Falling in love

They call it "falling in love" because that's what happens: you fall in love with little or no prior warning, as if it were a tiger pit in the middle of an Indian forest.

They don't call it "easing in to love," or "walking in love," or "jumping in love," or "wading in love," or "running in love" or even "diving in love." All of those verbs imply some force of will, some sense that you intended this to happen and in fact moved toward it. Which is not to say that no one ever intends to be in love. Almost everyone does, and in fact we do say that someone is waiting for love, but the truth is when it comes it catches us by surprise, even if we thought we saw it coming.

Love is more like a black hole, pulling us in with an almost inescapable force somewhat akin to gravity and just as natural. Oh, sure, one can try to resist, and many do: clinging to anything they can as they skid their heels along the ground, ending up bruised and battered but out of love just in the nick of time. Once you've passed through the event horizon, though, there's no turning back. You are doomed to be drawn into and enveloped by love, which slowly wraps itself around you and begins to squeeze much as a boa constrictor does its prey. It overtakes you, it consumes you, it constricts your brain so that you can think of nothing else.

And just before you lose consciousness, you find yourself thinking that you've never felt so absolutely incredible in your entire life.

Dictionary of Sexology Project: Main Index

There she was, cuddled and cozy in her father's pea coat. Big clunky work boots and a black winter hat. Her cheeks were red from the fiercely cold wind and her eyes were huge and nefariously vulnerable. Pouting, arms crossed, waiting for me in the cold.

I watched her from afar, smiling at how helpless she seemed with her oversized clothes and innocent charm. I started over to her and then, suddenly, she was my world. She took over my senses. Her scent, warm and delicious, was all I could breathe. The traces of her vanilla lip gloss, the expensive perfume I bought her a week ago, her soap, her shampoo, mixed with her unexplainable bouquet.

Her cold hands slipped into my jacket and around my waist. I am not sure how her arms met at my back and rushed under my shirt, spreading her fingers across my skin. She hugged me tighter then I thought possible; she almost squeezed my breath away. Then her lips were on my neck, hot and soft, awaking me, alarming me, arousing me.

My mind swirled and spun as her black painted nails made little red lines across my back and our lips met. Slow teasing kisses. Pulling at her bee stung lips with my teeth. Her tongue a hot sweet treasure.

Then as suddenly as she penetrated my mind and my senses, she pushed me away and left me to stare into those blue eyes. She was smiling and her blush deepened.

Silently I reached up and let my fingers run over the warmth and wetness she left on my lips. She grabbed that very hand and pulled me to follow her though my city.

And it was my city! I never realized the majesty it held until I showed it to her. It was as if her presence and her playful kisses were some magnificent spice that brought out the flavor of the great feast that was New York. All along the black rivers of noise and faces, we roamed. We looked into magical windows, and theatres, and eyes, and got lost together. Lost in the gray city of museums and stone giants, libraries and antique shops, restaurants and boutiques.

In Time Square we dodged each other's gazes like children. I watched her staring up at a flashing sign, the sun was just setting and the lights made her powder-white skin glow. She almost caught me starring, but I looked away with a smile.

Then, so suddenly it nearly knocked me over, she attacked me with kisses. Her little mouth was hungry and hot. I marveled at the fact that she had to pull herself away from these kisses. My heart jumped as I saw the burning in her eyes, as I saw her breath catch.

Could she want me that much? I had never known this passion from a woman before, I had never witnessed this desire aimed at me. She struggled to stop herself from going too far in the middle of the sidewalk. I would have done anything for her at that moment. She loved me. For the first time I understood what it truly felt like to be loved an in its own way it was even more amazing then falling in love for the first time. My chest ached from the revelation, and my eyes grew wet.