What do Rats Have to Do With Romance?

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Today, we’re going to ruin some romantic words for you. Lovingly, of course.

We’ll peek into the origins of honeymoons, dig into the pain behind passion, and find out why a beheaded man is behind your Valentine’s Day plans. Oh, and there will be rats. But we’ll save those for last.

 

? Honeymoon: Sounds sweet, ends bitter

If you’re newly married and basking in the glow of your honeymoon, you might want to skip this section. Or don’t — and then impress your partner with some depressing etymology over dinner.

Let’s break it down.

“Honey” comes from exactly what it sounds like — actual honey. But not just any honey. We’re talking about mead, a fermented honey-based alcohol that was traditionally given to newlyweds in various cultures, especially in northern Europe.

The idea? If you drink mead for a full lunar month after your wedding, you’ll boost fertility and, ideally, pop out a child nine-ish months later. A real medieval baby hack.

“Moon” refers to that lunar month — about 28 to 30 days. That’s your window of bliss. After that, the stars go out, the rent is due, and you realize someone has to unclog the sink.

So yes, the word honeymoon comes with a built-in expiration date. Even back then, people understood that the post-wedding glow had a shelf life.

Some early uses of the word are even more pessimistic. In 16th-century English, it carried the implication that love wanes quickly. Thomas Blount’s 1656 glossary defined it as:

“A term proverbially applied to those married persons, who love each other most at first, and decline in affection ever after.”

Oof.

Also worth noting: honeymoon wasn’t always a noun. It started off more like an adverbial phrase — “to honeymoon” — describing the time period, not the trip. The whole idea of taking an actual vacation didn’t catch on until the 19th century, and it started as a European upper-class trend.

So in a way, the modern honeymoon is like romantic cosplay. You’re sipping cocktails in the Maldives, but your ancestors were probably downing warm mead in a thatched hut and praying for children.

Some traditions die hard. Others get filtered through Instagram.

?‍? Passion: When Love Meant Pain

We love saying someone’s “passionate.” It sounds noble, intense, maybe even a little romantic.

But the original meaning of passion? Straight-up suffering.

It comes from the Latin passio, meaning “to suffer” or “to endure.” That’s why we talk about The Passion of the Christ — not because Jesus had strong opinions, but because he, well… suffered a lot.

Some languages still wear that pain on their sleeve. In German, the word for passion is Leidenschaft, which literally breaks down into Leiden (suffering) and -schaft (a noun-making suffix, like “-ship”). Passion = suffering-ship. Yikes.

So yeah, being “passionate” about someone? Technically just glorified emotional pain. Wrap that up in a Hallmark card and hope for the best.

? Romance: From Common Tongue to Drama Bomb

Today, romance means candlelight, long walks, and maybe a Nicholas Sparks novel. But its original meaning? Not even close.

The word comes from the Old French romanz, which simply meant “in the Roman way” — in other words, not Latin. It referred to stories written in everyday speech, not the highfalutin Latin of scholars and clergy.

And what were these stories? Swashbuckling adventures, forbidden love, magical mishaps, knightly betrayals — basically medieval pulp fiction.

Over time, the drama and the love plots stuck, and “romance” started to mean what it does today. But originally? It was less about love… and more about stories your Latin teacher would call “unserious.”

? Valentine: A Beheading with Benefits

Every February, we’re out here buying heart-shaped candy and writing poems in cursive fonts. But we owe it all to a guy who may have been executed by the Roman Empire.

Saint Valentine — or possibly multiple men with that name — was said to have secretly performed Christian weddings in defiance of Roman law. Another story claims he healed a blind girl and sent her a farewell note signed “Your Valentine.”

The Roman Empire wasn’t feeling the love. He was arrested and eventually beheaded.

Centuries later, medieval poets and writers started linking Valentine’s Day with romantic love, especially the idea of birds choosing mates in mid-February. That’s when the whole hearts-and-flowers thing started snowballing.

So yeah — behind all the cute cards and awkward first dates is a very dead guy who may or may not have mailed the first love letter on death row.

? Amorous: Love, Rats, and a Bitter Ending

Amorous sounds soft and sweet — the kind of word you’d find in a sonnet or whispered across a candlelit table.

But if you dig around in older texts, especially in poetic or medicinal sources, you’ll sometimes find amor mentioned in the same breath as amarella — a bitter herb used in traditional remedies.

While the two words aren’t linguistically related in a strict etymological sense, writers often drew symbolic connections between love and bitterness. In some historical contexts, amarella was even linked to rat poison, adding a whole new flavor to romantic metaphor.

Bitter not just in taste, but in use. This plant, or its variants, was sometimes used medicinally… and sometimes to kill rats.

No, this isn’t an officially sanctioned etymology — it’s more of a poetic association.

But it tracks with how love was often described historically: sweet at first, then painful, obsessive, or even toxic. Literally, in this case.

So if someone calls you “amorous,” maybe pause before you blush. There might be poison in the punch bowl.

❤️ Final Thoughts: Love hurts. Etymologically.

Romantic words don’t always come from romantic places. Some come from pain. Some from wine. Some from trashy novels.

And one? From pest control.

Language is weird. Love, even weirder.