The French are so romantic.
La petite mort, or “the little death” is what the French use to describe an orgasm. I’ll let that sink in for a minute.
However, it can also be used to describe a time in your life of loss, when you feel like a little part of you has died.
I bring this up because I use the feeling of ‘la petite mort’ (not the orgasm) as a gauge of my feelings for someone. You see, I make decisions with my gut, or heart, but rarely my head. When I decide to pursue a woman for a relationship, it’s not because I logically think she’s a good fit, but because my heart leaps out for her and begs my head to rationalize it. Of course, my head can never turn down my heart!
Because of this I sometimes develop this huge sense of loss when I part ways with my date for the evening. It may just be the adrenaline pumping, but it’s as if a small part of me dies without that person near me- la petite mort.
Furthermore, I find that if this happens frequently with the same girl over an extended period of time, then she is someone special to my heart and should remain important in my life. Can you imagine feeling like a piece of you has died every time you part ways with your love? Is there no truer sense of passion than allowing a part of yourself to die for her? I mean, that’s classic Romeo and Juliet stuff. I’m talking metaphorically, of course. I don’t want any of you sliting your wrists tonight in an emotional rage. I don’t need that hanging over my head.
I love it. That is where romanticism is born. When you are willing to put it all on the line. When you’re willing to take a chance.
Tonight when you left, you took a piece of me- and I’ll never be whole again without you. la petite mort.
I’m completely in love with you.