I’m lovin’ it

Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.

Ewww. A McDonald’s slogan for a headline on a column about love. I’ll bet if I was feeling really creative, I could come up with some parallels between how America’s desire for toxic food is similar to love, the topic of Kat Kerlin’s excellent and timely cover story. Let’s see. Big Macs are full of chemicals. A Big Mac can feel really good in the beginning; really bad when it hits bottom. A Big Mac can leave stains on your jeans.

OK, Burghart, you’ve gone far enough.

Honest-to-god, I am the last person anyone should listen to when it comes to matters of love. I freaking love it, though. The rush of passion, that zing that goes through your nervous system when you get a text message, the complete, utter abandon. Love to me—at least that first heat of love—is like that feeling you get when you hit black ice at the Spaghetti Bowl: You’re kind of in control, kind of not. Really, not.

But doesn’t it suck that love is such a stupid (willfully ignorant) emotion? Your friends will set you up with people with whom you’re compatible on the surface, and honestly, when I think about the great loves of my life, the people I was most similar to—intellectually, emotionally, physically—were the loves that endured. And yet, I can name about a hundred friends and acquaintances with exactly the opposite experience. I mean, I guess if you’re an asshole, a similar person isn’t exactly what you need. Not that my friends are assholes, but you know what I mean.

A friend recently accused me of liking bad girls. Since she lives a secret life as a bad girl, I guess she knew a little of what she spoke. I’ve thought about that comment a lot lately because it’s close, but not quite right. I like brave women. And isn’t it interesting how brave and bad often intersect? Timidity and passion have a difficult time coexisting, and you know what? Timidity must be the stronger emotion because it kills passion every time. And on that note …