They included it on the U.S. version of Hair of the Dog, and it was probably their biggest hit. They got the title right, at least, even if they were wrong in most of the lyrics. Yes, love hurts.
I used to think that maybe that was only true when one or the other of the lovers (a word I'm applying more broadly than its senses of romance or sexuality) failed the other in some egregious way, or when tragic circumstances intervened to knock presumed destiny off its rails. I've seen enough of the former, unfortunately, including being the offending partner, and have fancied myself the victim of the latter.
I've known better for some time now. It seems to be part of the nature of love, of making ourselves vulnerable, that hurt becomes an inescapable part of it. Those unwilling to hurt are incapable of loving well. I started to post on Facebook a trite and overstated observation that love only hurts when you do it right, then realized how utterly ridiculous such a statement would be. The truth is far more nuanced: love's hurt is best and most worthwhile when you do it right.
Sometimes in this life we're blessed with the opportunity to love another, in family, in romance, or in friendship - the best marriages, including my own, combine all three - and to end up feeling the pain that results from whatever life happens to bring along the way. Such pain is a gift, a small taste of the Father's great love for us that motivated God to move heaven and earth to be reunited with us, for our own sake. To walk closely in God's love with a precious brother or sister for a priceless time that draws to its proper close is an exquisitely painful and unspeakably beautiful experience.
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