Parody is another kind of adaptation ultimately. We mock your faults, making fun of them and think we nail down something but in reality nothing important changed. And we called this postmodern and gradually get used to it. Between Adaptation and Revolution, we have mockery.
Is the infinity of love an illusion? The dialectics of love an imagination? Of course love has its limit. Usually the limit is that of individuals involved. We all have those jokes which are not so 'laughable' like saying we've used up the QUOTA of love, so and so. Indeed that finiteness is not only from the immanence of the subject, but also deals with the deconstruction of dual-structure of love itself. I love you, but when I am going to love you, I tend to spoil our love, hurt you as well as myself. That is the problem. The finiteness of opting to go for infinity.