Fools fall in love. And I don't mean that figuratively, I mean it biochemically. Sleep patterns change; behavior patterns change; obsession occurs; eating habits change; people act like damn fools and imbicils when in love (er, one should say "even more than usual"). This is a bad thing.

It is always the case that, seven times out of eight, the object of ones' neurotic obsession does not return that ador. Indeed, it is usually the case that said "object" is decidedly of a mind diametrically opposite that of the fool in love. To wit, not only not the least bit interested, but actively (i.e. repulsed) counter interested. At her politest (and yes, it is nearly always a she who is the uninterested party), the one in love may expect a warm, sweet "Not you! Not ever! Not if you were the last male mammal on Earth!" when one, quivering heart in ones' hands, expresses ones' neurotic obsession (i.e. "love").

Yes, I did say "seven out of eight." That eighth may requite. Or at least claim to. Usually when someone says "Do you love me?" and the other says "Yes," the latter is lying. The latter is usually male, hince lying comes easy.

The single most dreaded question males fear is the one that all female love interests (i.e. objects of neurotic obsession) often ask: "WHAT ARE YOU FEELING NOW?" No male in his right mind answers this question honestly: to do so would make his love interest kick him out the door, saying "Don't call! Don't visit! Don't ever draw another breath! Turn blue and die!" This is because the male is feeling one or more of the following:

All things considered, being in love is still worth the tormet. If it wasn't, people would stop doing it, right?
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