Nobody is in love. "Love" is just a story humans evolved to make up and convince themselves of after the fact because--like everything else with which we evolved--it led to a higher likelihood of survival and reproduction at some point in our past.
This glitch in your brain can be directly observed if you play close attention. Many of you probably have done this without consciously acknowledging it. For example, if you've ever had a oneitis and fapped to her, it's likely that the next time you were ready to fap (30 minutes or so later in my case), the thought of a different foid was more appealing to you.
People go to great lengths to deny this obvious reality. They will insist that they're deeply in love with their partners. Please note that this does not make love any more real.
A Christian insisting that Jesus exists doesn't make Jesus any more real. Just as the Christian is afraid of facing a reality without Jesus, these people are afraid of facing a reality without love. They're afraid of what their parents will think, what their friends will think, etc. There's nothing to be afraid of though.
This was an excellent analysis. However, I'll ask you for the privilege of letting me play Devil's Advocate if only for a little while. No small thing, I suppose, considering that Satan himself would resent something as low and as loathsome as myself speaking on his behalf. But if I cause our dear infernal lord any sort of offense, I doubt there's much he could do about it. After all, every truly ugly man belongs to the devil by default whether he likes it or not. Quite frankly, he probably despises it which is probably an integral part of his punishment. What are the agonies of Cocytus compared to the knowledge one of creation's abortions serves as your mouthpiece when, so very long ago, you were once the Creator's most beloved?
Yes, "love" is merely impulse: a basic, brutal drive. It's a vicious beast but a fundamentally beautiful one. You mentioned the Christians. Well, when pushed to describe what it is exactly they mean by the term "God", the deity they swear both their bodies and souls to, they'll speak of the uncreated Creator, the Living Word whose utterance not only spoke existence into being but forever perpetuates it. Those same Christians will tell you that God is Love. They are correct, in a sense, aren't they?
Love is whatever sustains life, allows it to flourish. We instinctively love beauty and despise ugliness because the former signifies fecundity and the latter sterility. A woman loves the handsome man because he'll father lovely children and secure her place in the unfolding of creation itself. Mortal though she may be, the embrace of beautiful man, a healthy man, provides her hope of participating, in some small way, in eternity. She grows sick at the thought of the abomination because his seed will bear nothing except rotting weeds and rapacious vines instead of sweet fruit. All of the myths about love aren't lies, they're merely gentle ways of speaking about the harshest of Nature's qualities.
God is Love but is willing to consign some of His children to Hellfire. Not a pleasant thought, almost scandalous, until one acknowledges what Love actually is. Love is kind but only to those who warrant it. It's patient with criminals who commit the worst moral offenses, will forgive a murderer and rapist of children, provided, of course, that the offender in question has a pretty face who can engender offspring just as pretty as he is. The man who batters his wife is offered an excuse because some woman found him desirable enough to accept his hand in marriage in the first place, regardless of how deeply stained with blood that hand may be or, having benefited from endless indulgences because the fingers it strikes its blows with are well-formed, eventually becomes.
We monsters, the truly ugly, have no words to speak when it comes to the Nature of Love. Which is hardly any surprise, is it?
The songs of angels are nothing more than glossolalia for those condemned to lend their voices to the choir of the damned.
