencing new things, the more shared interests and dislikes you will have to discuss. So there you have it; the half-life is a fallacy. Love doesn't diminish steadily and unstoppably by half its mass every year or so. Love endures, given the proper care. Keep hope alive, and love will follow suit. Come back in two weeks to check out my next column, "Is Love Radioactive?" If so, is that why I'm losing my hair? If not, why do cheesy romantic ponderances like this one nauseate me so? Should we switch from condoms to radiation suits? You can find all this and even less right here, in a mere two weeks.