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"The tandem instructor lays the harness at my feet and motions for me to step inside so he can yank the hefty girdle up to my shoulders. &amp;quot;So, when we get onto the plane, I&amp;#39;ll hook on to you here,&amp;quot; he says as he tugs on two metal hooks at my hips, &amp;quot;and just before we jump, I&amp;#39;ll hook on to you here.&amp;quot; He pulls on matching hooks beneath my shoulder blades, and I turn to face him. &amp;quot;We&amp;#39;ll get inside the door, and I&amp;#39;ll count to three and we&amp;#39;ll push out. When we do, I need you to kick your legs back like you&amp;#39;re trying to hit my butt. And when I tap your shoulders, you can put your arms out. Any questions?&amp;quot;\nPinterestFacebookUm, yes. &amp;quot;What if all the hooks don&amp;#39;t hold? And exactly how many parachutes are in your backpack? What happens if they don&amp;#39;t deploy? What happens if I pass out? What happens if you pass out? Don&amp;#39;t I need to know how to pull the shoot? Land? Not die?&amp;quot; I was nearly breathless by the time I&amp;#39;d ticked off all my fears about jumping out of an airplane flying 14,500 feet above the ground.\nThe thing is, skydiving is a lot like falling in love. We know in principle that it could work out, that whether we take a leap from a plane or a leap of passion, we could land on our feet or find The One.\nBut we also know we could land on our face, smooshed like a pancake on the proverbial landscape of romance.\nSo with no guarantees and plenty of horror stories&amp;#8212;our own and those we&amp;#39;ve heard through the grapevine, like the story of a 20-something man who died in March because his skydiving partner accidentally kicked him midair&amp;#8212;why do we keep taking chances? Don&amp;#39;t we have enough broken bones and hearts to justify staying safely on the ground and decidedly single?\nAs scared as I was, I still took the three-mile-down leap last week. For the first several seconds of the 60-second free-fall, I couldn&amp;#39;t breathe. Forget butterflies &amp;#8212; I had flutters the size of ostrich wings in my stomach. I remember thinking, Am I going to feel like this the entire way down?\nBut then my instructor tapped my shoulders and I thrust my arms out. I took in the horizon. I wondered at the mist as we whizzed 120-mph past thin clouds. And then I laughed with pure joy. Because by now I&amp;#39;d forgotten about the risk. I was flying.\nSimilarly, I think that&amp;#39;s why we continue to take leaps of faith when it comes to love. Yes, we know we could end up wasting our time or worse, left brokenhearted with the kind of tears that even the best ice cream can&amp;#39;t curb. But nothing beats the feeling of being in love&amp;#8212;it&amp;#39;s like the feeling equivalent to flying. So we keep taking the risks and keep hoping it will work out for the best (i.e. we&amp;#39;ll land on our feet with a great guy).\nWhat do you think? Why are we willing to take chances when it comes to love, knowing it could end in heartbreak?"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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