What Is Love? (According to ChatGPT and Haddaway)
What is love? For a certain generation, that question brings not just the musings of poets and philosophers, but the unmistakable beat of a 1990s dance track: “What is love? Baby, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more.” The singer Haddaway asked this very question in his 1993 hit, a song that blasted out of nightclubs, radio stations, and eventually became an inescapable meme of the modern era. Yet, perhaps there is something more profound lurking beneath those pulsing beats and catchy lyrics than we might first think.
Haddaway’s refrain — “What is love?” — echoes the same ancient question that has perplexed thinkers and lovers throughout history, but with a twist: “Baby, don’t hurt me.” In those four words, there is an admission that love, whatever it is, seems inextricably tied to the possibility of pain. Haddaway captures what so many of us have felt but struggled to articulate — that love is not just about the desire for connection, but also the fear of rejection, the sting of betrayal, the heartbreak of loss. Love is an open door to joy, but also to suffering. It is a risky business, a gamble where the stakes are always high.
The dance track’s plea, “Don’t hurt me,” might seem like a simple, almost childish demand. Yet, isn’t it also profoundly honest? It gets to the core of what makes love so terrifying and so compelling: the knowledge that to love is to make oneself vulnerable. Haddaway doesn’t offer an answer to the question of what love is; instead, he gives voice to the fundamental human fear that comes with loving — that in giving our hearts to another, we may be hurt in ways we can’t control. And maybe that’s why the song resonates even now, decades later. It’s a dance anthem, but it’s also a universal cry for reassurance, for safety within the storm of emotion that love inevitably brings.
But let’s go further. What if Haddaway’s simple, repetitive lyrics — “What is love?” — aren’t just the chorus of a dance hit but are actually a reminder that the search for love’s meaning is never-ending? After all, Haddaway never answers the question. He never pretends to know. In that sense, his song becomes more than a moment in pop culture; it becomes a symbol of our perpetual search, our longing for clarity in a world that refuses to give us easy answers.
Haddaway’s dance track, built on electronic beats and synth-heavy melodies, might seem like the last place to find profound insights about love. But maybe it’s the perfect place. The rhythm — the repetitive beat that carries us through the song — mirrors the rhythms of our lives, the ups and downs, the twists and turns. Love, like the song, is cyclical. It returns to the same themes, the same questions, again and again: What is love? Will it hurt me? Can I trust it? And yet, like the song’s beat, love also carries us forward, always moving, always changing, always evolving.
Perhaps the most telling part of Haddaway’s contribution to our understanding of love is that he leaves the question open-ended. Just like the ancient philosophers, just like the poets, just like all of us — Haddaway doesn’t try to define love, he doesn’t pin it down, and maybe that’s the point. Love is not something that can be fully captured in words, lyrics, or even in actions. It’s an experience that defies complete understanding, a feeling that transcends the boundaries of language, genre, and generation.
So, what is love? Is it a dance track from the ‘90s? A chemical reaction in the brain? A divine madness? A social construct? Haddaway’s hit shows us that the question itself is as much a part of love as any answer might be. Love is the asking, the seeking, the yearning for connection without guarantees. It is a dance we keep dancing, even though the beat might change and the lyrics might fade. In Haddaway’s world — and perhaps in ours too — love is the thing that makes us move, that makes us ask, that makes us hope, even when we know it might hurt us.
Maybe, in the end, Haddaway had it right all along. Love is not a definition to be pinned down; it is a question to be lived, a song to be sung, a rhythm to be felt in every heartbeat. It’s less about finding the answer and more about embracing the dance, with all its potential for joy, pain, confusion, and clarity. So, “What is love?” Keep asking. Keep dancing. Keep hoping. Baby, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me no more.
