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You're sitting behind the
wheel of your van at an everlasting traffic
light. The only thing
 slower than the traffic is
your perception of time's passage.
Then you notice her.
She appears at the curb, waiting to cross.
No, she's not the love of your life. She's more
like the heat of the moment. It's fortunate that
your wife isn't there, otherwise you'd be in
deep trouble as you take in the stranger's hips
and breasts, and the way her waist scoops in to
accentuate both. Time is enhanced; there's a
pleasing buzz connecting your temples.
Your reaction is
automatic, reflexive, and quite possibly the
most powerful one you'll have this day. It
temporarily blots out your long-range
commitments--that 10-year marriage, that kid in
second grade, that responsibility to keep eyes
forward at traffic lights. You've surrendered
control; you're captivated by the pleasure in
the vision.
"You dog!" you may
whisper under your breath, embarrassed by what
you're envisioning as you sit there in your
family van. But it might be more correct to say,
"You dopamine fiend!" As a neuroscientist of 25
years, I know that your brain is command central
for everything sexual.
When you spot the object of your desire, the
neurotransmitter dopamine lights up areas deep
within the brain, triggering feelings of
pleasure, motivation, and reward. (Cocaine acts
the same way.) You feel a rush, and your
heartbeat quickens. Attraction, too, is a
powerful drug. The brain stem also gets into the
act, releasing phenylethylamine (PEA), which
speeds up the flow of information between nerve
cells. It's no wonder your neck and eyeballs
track her every movement.
But she's not gawking back at you, and it's not
just because you're driving a family bus with a
paint scrape on the fender. Her brain acts very
differently from yours. You're keyed in to
beauty, shape, fantasy, and obsession; on some
biological level that she may be unaware of,
she's trolling for a mate who will sire healthy
children and protect and provide for her and
them. And yes, maybe even buy them a family van.
Her goals are programmed for the long range;
yours are often shockingly short term, right up
to and including thoughts of pedestrianophilia.
And she knows it, which is why she presses those
short-term buttons shotgun-style: She never
knows when a suitable mate might be looking.
The whole encounter can leave you quivering with
pleasure, hoping for more.
It can also hijack and ruin your life.
And between the "walk" and "don't walk" signals
of delight and disaster, your brain is sorting
information, making choices, spurring actions.
But you don't want to passively accept all that,
especially because your whole life is riding on
the choices you make.
That's where I come in. I know the brain
processes behind the temptations, and I can help
you steer clear of trouble. After all, that
woman in the crosswalk could help you realize
your destiny, or derail it entirely. All the
more reason to get to know that big sex organ
between your ears so you can control the
smaller, less important one between your legs.
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