The queen in the book I’m reading wins a sword fight against a neighboring king and celebrates her victory with all the men in her kingdom at a great feast. Her reflections at the end of the night show not only the appeal of abusing ennobling vices, but the appeal of abusing ennobling virtues as well.
But now I discovered the wonderful power of wine. I understand why men become drunkards. For the way it worked on me was–not at all that it blotted out these sorrows–but that it made them seem glorious and noble, like sad music, and I somehow great and reverend for feeling them. I was a great, sad queen in a song. I did not check the big tears that rose in my eyes. I enjoyed them. To say all, I was a drunk; I played the fool. (C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces, p 224)
Drink can make you play the fool when you seek through it a justification it was never meant to give. So can love.