Damn you oxytocin!

It’s 12:44 AM and I’m reflecting on my very young love life. I try to do things differently with every guy but the results never change. It always starts with butterflies and roses and ends with agonizing feelings of abandonment and regret.

This time, the guy’s name is [ insert mame ]. Well, he is an interesting one; complete opposite of what would normally soak my panties wet and give me goosebumps. He’s short, light skinned and has a hairless face – basically my father. He had me at hello and now I’m saying goodbye. Goodbye to the precious moments we shared, or at least I thought they were.

Truth be told, it was one hell of a joy ride. Sex, sex and more sex. We lied to ourselves and categorized our specific dynamic as a friendship. He called me his friend yet treated me like a lover, a concubine and, to a certain extent, a whore. He blew the right amount of heat and cold.  He knew exactly how to stroke my ego while letting me down.

I confused love with attachment. A bond formed due to oxytocin, you know, that hormone in breast milk designed to create a bond between the mother and the child. Yes, well, turns out women also release also release oxytocin after an orgasm, this creating a bond between the woman and the man or whatever makes her cum.

I like to say I loved him because of made me feel capable. It made it easier for me to hang on to the little thread of hope that one day he’d come to his senses and see that I was the one for him, when in actual fact, I knew that would never happen. Damn you, oxytocin! Damn you. Damn you for letting me believe that I was in love with him. Damn you for leading me into the lion’s den drenched in bloody seasoning. But Google, thank you for the little piece of information that showed me the distinct line between love and attachment. Now I know that I’ve never really loved, I’ve just bonded – I just bonded due to the results of instant gratification.