You didn't fall in love with that person, you fell in love with her image. This is some throw away dialogue from Syrup, the movie but it comes alive here because all of that association of love being all in your mind triggers thoughts of all the times I fell in love. Here are the catagories because the details of every time it happened would be phone book size:

She walked in with a red sweater- I'm in love. Maybe 500 times for this example. You're in a bar and Theresa Tittop walks in and it's love at first glance. Errrrrrhh, sorry Mr. H. your bulge is driving your fantasy at this moment.

She loves me - this time is different. You connect via flirtation and you say you just fell in love. I'll never forget what's-her-name...

Love the one you're with . . . look, man - it's what you signed up for so it must be real love. Please make it the real thing. Oooops, why am I still receptive if I'm already in the real thing

Then, if you're lucky, you are invaded with real love and it becomes the only thing worthy of doing and repeating and filling your days and nights with her. It's nothing about image - all those pretend loves were boner-based or ego driven. If I ever lose my mind about leavin' what I left behind, direct to here so I can laugh about image-based loves.