Play along with me here for a minute.
Imagine some drunk wandering down the sidewalk at 3 in the morning. He’s got a cigarette dangling from his lip and a half-empty beer bottle he’s sloshing around in his hand. He’s alternately singing “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” kicking the rearview mirrors of parked cars, and sobbing.
He’s a sad sight — until he slips on the ice in front of your house.
You run out and help him to his feet. He thanks you, pinches your cheek, and says, “I love you man.” You hand him his now empty bottle, shove him off, and think that’s the end of it.