D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
July 2009
Cupid's Test Tube
Looking for love potion number 10.
As a product of public education, I am documented as an educated, well-rounded individual fit to function in polite society. I learned important things, such as how a Tater Tot tastes dipped in a milkshake and how to scratch a Van Halen logo into a desktop. I also learned things about chemistry and English literature, two topics that had very little to do with each other. I mean, what does the periodic chart have to do with sonnets and poems of love? Thankfully, the Los Angeles Times recently reported that some lab-coated Melvins in upstate New York are attempting to quantify love scientifically.
Proving that there is no real science left to discover, some lab rats at the State University of New York at Stony Brook took it upon themselves to study the effects of love on the human brain with an MRI (Mind Reading Instrument?) machine. They strapped in a bunch of doe-eyed students who had just fallen madly in love and mapped the shenanigans in their brains when they were shown a photo of their respective snuggle-bunnies.
The machine recorded activity in the feel-good part of the brain that produces dopamine, a chemical that also makes cocaine, nicotine and nachos exquisitely addictive. Dopamine is enjoyable to the point of addiction.
Next up, they ushered in a few geezers who had been married more than 21 years and gave them the same test. A different part of the brain responded that is rich in a chemical called oxytocin, described as a "cuddling" chemical. Oxytocin generates an emotional, nurturing response that has been linked to monogamy and long-term attachment in less than three percent of animals, including the lowly vole, which is apparently some kind of mammal.
Of course, all the mad scientists are cackling with maniacal glee over their bubbling phosphorescent test tubes, coming up with ways to synthesize dopamine and oxytocin so they can party like rock stars.
But instead of trying to map out the chemical composition of love, maybe they can work on finding cures for some of the more common ailments between the sexes. What good is attending a multi-syllabic institution of higher education if one can't even figure out the most fundamental problems of love?
Case in point: When a man meets a woman he falls in love with, he likes her just the way she is. She is perfect in every way, and needs no adjustment. Yet, she will change, and men are not well engineered to handle this.
Conversely, a woman sees a potential mate for whom he could be, eventually. Women see the diamond-in-the-rough, the perfect material that can only be improved upon. Unfortunately, men are simple creatures who enjoy watching sports, drinking beer and insulting mothers-in-law, so the prospects for eternal bliss are limited. If a relationship is based on such misaligned expectations from day one, is it any surprise that 90% of the calls they answer on "Cops" are domestic disturbances?
Here's a novel idea for those ivory-tower Poindexters: Recalibrate the MRI machine to find out what chemical we need to keep love in our beating hearts, not our squirming brains. We know that dopamine gives us a rush, a wallop upside the libido that makes us enjoy life to an unsustainable level. It seems, however, that oxytocin is the dark-horse favorite, the cerebral slurpee syrup that gives us the best chance at the long-lasting kind of love that the old people who still hold hands in the doctor's office share.
Can the geniuses at SUNY-Stony Brook figure out a way to marinate the heart muscle in oxytocin, giving each of us the shared gentleness and warmth we need as an anchor for our lives? I would love to be able to pop a discreet Oxy pill each morning to avoid having to concern myself with the absence of the toothpaste cap. If Oxy compels me to take a moment each and every day to understand a love-song lyric in a new way, or to take the time for one more cuddle every morning, then shoot me up, Dr. Feelgood.
Scientists are exceptional people, although probably not much fun at cocktail parties or strip clubs. Knowing that science is dissecting the chemical components of a grand emotion like love doesn't seem to be any more logical than asking a mule skinner to build a submarine. I am happy to know now that my head has a few shots of dopamine and oxytocin gurgling around in it, but whatever purpose it may serve, it can't explain the eternally complex emotions involved with love.
If science can dismiss that as just a mere chemical reaction, then it will be a lonely universe indeed.