How to fall in love with anyone following these steps

Falling in love is amazing and mysterious too. I always wonder how two people fall in love with each other?  More than 20 years ago, the p...

Falling in love is amazing and mysterious too. I always wonder how two people fall in love with each other? 

More than 20 years ago, the psychologist Arthur Aron managed to have two strangers fall in love in his laboratory. A few months ago I applied his technique in my personal life, which is why I found myself on a bridge at midnight, looking a man in the eye for exactly four minutes. 

Let me explain. That same afternoon, the man had said: "Given certain points in common, I think that one can fall in love with anyone. If so, how do you choose someone? "

How to fall in love with anyone following these steps
He was an acquaintance from the University with whom I occasionally met in the gym, and I had already thought about the possibility. I had an idea of his life through Instagram. But that was the first time we had spent time alone.

"In fact, there have been psychologists who have tried to make other people fall in love," I remarked, recalling Dr. Aron's study. "It is fascinating. I've always wanted to do the test. "

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I read for the first time about that study when I was in the middle of a breakup. Every time I thought of leaving, my heart was set in the brain. I felt stuck. So, as a good scholar, I turned my gaze to science in the hope that there would be an intelligent way of loving.

I explained the study to my acquaintance from the University. A heterosexual man and woman enter the laboratory through separate doors. They sit face to face and answer a series of increasingly intimate questions. Then they look each other in the eyes in silence for four minutes. The most fascinating detail: six months later, the two participants were married. The whole laboratory was invited to the ceremony.

"Let's try it," he said.

Let me first recognize that our experiment did not align correctly with the laboratory study. For starters, we were in a bar, not in a lab. Secondly, we were not strangers. And not only that but, as I see now, no one proposes or accepts an experiment to create romantic love if it is not open to that happening.

I searched Dr. Aron's questions on Google: they are 36. We spent the next two hours passing my iPhone across the table, alternately asking each question.

The first questions are innocuous: "Would you like to be famous? In what form? "" When was the last time you sang alone? To another person?"

But soon they become more inquisitive.

In response to the indication "name three things that seem to have in common you and your partner," he looked at me and said, "I think we're both interested in each other."

I smiled and had a drink of beer while he mentioned two other points in common that I soon forgot. We exchanged stories from the last time we cried and confessed what we would like to ask a fortune teller. We also explain the relationship with our respective mothers.

The questions reminded me of the frog's infamous experiment in hot water, which does not realize that the water is heating up until it's too late. In our case, because the degree of intimacy was gradually increasing, I did not realize that we had entered a very familiar ground until we were there, a process that usually takes weeks or even months.

I liked learning from myself through my answers, but I loved learning more about it. The bar, which was empty when we arrived, had been filled up by when we decided to take a break to go to the bathroom.

Sitting alone at our table, aware of the world around me for the first time in an hour, I wondered if anyone had listened to our conversation. If they had heard, I did not realize it. Nor did I notice when the crowd was fading and the night was late.

We all have a narrative about ourselves that is what we offer to strangers and acquaintances. But Dr. Aron's questions make it impossible to rely on that story. Ours was an accelerated intimacy, as I remember in the summer camps, when I spent the night talking to a new friend, exchanging the details of our brief life. At age 13, away from home for the first time, I felt it was natural to be able to meet someone quickly. But adult life rarely presents such circumstances.

The moments that I found most uncomfortable were not when I had to make confessions about myself, but when I had to venture to comment on my partner. For example: "Alternately, say something positive to your spouse, a total of five things" (question 22), or "Tell your partner what you like about her; Be very honest and say things you might not tell someone you just met "(question 28).

Much of Dr. Aron's research focuses on creating interpersonal closeness. In particular, several studies investigate how we incorporate others into our sense of ourselves. It is easy to see that the questions foster what is called "self-expansion." Saying things like, "I like your voice, your taste in beers, the way your friends seem to admire you" makes certain positive qualities belonging to one person explicitly valuable to the other.

It is amazing, indeed, to hear what others admire in us. I do not know why we do not go through life graciously flattering everyone else.

We finished at midnight; We took much more than 90 minutes of the original study. Looking at the bar around me, I felt as if I had just woken up. "It was not bad," I said. "Definitely less uncomfortable than it would be to look at each other in the eyes."

He hesitated a little but asked, "Do you think we should do that too?"

"Here?" I asked, looking around the bar. It seemed too weird, too public.

"We could go to the bridge," he replied, looking out the window.

The night was warm, and I was wide awake. We walked to the highest point and then came back to face each other. I set the timer awkwardly on my phone.

"Very well," I said, inhaling sharply.

"Very well," he replied with a smile.

I have skied on steep slopes and been hanging from a rock with a short rope. But looking at someone in the eyes for four minutes in silence is one of the most exciting and frightening experiences of my life. I spent the first two minutes just trying to breathe properly. There were many nervous smiles until we finally settled.

I know that the eyes are the window to the soul or whatever, but the real point of the moment was not just that I was seeing someone, but I was seeing someone who, in turn, was looking at me. Once I accepted the terror of this concept and gave it time for it to subside, I came to something unexpected.

I felt brave and in a state of wonder. Part of that astonishment was because of my own vulnerability and another part was that strange surprise that invades us when we say a word over and over again until it loses its meaning and becomes what it really is: a set of sounds.

The same thing happens with the eye, which is not a window of anything but a swarm of very useful cells. The feeling associated with the eye disappeared, and I was stunned by its incredible biological reality: the spherical nature of the eyeball, the visible musculature of the iris and the smooth, flat glass of the cornea. It was strange and exquisite.

When I turned the chronometer, I felt surprised, and a little bit relieved. But I also experienced a sense of loss. I was already beginning to see our evening through the surreal and unreliable retrospective lens.

Almost all consider that love is something that happens to us. We fall. It oppresses us.

But what I like about this study is that it assumes that love is an action. He assumes that what interests my partner interests me because we have at least three things in common, because we have a close relationship with our mother, and because he allowed me to look at it.

I wondered what would come out of our interaction. If there is nothing else, I thought it would at least give for a good story. But now I see that the story does not revolve around us: it revolves around what it means to take the trouble to meet someone, which is actually a story about what it means for the other to know us.

It is true that we can not choose who falls in love with us, although I spent many years expecting the opposite, and that we can not generate romantic feelings based exclusively on convenience. Science teaches us that biology is important: hormones and pheromones do their work behind the scenes.

But in spite of all this, I have come to think that love is something more malleable than we think. Arthur Aron's study taught me that it is possible _ and even simple _ to generate trust and intimacy, the feelings that love needs to grow.

Surely readers will wonder if he and I fall in love. Well, that's how it was. Although it 's hard to ascribe credit exclusively to study (it could have happened anyway), it opened the way for a relationship that feels deliberate. We spend weeks in the space of intimacy that we created that night, waiting to see what could become

Love did not happen to us. We fell in love because everyone made the decision to fall in love.

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