At least according to Nazareth, the Everly Brothers and the J. Geils Band.
And, if the popularity of those lyrics speaks to anything, it's the suggestion that people agree with those sentiments.
But it's not really love that hurts and stinks.
It's just dealing with people.
And I don't - believe it or not - mean that in a negative way.
It's just that dealing with people is really and truly difficult sometimes. It's especially difficult when you do happen to love them. It's even more difficult when you happen to be invested in their happiness and satisfaction. It can hurt and stink up a storm.
And sometimes the people who love you the most can make you the most crazy.
But the saving grace in our love relationships - be they with family, lovers or friends - is that those relationships are generally long-term. Even if they're not forever relationships, they're usually long enough that we get to go through a lot with the other person. We get to be there through a lot. We get to be tested and proven a lot. We get to demonstrate our all-season strength, support and solidarity. We get to show our many sides. Best of all, we get to show our inner souls. When there's time enough to let our guards down, we often do.
And, in our love relationships, even though there may be hurt and stink from time to time, there's generally enough of a long haul to experience plenty of the pleasure that balances it all out and makes it worthwhile.
But dating?
That hurts.
And it stinks too.
But not because it's boring.
And not because it makes you stay up way later than you normally would.
And not because you have to feign interest in someone after you realize you couldn't kiss them if your life depended on it.
And not because you'd rather be home watching Everybody Loves Raymond reruns after you realize that high school was your dinner companion's last known activity before your date.
Dating hurts and stinks because it's not long term.
In dating, it's all very brief and very raw. Raw experience without the safety and security of the long haul to assure you that any discomfort will be balanced out by pleasure. In dating, there's no guarantee of time for comfort.
It wouldn't be a problem if dating were innocent.
But no dating I know of is innocent.
The people I know - including myself - share experiences on dates. They share more than a coffee or drink or dinner. The folks I know tend to share an intimate interaction of some sort.
Even when the chemistry's uncertain, there's still usually some connection involved in the dating dance. Whether it's the telling of personal history, relating on some critical point or making some physical contact, there's usually some connection. There's usually some aspect of shared intimacy.
People say "it's just coffee" or "it's just dinner."
But it's more than that.
It's two people who may or may not ever see each other again. Two people who will experience something together. Something involving pure energy, vulnerability, hope and possibly disappointment. And possibly all at once.
If dating were long term, it would be okay. Because all of those things are manageable in the long term. All of those things are not such a big deal when balanced with the other aspects of a long term interpersonal dynamic.
But in the short term world of dating, it can be like a hit and run. Sometimes those things just hurt. And stink.
So I guess there are a couple of choices:
First Choice: accept that dating's a necessary evil and take the grin-and-bear-it approach. Hopefully you'll be a little more enthusiastic than grin-and-bear-it if you choose to have sex with your date.
A second choice is to just not date. And just hope that you'll fall in love with whatever the cat drags into your living room. This choice assumes, of course, that your cat's an outdoor cat. Boo, of course, is a spoiled prince of an indoor cat. So technically I can't choose option two even though I tend to choose it anyway.
Choice number three is to pretend that the date itself is forever and experience everything you'd experience in a long term relationship while on the date.
Unfortunately, this is not only logistically difficult, but it's also potentially exhausting. You'd have to laugh, cry, be understanding, be silly, be entertaining and get sick. All on the same date.
Oy.
And then there's choice number four. I think choice number four is the choice of choice.
Speed dating.
With time.
The way that speed dating with time works is this:
You do the basic speed dating thing. You spend the seven minutes of speed dating with the person to see if you basically click. To see if you'd want to kiss the person, sit on his lap (or have her sit on your lap, depending), run your fingers through his hair (or over his dome, depending).
After the seven minutes, just like in speed dating, you decide if you want to follow up with the person. And vice versa.
If you both want to follow up, you set up a date.
Plus six more.
That's right. You commit to seven dates.
But not just any dates.
Seven dates that are typical of what loved ones would experience in a long-term loving relationship.
Now you do get one basic introductory dinner date where you get to know each other and do the whole eye flirt routine.
As for the other six dates, you can choose the time and place but certain criteria must be met.
One date must take place with one individual's family present. For purposes of this choice, family is defined as a group including but not limited to at least one of the most difficult relatives.
And one date must take place over a holiday.
One date must take place when there's no food around and both parties are really too tired to go to a restaurant.
Another date must take place at a distant location completely unknown to both parties and the directions must be poorly written. It's a requirement that the directions be poorly written.
A fifth date must take place during the female party's menstrual cycle. If the female is a non-menstruating individual, this date may take place during or immediately after the male partner has tried to build or fix something for which parts were missing.
And, finally, a sixth date must take place just after either party has experienced a truly horrendous and demeaning week of work.
Choice number four - the choice of choice - is called the 7&7. Except there's no requirement that Seagrams be involved.
When I was in the fifth grade, a small precocious group of us played kissing games on Friday afternoons when a certain little boy's mom wasn't home.
7 Minutes in Heaven meant one of two things. Either seven minutes in the closet giggling with someone you liked and pretending for everyone that you kissed passionately. Or the longest seven minutes of your life locked up with someone gross who breathed really loud.
My suggestion of choice number four, 7&7, can go either way. A short silly 7 or a really l-o-o-o-o-n-g 7.
But at least it's not hit and run.
And at least there's food.
And at least if there's any hurting and stinking it will be a burden shared by two instead of one.
And you know what they say:
"A burden half shared is always much easier when there's someone else there to curse at."