The Problem with Love

The problem with love is that nobody, and I mean nobody, knows what it is. And if you make the mistake of thinking you know, it runs away like a tie-dyed tee shirt. So today, in the context of the Great Triad, I will attempt to examine love, and maybe even try to define it.

It seems to me that all love starts in the genitals. I know, many of you are already thinking that I am being facetious or glib. Let me assure you that I am not. Sex is the seed of love. The Mamou in all of us is always striving to achieve a state of perfect chaos. What, may I ask, is more chaotic than multiorgasmic, empty-your-brain-of-any-coherent-thought, sex?. The answer, and I'm sure you will agree, is nothing. The Whole Shebang, the domain of 'love', injected the concept into our collective psyche, to get our brains working again. Unfortunately, he/she left the concept a little too vague, thus enabling us to become even more stupid. There are many of you who will maintain that Jesus is love, but let me assure you, you may as well be searching for it through Casper the Friendly Ghost.

Women as a rule are far more guilty of confusing the concepts of love and sex. The prevalent thing goes something like this: "Well, he wanted to, and I let him get into my panties, so we are going to have to fall in love. We can get married and he can keep my closet full of shoes that I hardly ever wear." Men, however, are equally stupid. "It's worth 5000 pairs of shoes if she keeps it up". Unfortunately, an old pussy isn't like an old dog. The old dog keeps on loving you no matter how much you beat it.

Lest I obsess about sex alone, let's examine the other commonly held concepts of love: trust, honesty and affection. Unfortunately, trust is an unattainable goal for most of us. To truly trust someone requires a fairly strong sense of self worth. Oh, I know, all the gods say we are born pure and righteous, but for most of us, surviving an upbringing riddled with maternal guilt lashing sprinkled with good ol' garden of eden temptation leaves us with a sense of self-uselessness akin to a broken condom. It's hard to lay your heart in the hands of a partner when you know you don't deserve it. As for honesty, we all possess it. The only times dishonesty comes into play is when we are afraid. We only lie when we know our partner will beat the living crap out of us if we tell the truth. And don't lie to me and tell me that's not true. And affection, that's something we freely give; to our spouses, our partners, our friends and the people we cheat on them with.

So, where does that leave us on the subject of love. Nowhere. Our failure at love results from striving for something we don't inately understand. To attain something, you have to know what it is, and, quite frankly, it's different for each of us. The best you can really hope for is a whole lot of like, copiously laced with pheromones, sprinkled with magic and awe. It is the chaos of the seeking that gets us there. Embrace the chaos, lovingly nurture it, and don't leave out the magic.

Bibbity, Bobbity, Boo.