Why do we do it? Why do we continue to pursue relationships, despite what we know? Despite all we learn. We continue to follow along to find the next relationship, or we keep going back to the one we already have.

Why do love and the need for companionship do this to us?

If you stick your hand in a fire, you get burned. Odds are, unless you are very dense and have a sick enjoyment of blisters, you won’t do it again. But, the first time you are burned by love, you go back. And the second, third, fourth . . .

What is it about love and friendship that causes us to repeat the pain? Is it that rewarding? What does it provide us? For every high, there’s an equal low. For every moment you look into her eyes and see the world, you look into her eyes and see a wall.

When love ends, you feel a hole. A great, gaping hole that causes you to lay there and do nothing. Usually in the dark. This hole inside you is like a black hole. It sucks light and happiness in and only emits low-range bitterness. You lock yourself inside and do nothing but watch bad television and eat cheese fries. Yes, heart clogging cheese fries.

The lack of love is the greatest humiliation. You look at the world with rose-colored glasses when you are in love. When it’s over . . . you look at the world as your enemy.

We’ve all known the sweet pain of losing someone. Laying on your bed, feeling as though the world is closing in on you.

Love causes us endless pain. Even in the midst of the greatest love, you feel pain. She walks away from you. You look into her eyes, searching, but find nothing. You do all the wrong things. She hurts and you can’t help.

Love is a constant opening and closing of a wound. Healing, injuring, healing.

So why? Why do we do it?

Humans are one of the few animals that believe in monogamy. We’re one of the few that tries (many fail) to mate for life. But it’s hard. Damn hard. There’s hurt feelings, lost dreams, failed hopes.

Why?

I don’t know. I can’t say. But I know that some day I’ll see my little girls face down on a bed, sobbing over what a boy has done to them. And I’ll resist the urge to order a hit. I know that sometimes I do something profoundly stupid and hurt my wife, so that it’s her face down on the bed sobbing. And sometimes it’s my heart that is broken. Sometimes you have to watch your friends go through it. Sometimes even your parents.

Love, for all its grandeur and its pain is the one common denominator humans have. We may believe in different gods, live within a different moral framework, like different music, follow different political trails. But, if you sit down with your bitterest enemy, you’ll be able to commiserate about the pain of love. The sting.

So why do we do it? Because, in the end, the ecstasy outweighs the existential torment. The black hole eventually shrinks to the point where you’re able to function. The bitterness fades and suddenly, you forget the pain and seek the pleasure.

For there’s nothing in the world like a burgeoning love. The moment where two would-be lovers accidentally touch skin. Her hand falls on yours. You bump into one another while walking down the hall. The smell of her hair, or the look of that one pair of jeans she wears. The way her nose crinkles when she laughs or the way she hiccups.

The important thing is to not lose these things, no matter what is going on. Listen to the way she walks and watch the way she reads. Enjoy her faults, for they are what make her who she is. They make her interesting.

And don’t forget your own. You snore. You have gas too much. You’re quick to anger. You pout when you’re hurt.

Sometimes, we just need to go into the arms of the person we love and tell them, “Loving you was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” Or, “Thank you.”

Maybe we don’t do that enough. Maybe we are too obsessed by the agony vs. ecstasy of love.

But we can’t miss the small things, or we’re sunk. Brush her hair behind her ear. Put your hand on his five o’clock shadow. Feel how your hand fits into the small of her back. Or how strong his arms are when they are around you.

It’s the small things we miss. Don’t let them pile up. Look at them, appreciate them. Marvel at them.