Volume 1: The Death of Love

“Did you just fall in love with her?” My daughter asked.

I laughed and nodded, because I had.

We were watching women’s figure skating at the time. The competition for gold was fierce and her routine was futuristic. She was skating with passion and stunning perfection. She jumped and I gasped, not because I was afraid she’d fall, but because in that moment, my heart had left the ice with her.

My daughter understood.

Love comes quickly to me. A friend once told me that I was in love with being in love. That is almost true. I’m in love with falling in love. The word is limerence and it’s almost onomatopoeia to me:

n. The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one’s feelings but not primarily for a sexual relationship.

In my own words: limerence is the phase of falling in love when the sky is bluer, the grass is greener, and all things are possible. You are the best version of yourself; not to show off, but because you want to give to the person you love everything that you want to be.

Limerence is the most powerful motivator I have in my life to evaluate myself and grow.

Limerence is a fire that burns so intensely that it consumes itself in the process. The excitement of new love is fraught with uncertainty: Does she love me? Can I tell her I love her? What will this be tomorrow? These questions keep me focused, nervous, excited, alive.

Then, one day “I love you” ceases to be an ache and becomes, instead, punctuation. It’s the period at the end of the sentence. It is foundational, lasting and True. The map has been charted and the thrill of discovery is replaced with the comfort of knowing.

Limerence has expired and can only be rediscovered in the heart of another.