Love, Chemically

There’s this song that’s been coming on Christian radio by a group called Hyperstatic Union called “Praying for Sunny Days.” It’s been going through my head all day, and it won’t get out. There’s a part during the chorus where the lead singer’s voice goes up in a really high, sweet sounding falsetto, and I just love it. There’s just something about hearing a sweet, warm, fluid falsetto that gives me a bit of an adrenaline rush. Some things cannot be explained. They just are.

I had a little break from the 6th graders yesterday—they had some activity or another—International Day, it was. So, since I’m what they call an “exploratory” teacher—those classes which go in 7 week rotations—I’m one of the guys they cut out when they have a special program or whatever. But, psshhh, I’m not complaining.

Well, anyway, during my break, I was reading the February edition of National Geographic and I was enthralled by the feature they had on the chemistry of love. Like, it explained the chemicals and processes that go on in our brains when we feel like we’re in love. It went on to say that studies were done and that the level of seretonin in the blood of someone “madly” in love (for this particular study, someone who had fallen in love within the past 6 months and obsessed about the love object for at least 4 hours a day) is not dissimilar the level of seretonin in the blood of someone who is suffering from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. So, love and mental illness could be difficult to tell apart.

But then it talked about how “studies around the world confirm that passion usually ends.” Our neurons become desensitized to the surges of dopamine that gives us that romantic high. And, as the article states, like cocaine users, we need more and more of the “drug” to produce the high. So it fizzles. That part kind of made me feel a twinge of sadness because it’s scientifically proven that the stars inevitably fade.

But then, there’s another hormone called oxytocin. “It’s a hormone that promotes a feeling of connection, bonding. It is released when we hug our long-term spouses, or our children. It is released when a mother nurses her infant.” So, after we’ve been burnt out on dopamine, if the relationship is to last, both partners have to sustain enough oxytocin levels to keep things going for the long haul.

I don’t know why this article fascinated me so much. I mean, as of late, I haven’t been blown away by any dopamine surges. But I guess it’s just like a scientific breakdown of one of my inner debates: What’s more important—the excitement of attraction (that will eventually fade), or the less exciting “good qualities” (that will need to be present to make things operate in the long run)? What’s more important—dopamine or oxytocin?

In the end, I know dopamine isn’t everything, but how can oxytocin even enter the equation if there’s never any dopamine to get things going in the first place? You knaamean?