"I cannot help loving him or her," "It is a feeling stronger than myself," "It came over me suddenly," "It was a case of love at first sight."
Victims of Venus. The ancients expressed their strong belief in man's helplessness against the allpowerful fascination of the love object by calling the lovelorn a victim of Cupid or of Venus, a puppet of the gods, of fate.
And on the other hand, we behold modern and ancient lovers, whenever they feel that the love object is growing indifferent to them, reversing their attitude, denying their belief in love's involuntary character, and using words like fickle, changeling, to designate the love object they are losing. They speak of deception, of betrayal, of faithlessness.
"You no longer love me," they state reproachfully. They may ask the stupid question: "Why have you ceased to care for me?" Worse yet, they may say to the love object; "You should be ashamed of your inconstancy."
Such remarks are not infrequently coupled with another remark which goes more deeply to the root of the matter: "You should not show your indifference so plainly."
In other words pretence is expected when actual love has died.
And indeed nothing else could be expected logically by such illogical lovers, unless of course a deep affection, which may have grown between two human beings in the course of many years of life partnership, successfully masks the passing of the peculiar fascination which differentiates love proper from any other human feeling.
Love and Affection. We may love a human being more than ourselves, enjoy infinitely his presence, delight in giving to him mental and physical happiness, lavish on him a thousand caresses and yet not experience the flash of desire which leads compulsively toward complete physical communion with that human being.
A simile from the animal world will make my meaning clearer.