Loving You Takes All Of My Time…

“Exquisite music, Alexandra laughing… “

– Alexandra Leaving. Leonard Cohen.

Full time job really, this whole love shabang…

I did a little biochemistry research early this evening in a rather futile attempt to make some sense out of all this madness.

If you’ve not yet seen What The Bleep Do We Know I encourage you to do so pronto, or the next time you’re struggling to understand yourself or someone else’s behavior with regards to The Big L.

Good film. Sorted me out good and proper. Here you go:

What the Bleep Do We Know!? (also written What tнe #$*! Dө ωΣ (k)πow!? and What the #$*! Do We Know!?) is a 2004 film that combines documentary-style interviews,computer-animated graphics, and a narrative that posits a spiritual connection betweenquantum physics and consciousness. The plot follows the story of a deaf photographer; as she encounters emotional and existential obstacles in her life, she comes to consider the idea that individual and group consciousness can influence the material world. Her experiences are offered by the filmmakers as an illustration of the movie’s thesis about quantum physics and consciousness.

Basically, what I found interesting about this film is the bodies biochemical response to love.

What it does to us.

And why it takes up so much of our fucking time once it comes, silent in the night and smacks you across the face with a big fry pan, making you dumb, incapable of little and oh so very, very fucking happy.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand:

Sex hormones (testosertone and oestrogen) play the biggest part in what motivates us to get up and out of bed and into the world looking for something, anything– on the prowl– like big, fat hot cats. Right.

Women, of course, would be well aware that they’re in fact attracted to different sorts of men at different stages throughout their menstrual cycle. I know myself, when I ovulate I like to eat meat, be in charge, spar a little socially, and have a tendency to get a tad spiky. I’m attracted to assertive men during this time and find myself entertaining a rather glorious libido. Then BAM. As if by magic, the egg falls, and I fancy tea and crumpets and tall skinny boys with serious book habits. I’ve always found this intriguing. And as such would like to take this opportunity to blame the pill for so many women’s poor choice in partner. There. Said it. Meant it. It’s the drugs. It’s the drugs! Synthetic hormones are not for humans.  We can make our own fucking hormones. Up and down. Ying and yang. It’s all part of the deal. Joy and grief. You know the drill… Do some Bikram. Stimulate your hypathalmus yourself. Figure it out. Goodness.

So now that I’ve got that off of my big, heaving bosom– what of all this falling in love stuff then? Eh? I mean, really. Seriously. It’s pretty serious stuff. One of them Quick Acting Drugs: The loss of appetite and need for next to no sleep. The new found career of daydreaming and lucid night dreaming. The transferring of kinetic messages and thoughts, ideas, desires. How does it happen? Why does it happen? Does everyone know what I’m talking about or are we just nodding cause we’ve seen a few films and heard a few songs? It’s remarkable.

Blame it on the neurotransmitters, I say.

Of which there are a few.

Firstly we have, old boy Dopamine (also bouncing about in cocaine and nicotine, thank you very much);

Then Mr. Norepinephrine (commonly known as adrenalin– get’s the heart racing and is responsible for all that hot, hot sweating business which results in the lashings off of Egyptian cotton sheets on balmy autumn nights and that toasty long line from the cortex to the perenium of pure sexy, hot heat. You know the one);

Ar har… and Serotonin, which we all know keeps the happy people happy and the sad people sad. Low levels of the stuff are associated with anxiety and depression and then, as if by magic, love morphs that black dog in to a beautiful big, gay fucking butterfly of light and wonderment, tra la lar lar lar… Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.



This all consuming lovey-dovey stuff eventually calms itself down, right? Which is probably a good thing as we’d never get anything done. Shit. Fuck. Shit. I’m finding it really hard to get anything done. Deary me…

Actually, I only recently learned of the role Oxytocin plays in the endocrine system with regards to relationships. Now this bad boy is really interesting– or at least to me– as Oxytocin is responsible for emotional bonding. It kicks in a bit later down the track. It’s released in large quantities during childbirth so the mamma and the little baby become besties right away (and is obviously lacking in instances of post-partum depression). It’s also responsible for that super excellent sex you start to have after you’ve been together for a while as it continues to be released during intimacy. Ar har. True story. Oh and something about Vasopressin, which, to my knowledge, is the commitment hormone. Yep. Fedility has it’s own little hormone. Who’da thunk it?


So there’s your biochemistry lesson for the day.

You must excuse me.

I have a great many daydreaming hours left in my evening to fill with big, bold thoughts of someone really fucking special.



2 Responses to “Loving You Takes All Of My Time…”
  1. Erin says:


  2. hydrangea says:

    thanks for writing these pieces Alex, I’ve just found them and have spent more time than i can spare reading a few. entertaining and thought-provoking; i love that.

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