9. ‘SCIENTISTS DISCOVER THE LOVE SPOT’

At the beginning of 2014, I was one of thirty-five volunteer subjects who took part in a brain-imaging experiment at University College London’s Galton Lab. What nobody knew at the time was that this was going to become a famous brain-imaging experiment when it was published as a paper called ‘The Neurobiology of Romantic Love’, which got international news coverage, typified by the New York Times headline: ‘Scientists Discover the Love Spot’. And so it stuck in my craw that out of thirty-five volunteer subjects, I alone was written off as a negative result.

So I just want to tell my side of the story.

We were each told to bring along with us to the Galton Lab four photographs: one photo of someone that you’re deeply in love with, and three photos of folk you are fond of but not deeply in love with. Then they hook you up to an electroencephalograph (EEG) because they’re tracking blood flow to see which brain regions are demanding oxygen from the blood when you look at which photo. If there’s a bit of the brain that lights up when and only when you look at the photo of the person you are deeply in love with then – BINGO – they’ve discovered the bit of the brain responsible for romantic love.

But when you look at photo of someone you’re deeply in love with you have all kinds of emotions, including guilt, regret, shame, fear, anxiety, delight, joy. All kinds of emotions and all kinds of thoughts too. I’m looking at this photo and I’m thinking: ‘Is this the best picture of me I could have brought?’

To control for what they call ‘background neuronal activity’ you have to look at each photo twenty times. Now with the best will in the world, after the fourteenth or fifteenth time of looking at the same photo you are not feeling the love. I confess that after a while I was going through the motions. And so I was astonished to hear a ‘huzzah’ from the control booth. The next moment, three neuroscientists came barrelling out the booth with a great cry of exaltation.

‘Oh wow,’ they said, ‘that’s the strongest correlation we’ve ever had! That’s what we call a golden spike! We’ve never had such a strong reading. Now, just to confirm, which of the photos were you looking at?’

‘I’m really sorry,’, I replied, ‘I wasn’t actually looking at any of the photos.’

‘Well never mind,’, they said, ‘which of the photos were you thinking about?’

‘I’m very sorry, I was thinking about something else altogether.’

‘Yes?’

‘If you must know, I was actually thinking about how you’ve set this experiment up. I was thinking neural activity lasts milliseconds and you’re measuring blood flow. That blood has got to go through the heart, I suppose, down to the toes and up and around and won’t arrive in the brain until three or four seconds too late. Combine that with the fact that millions of neurons need to fire simultaneously for there to be any detectable change in blood flow, then it’s as if you’re taking an aerial reconnaissance photograph of Greater Manchester on a Wednesday to find out what was happening backstage at the GMEX the previous Saturday. But don’t be discouraged. Don’t be downhearted. Clearly your machine has picked up something here. Maybe what we’ve discovered is the bit of the brain that lights up when we spot an elementary conceptual blunder in experimental design!’

And thus I was written off as a negative result.

I was escorted from the premises by a lab assistant. As she led me down one corridor after another she said not a word. And then it hit me: she thinks I’m a monster. The other thirty-four volunteers were all found to have the full complement of human emotions. I was probed and found wanting. No love spot there. Just gristle, just a gap. I’m the negative result. She thinks I’m a sub-human freak of nature! She thinks I’m a monster!

In an effort to humanise myself in her eyes I commented on a floral display, but the words that came out of my mouth were: ‘Pretty flowers!’

Now I even sounded like Frankenstein’s monster, or the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Down one corridor after another she led me. Still not a word. Then, at the end of a long corridor, she cracked a fire exit, turned, fixed me a look and said: ‘If you ask me, those fellers are looking for love in the wrong place.’ She stuck out a hand and introduced herself as Glynis. I was so grateful to be accepted back into humanity’s warm embrace that I took her hand in both of mine, held it to my cheek and said: ‘Soft skin of the kind lady!’ Then just as suddenly I snatched it back again.

‘Wait a second’, I cried. ‘You work for this laboratory too. So if they are looking for love in the wrong place where does that leave you?’

‘No, I’m not part of that project at all’, she answered. ‘I just have to assist on other team’s experiments as a condition of being able to use the lab’s facilities for my own research into the neurobiology of guilt. In fact we’re always looking for volunteers – would you consider taking part in one of my experiments?’

‘No, I wouldn’t want to do that.’

‘Why not?’ she asked.

‘Well, to be honest, I don’t really think the brain works like that. I don’t think there are these different discrete bits of brain that each do different jobs.’

‘Oh, that’s very interesting,’ she said. ‘Your view is what in neuroscience is called “wrong”. Let’s meet up in a week’s time and I’m sure I can convince you to change your mind.’