Why do we describe the act of loving someone as “falling in love”? It is not entirely clear who first used this expression, but it is said to have originated around the early modern period, around 1500, and some people connect it to Shakespeare. Fall in love has long become a commonplace expression in English, while the Chinese translation “坠入爱河” (“falling into the river of love”) carries a somewhat more refined tone.
Recently, I came across a short video: a little American girl was asked by a reporter whether she had a boyfriend. She replied that she did, and that they had been together for two years already. When asked how she got a boyfriend, she said: “You can get a boyfriend by talking to them, and then they will fall in love with you.” The girl was five years old.
The verb fall in highlights the uncontrollable, intense, and passive nature of loving someone, and in fact this wording captures an important part of the reality of romantic love. Falling in love is one of the most typical “transformative experiences.” This means that when we fall in love, we not only come to grasp the meaning of the word love and the psychology behind it, but the event also strongly reshapes nearly every aspect of our lives, big and small. What is even more fascinating is that not only does falling in love itself have this transformative power, but falling in love with different people leads to entirely different consequences. The power of love is indeed immense. And once we have fallen in, it is difficult to escape; widowhood, heartbreak, or unrequited love all force those who have fallen in to painfully extricate themselves.
This life-changing force is unpredictable—we do not know where, when, or with whom it will happen, nor do we know what kind of changes it will bring to our lives. Bold declarations of not wanting another relationship, or even vows never to marry, are usually valid only until the next time one falls in love. Those who have built an ideal model of a partner in their minds often find that the person they truly fall in love with is very far from that model. Those who once had clear career plans often find them swept away by the sudden arrival of love. Falling in love is like a mischievous spirit that takes no notice of our existing cognitive frameworks, but instead crushes them entirely with a force far greater than cognition itself.
“I never thought I would fall in love with someone who…”—this is a sentence I have heard countless times. For example, some women never imagined they would fall for a younger man; some men never imagined they would fall for a woman much younger or much older than themselves; some liberals never imagined they would fall for a conservative; some Chinese never imagined they would fall for an American, and so on. As a transformative experience, falling in love can even change a person’s political convictions—if they fall for someone whose convictions differ from their own.
But the expression fall into does not emphasize another part of reality: even though we fall passively into romantic love, we always do so within a certain framework—namely, the idealization of the other person. Idealization, too, is uncontrollable and intense, but it is active rather than passive.
Generally speaking, falling in love has three stages, and we can distinguish between the active side and the passive side. From the active side: in the encounter stage, when we develop a crush on someone, we are usually drawn to their appearance, and then we project an imagined ideal soul onto them, completing the act of idealization. Most crushes stop there; in a smaller number of cases, further connection occurs. In the dating stage, as mutual understanding deepens, the idealized soul comes into conflict with the real soul that is gradually revealed. A smaller number of these progress into intimacy. In the intimacy stage, the idealized and the real soul achieve a kind of Hegelian dialectical synthesis. In fact, as long as romantic love persists, the beloved person is always a synthesis of ideal and reality, never a purely real individual.
From the passive side: in the encounter stage, one experiences another person’s approach or even courtship, but resists because this person does not match one’s ideal model (often in terms of appearance). If the relationship progresses into dating, one gradually romanticizes the other, begins to respond to their affection, and thus experiences the same conflict between the idealized soul and the real soul. In the intimacy stage, the two souls again reach a dialectical synthesis.
For me, one unresolved question is the mechanism behind the passive side’s later-developing romantic love—the kind of affection that grows over time—since its formation seems quite different from the active side’s crush. But one thing I have thought through is this: in the dating stage, when the conflict between the ideal soul and the real soul is sharp—when the person we idealize turns out to be very different in reality, or even rejects us—can we still say it is love? Is that falling in love? In the past, I doubted and leaned toward saying no. But now I believe the answer is yes. Once idealization occurs, we have already fallen in love, and it is directed toward that particular person, no matter how great the difference between ideal and reality, no matter whether we are aware we are idealizing them. To deny this may simply be a fragile attempt to preserve our pride.
In any case, falling in love as a transformative experience teaches us this lesson: for those who wish to enter intimate relationships, it is wise to maintain an open attitude toward what has not yet happened. No one knows whom they will fall in love with in the future, or what changes it will bring to their life, and one should not try to constrain such an experience with one’s cognitive frameworks.
I have heard many people lay down strict and explicit rules for their prospective partners (height, income, age, etc.). But this practice clearly does not fit the nature of a transformative experience. Those who set such rules usually do not take romantic love seriously, and are more likely to treat intimacy as a means to other ends. I respect these choices, but I would urge others to see these intentions clearly—and personally, I do not think it is a good idea.
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