Like a shot of tequila mixed with an internal car crash, strong, familiar emotions, long dormant in my chest, will leap, whirr, pulse or snake their way to the surface and…boom. If not “love at first sight” (or “love within early days”), then I’ve still felt something right away. They prompt a rush of why-am-I-acting-this-way, WTF-am-I-feeling processes that evade total comprehension by my brain’s left hemisphere. These notable moments have forced me to acknowledge that those early, irrational, impulsive somethings might be the canaries in the coal mine of a complicated phenomenon. At 24, with my current guy, a flutter of anger snapping to the surface at a difference of opinion, in such a heat wave of irrational attraction I couldn’t stop recalling it for months. At 21, with my first adult relationship, locking gazes across that crowded bar, slowly trading glances and sips of our drinks until he finally walked over to me. My memory has captured these something moments like snapshots: At 16, with my first crush, sharing witty banter at our desks, getting lost in his gray-blue eyes. Whenever I analyze the process by which I’ve come to experience strong feelings for someone - feelings that have or could have resulted in romantic love - I’ve noticed the sequence always starts with a distinct flurry of inexplicable chemistry. In recent years, however, something has started to bug me. Theoretically, then, I should not believe in love at first sight. It should never be tossed out haphazardly, without adequate forethought and some semblance of sureness.
Love always felt so much weightier than something one could experience at a glance it was connection, emotion, understanding, patience. I was much too rational to believe in such mystical forces. I always balked at the concept of “love at first sight” when it was nauseatingly perpetuated in the songs and movies I enjoyed growing up.
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