The mere thought of love at first sight — a kind of madness associated with the juvenile and the immature — brings forth a potent cringe effect. But being what it is — a thought — it can be easily banished from the mind at will. The verbalization of it, however, is another matter. Somehow, speaking it makes it an irretractable commitment (a form of social suicide so final and so damning) that marks the speaker with a stigma at once vile and cheesy. It leaves a sour, metallic taste in the mouth each time I say the phrase, so I make sure I never do.
I asked Mike Plotteck, 25, a favorite nephew of mine. “Define it first, Tita,” he said and the concept that immediately came to mind was the French coup de foudre. I explained that it literally translated to lighting bolt in English, which is the perfect image for its figurative meaning: to suddenly fall in intense admiration or love for another person and which comes with a deep, compelling desire to have an intimate relationship with him or her. Along with most things French, an aura of mystery envelops the entire concept, which only serves to further romanticize the idea.
The French describe it as a sort of shock — something formidable and unique that is totally beyond the victim’s control. They argue strongly, however, that there is a chemical explanation for love at first sight.
They say that we have two types of brain, so to speak: the emotional brain and the logical brain. The emotional brain reacts instinctively at a much faster rate and elicits a physical reaction when people meet someone that pleases their senses. It immediately generates a rush of adrenalin, increased heart rate, and elevated blood pressure. It induces a feeling of warmth and euphoria, which mimics the state and symptoms of being in love, hence the term.
He then recounted his first encounter with his girlfriend of three years, Ciabel.
“Sure, I felt that,” my nephew, Mike, was quick to reply unabashedly in front of everyone. “It was definitely love at first sight. I saw her at some gathering and knew immediately I wanted to be with her. But she gave me a hard time. Six months! It took six months before she agreed to go out with me,” he announced animatedly.
“Really?” I asked, baffled by his candor.
“Well, okay,” he confessed. “I had something to drink that night and I my head was concussed because I had fallen backwards from the top of the stairs, but I remembered everything the next day and I was just as convinced that I had to be with her. It paid off in the end no matter how long it took.”
It was an inspiring testimony from a 25-year-old man. I had the impression that people this age, let alone this gender, couldn’t be tortured into such confessions. This love at first sight research wasn’t going to be as painful as I had thought.
Next in line was Andreas, 23, a German-American aspiring filmmaker from Los Angeles. He said, “Probably not love at first sight but infatuation at first sight. That happens. But I have a friend who argues strongly for it. I play devil’s advocate and ask him what if the girl were crazy or something. And he says, ‘If she’s hot I don’t care.’”
It then came out during the course of the conversation that Hollywood actor Michael Douglas repeatedly claims that what he felt for his wife, Catherine Zeta Jones, was exactly that — love at first sight — when he saw her from across a restaurant. “I immediately came up to her and said, ‘You will be the mother of my children!’” They have been married for seven years and have two children.
“Yeah?” Andreas said sarcastically. “But isn’t he the same dude with the sex addiction problem?” Okay, I thought, scratch that, Michael Douglas doesn’t count.
In the succeeding days I came across around two dozen men in their 20s, 30s and 40s, two in their 50s, and one in his 60s, who all attest to the reality of this concept. One 21-year-old said, “It happens to me all the time, especially when the girl has boobs like Pamela Anderson’s.”
The 30-year-old said, “I’m sure I’ve fallen in love at first sight, I just don’t remember.”
Sure, sure, I thought.
The 60-year-old declared, “Love at first sight is not just a concept; it lives. Men are just not brave enough to admit it.”
At first I had some difficulty taking his word for it but if Homer Simpson, the irreverent father of Bart, both lead characters of the animated television series, The Simpsons, came across as earnest and credible to millions of viewers when he claimed that it was love at first sight that he felt for his onscreen wife, Marge, the first time they met, then I should have no trouble believing him.
The clincher was the story of a 33-year-old gentleman, who wishes to remain anonymous. He recounted, “It was more like touch at first sight for me. I had been seeing this woman around town for close to a decade. We’re friends, you see, and we move in the same circles so there was a lot of this bumping-into-each- other sort of thing. I had always found her attractive but didn’t give it much thought. I was occupied with other things. But there was this one definitive moment, when I bumped into her at a restaurant, which changed everything. She was dining with friends and I had come to their table to say hello. I lingered for some small talk and caught on with the conversation that was about body language. At one point, she laid her hand on my forearm to demonstrate something and there it was in an instant, this coup de foudre, this lighting bolt that transmitted thousands of volts of electricity. I can’t explain it; it was amazing. So I pursued her; I have her now.”
“And she felt the same way?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered without batting an eyelash.
“Couldn’t it have been lust?” I pushed the envelope farther.
“That, too,” he admitted. “But it has gone way past that now.”
Whoa. What else could I say? There was something in his delivery of the story, something in his facial expression that had “honesty” written all over it.
I figure, I could analyze, rationalize, and deconstruct this all I want, this mythical, surreal, and fairy-tale idea of love at first sight. But how and where do I start? It seems to me a sort of dreamy enchantment that temporarily shuts off the beholder’s mental faculties and energizes him with an exhilaration that seems inextinguishable. The men who had real-life stories had a certain sparkle in the eyes as they spoke of a current romantic involvement that started off with the love-at-first-sight phenomenon or as they fondly recalled an old flame, whom they still held a candle for.
They seemed positively bewitched and carried away as they spoke into a far-off land where the rest of us, who have not had the good fortune of being hit by Eros’ arrow doused with the love at first sight potion, do not tread.
I sought a psychologist’s opinion on the matter just to infuse substance into this article and he said, “During the period where coup de foudre is operative, there is a tendency for the beholder to sublimate the object of his affection. He is deprived of any objective assessment and is unable to perceive her possible flaws/negative traits.” He warned that the euphoria that comes with it is finite; it is difficult to sustain. “It does last much longer if the feelings are reciprocal. But emotional fatigue may eventually set in and disillusionment follows thereafter,” he continued.
He was quick to add, however, that there have been numerous cases that are enduring, often because the partners make the effort to exceed the initial idealized image and to communicate effectively. This normally comes with maturity. “The more mature the parties involved are, the more likely this will last.”
Before we parted and as an after thought, I asked him, “Does it really exist, this love-at-first-sight thing?”
“Yes, it does,” he said in all confidence.
“You’ve felt it?” I threw propriety to the wind and lobbed the prying question at him.
“Yes, I have.”
“Did it last? Are you still with her?”
He merely smiled and mumbled, “That’s my secret.”
Sure, love at first sight is a cliché, a really cheesy one at that. But here’s the thing about clichés: they endure because there is truth to them. Love at first sight has happened to some. It could happen to you. I wouldn’t hold my breath for it, though.
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Thank you for your letters. You may reach me at cecilelilles@yahoo.com or visit my blog at www.fourtyfied.blogspot.com.