Isn’t it funny how people like to keep science and emotion in separate corners as if they don’t belong in the same conversation? One is based on facts, concrete evidence, and quantifiable results. The other is all about the heart, the things that can’t be seen, the things that don’t always make sense. But after decades as a dermatologist, a teacher, and a man who’s lived a whole, sometimes bumpy life, I’ve come to believe that the two aren’t so separate after all.
Suppose you’ve read Tampa Airport Proposal, A Love Story, or you’ve found your way to my website. You probably already know that love, for me, hasn’t been some vague or poetic idea floating around in the distance. It’s something I’ve experienced deeply and in ways I never expected, especially later in life. And honestly, I think my background in medicine helped me understand love in a way that’s uniquely layered. Scientific, yes. But emotional, too. Profoundly so.
So let’s talk about it.
The Biology Behind the Butterflies
I think most people are familiar with the “chemicals” involved in love: dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin. They are often mentioned in magazine articles and casual conversations as if they fully explain why we fall head over heels for someone. But those chemicals aren’t just buzzwords. I’ve seen firsthand, in my medical practice and in my own body, how powerful they are.
Dopamine, for instance, is primarily associated with reward. It’s the reason your heart skips a beat when your phone buzzes, and it’s them. Oxytocin, the so-called “cuddle hormone,” floods in during moments of connection, like when you hold someone’s hand or sit in silence feeling completely safe. Even cortisol, the stress hormone, has a role in this story because love isn’t just about butterflies. It’s anxiety and hope and sometimes fear, especially when we risk our hearts.
When I reconnected with Nancy, an old flame from high school, the experience wasn’t just nostalgic. It was physical. I felt it in my chest, in my skin, in my sleep (or lack thereof). Even though I knew what was going on biologically, it still seemed incredible. That’s what bothers me. It still feels like a dream, even if science can explain how it works.
Love as Medicine
In my career, I’ve seen people heal in unexpected ways. I’ve watched patients respond not just to treatment but to kindness. To touch. To be truly seen. In a way, that’s love, too. Not the sort that says, “You matter,” but the kind that says, “You matter.” I care. And I’ve learned that all types of love can be healthy for you.
I usually tell my patients, “You’re more than your diagnosis.” This is true in medicine and life. We are more than only the symptoms or scars we have. And love has this strange way of seeing through all of that. It doesn’t ignore the flaws, but it wraps around them. That, to me, is one of the most potent aspects of love. It can hold space for the whole person.
When Nancy and I started talking again, we were in our late seventies. We’d both lived our whole lives with kids, marriages, and heartbreaks. We carried our own sets of baggage. But there was an ease between us as we’d finally reached a point where we didn’t need to be anything other than exactly who we were. That kind of love, the kind that accepts, that sees, that doesn’t flinch, is the kind I wish for everyone. And I believe it’s one of the healthiest things a person can experience.
The Scientific Mind Meets the Romantic Heart
Being a doctor can make a person overly analytical. And in some ways, you’re right. I tend to think things through carefully. I like data. I like patterns. I like understanding how things work. But I’ve also learned that love doesn’t always follow a clear path. It’s not linear. It’s not tidy.
You can analyze the signals and hormones all day long, but love still has a way of catching you off guard. It did for me. I wasn’t looking to fall in love at my high school reunion. I wasn’t planning to propose in the middle of Tampa Airport. But there we were. Two people who had found each other again after decades, knowing it was right.
And here’s where the science helped me lean in. Because I understood how precious time is. I’ve looked into the eyes of people who ran out of chances. I’ve seen what happens when people don’t speak their truth. And I knew, from a very real and grounded place, that life doesn’t always give us a second shot.
So I took mine.
Aging and Affection
There’s this assumption out there that love belongs to the young. That falling in love is something you do in your twenties, maybe thirties, if you’re lucky. But that’s just not true. I think love at this stage in life, when you know yourself better, when you’re less caught up in proving something, is richer. Quieter, maybe, but no less powerful.
Nancy and I have discussed this at length. We’ve both had pasts. We’ve both made mistakes. But what we’ve found together feels like the reward at the end of a long journey. And it’s not flashy. It’s not built on lust or infatuation (though those things are still alive and well, thank you very much). It’s built on knowing. On showing up. On choosing each other again and again.
And science supports that, too. Studies have shown that older couples often experience deeper emotional satisfaction. We prioritize emotional connection over drama. If we forgive more easily and pay more attention to what matters, that may be wisdom. Maybe it’s just what you know. But it’s real, no matter what.
Bridging the Gap
So, this is where I stand. Science and feelings don’t have to be enemies. They’re two sides of the same thing. Science helps us understand what’s happening in our bodies and minds when we fall in love. Emotion provides us with the courage to do it anyway, even when it’s scary.
Love is the ultimate intersection. It’s where the heart meets the head, where biology meets poetry. Where logic meets vulnerability. And if you’re lucky, like I’ve been, it’s where the past meets the present, and something extraordinary begins.
If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be writing love poems, planning a wedding, and being interviewed on national TV about a surprise airport proposal, I would’ve laughed. But here I am. Living proof that love doesn’t follow the rules. It just shows up. And when it does, you’d better believe I’m listening with both my heart and my stethoscope.