Crystal Mines of Love

This is a rarity: a post about LOVE on my blog. It's true. Believe it or not, the word/idea does cross my mind quite often, in various forms. Now, I shall make transparent one of these thoughts.
Today on the MRT, I sat across the train from a young couple. Now, this couple was a bit older than the usual highschool-hold-me-tight-I-hate-my-life couples you often see coming home at night. They were a bit more refined, yet active in their interaction. Thus, it was quite plain to see that this couple was in the early stages of love. Everything about them spoke clearly of their budding obsession: the way they hung on each other's every word, the way the managed to be oblivious yet incredibly acute to your surroundings at the same time, the way they forged excuses to be closer...to touch cheeks (which then granted an excuse to sneak in an all-too-short kiss) as they pointed out something to each other outside the window, even the clothes they wore. It was throbbing in their hearts and painted on their faces. It was refreshing. It was cliche. It was warming. It was nauseating. It was ....well, many of us have been there before.
My recounting of their actions and my musings on their joy is not the point of this discussion. No, it is more about the road my mind eventually waddled down while observing them...the road of thought of this time of relationship development. Now, my thoughts on the subject were fueled by my recent reading material: a short book called Lust, by Simon Blackburn. More specifically, my thoughts found themselves pondering a section of the book that describes the process referred to as "crystallization". It is exactly this stage of love in which this process is in fullest effect. But first, to quote on crystallization:
"'At the salt mines of Salzburg, they threw a leafless wintry bough into one of the abandoned working. Two of three months later they haul it out covered with a shining deposit of crystals. The smallest twig, no bigger than a tom-tit's claw, is studded with a galaxy of scintillating diamonds. The original branch is no longer recognizable. What I have called crystallization is a mental process which draws from everything that happens new proofs of the perfection of the loved one.'(Stendhal)"
This description gives us a lovely metaphor for this process. However, in my opinion, this metaphor leaves a bit t be desired.
First, as Blackburn points out, "...Stendhal's image seems a little overdone...If a partner sings out of tune, the lover does not so much hear it as in tune, as finds it strangely untroubling....They do see each others' cellulite, warts, and squints, but the strange thing is tha they do not mind them and may even find them enchanting." In my case, surely the young man has noticed that the boots she's wearing are a few months too soon, thus making them unpractical and ridiculous, but he probably views them as a charming quirk of her get-up.
Secondly, Stendhal's description of the branch as a "leafless wintry bough" seems a bit off. Using the metaphor as our lens, this image suggests that the relationship is tried and old, a stage at which point this 'crystallization' is no longer in full effect (or perhaps no effect or even the opposite). Anyway, anyone who claims to have been in love knows well of this stage and its consequences. Am I suggesting that these are negative consequences to be entirely avoided? Nay, this is perhaps the most enjoyable sage of love, and who knows if 'falling in love' would even happen without this process.
However, certainly there are some pitfalls to be vaulted in the area. High and clouded expectations lead to great disappointments as the crystals begin to dissolve over time. I dare say it is the duty of both the loved and the lover, the salt mine and the branch, to clarify a more balanced account of character. I would hate to see the lovers across me (whose company I'd grown fond of, or at least amused with, by the end of my metro journey) end up as another Taipei metro statistic, another wear-my-hood-and-hold-me-tighter casualty.