Looking for that Quiver

The trouble with love is that it encompasses so many different emotions—everything from passion to companionship. When we break up with someone, it’s relatively easy to replace the passion, but companionship is unique, and its absence causes a pain that never goes away. It’s like death or divorce.

Regarding the desire for passion, I love the phrase: “Looking for that quiver.” Although, to my mind, it is friendship that ties the bonds of monogamy—and thus I place a great value on it: in general, and especially in romance. After all, when the dishes have been broken and your wok now has an indentation in the shape of your head, who is going to help pick up the pieces—a lover or a friend?

Sex is a wonderful thing—a splendidly animalistic remedy to our world of culture and logic—and yet I fear the chaos that comes with it, and the emptiness that can arise when one overindulges in it. I wish I had an answer to the question of reconciling the passion of new affairs with the satisfaction of a deep romance—but I do not. The two lives simply do not coexist harmoniously. In my view, Homo sapiens is not a monogamous animal. There are species of birds that choose one mate in life. How many people do you know (apart from Alfred Hitchcock) who have had one sexual partner?

I often hear people recount stories of cheating and betrayal with the all-encompassing moral at the end: infidelity is proof of apathy. Basically: “If she could go to bed with him, [in this case it was her teacher] she obviously doesn’t love me anymore.” And then, after a few moments of contemplation: “And come to think of it, I don’t love her either.” This conclusion, albeit unsurprising, strikes me as curious. Is infidelity born of the absence of love or the presence of lust? Granted, in either case the situation is wrought with problems; but are those problems our fault? Who is to blame? I’ve read that when a man betrays a woman, she inevitably despises him and blames herself. In theory, men imagine they will cast away the dirty harlot who strays from his bed. In reality, they react no differently than women.

Romance is the invisible fire that draws us near. It is the curve of a woman’s lips, the silky waves of her hair or the supple swell and recess of her bosom. Looking down on that selfsame body sprawled out on the sullied sheets of your bed, contorted and spent as if it had been pummeled, and not running away in fright: this is love. Watching that body fatten, sag, wrinkle and finally collapse: this is true love. To my mind, love is abhorrent. Why else do we laud those who attempt to live with it? Those who chase after romance never amount to more than hedonists. We envy your frivolity, but our envy, like your romances, quickly fades. Stand forward you souls who live for love, and we shall behold heroes. We are fascinated by you as we are fascinated by all martyrs.

Teddy Bears

People often confuse lovers with teddy bears. We have a powerful longing to have a body next to us when we sleep — especially when we desire cuddling. The problem is that although we love to have a “teddy bear” next to us, we do not enjoy being someone else’s plaything. In a new relationship, all too many overlook the individuality of the person they are courting: i.e., they’re looking for a teddy bear. They are suffering from physical need and are too hasty to bother with friendship; and, at least in this recipe for romance, friendship is the basis of the soup. A mouthful of spice will inevitably burn.

Lust and Love

Love is cultural, as it is expressed relatively according to culture. Whereas the Tahitian shares love with a large family circle, the Californian, detached from clan, desperately showers it on a single mate. Insofar as love is of culture, it is in conflict with nature, and it should come as no surprise that it forever keeps us in turmoil regarding our feelings. It is not, will not, and has never been a harmonious emotion in humans. For it stands in eternal struggle with our instinct, and the more idealized love becomes, the more unbearable it is for the lovers. Romance should be relished like a fine praline. That’s to say on the right occasion. Otherwise, it crosses our palate sickly sweet, betraying a bitter aftertaste, and in the end leaves us with indigestion. At least until we reach the next bonbon.

Lust is natural. This is why it feels good, whereas more often than not love leaves one thoroughly in a stew. In light of man’s proclivity to promiscuity and woman’s tendency for opportunism, cupid’s arrows would better rest in their quiver. Love may be a many-splendored thing, but when all is said and done, it’s friendship that ties the bow of monogamy. Cherish love; nurture friendship. This is the rule. It has been said that pleasure is nature’s seal of approval. If it feels good, do it. If you feel good after the fact, then do it again. There are only two ways to overcome desire: through abstinence or abundance. There are primates that choose one mate in life. How many Homo sapiens copulate with only one partner? Culture preaches monogamy while nature repeats it¾over and over again.

Cardiac Arrest

Contrary to your complaints of loneliness and instability, I believe your heart guides you forward. That’s the problem: no one wants to admit that being alone can be fun. You come home to an empty house, after having lost the best relationship of your life; you pour yourself a drink, put on some music, and cry until your whole body aches. You glance over at the coffee table upon which is a framed photograph of yourself and the man you’ve just left. You’re too tired to cry again, but muster the last remnants of energy to recall you haven’t felt this bad since you broke up with your first boyfriend. You realize that the empty void before you is your life; and, suddenly, your heart fills with passion. If you like it or not, it’s fun: it may be the most fun you’ll ever have.

Good News about Passionate People

Ah, love: my favorite subject. It should come as no surprise that I have no answers. Your problems – namely his uncertainty – are not unique. I can relate to your feeling of “this is not entirely right” and “something in my heart is driving me to do it anyway.” The cynical view is that when it feels “right” we run away frightened, when it feels “wrong” we chase after it like curious cats. But I’m really not a cynic and cheer you on to follow your heart.

For better or for worse, I live with a strong consciousness of death, and, as a side effect of having studied archaeology, a painful awareness of how quickly 80 to 90 years fly by. For me, loving and passion are important factors in enjoying those years, and, more importantly, achieving a happy mental disposition that may add a few years to my life. I appreciate that there are different kinds of people in the world, and (and here’s the bad news) good people are not necessarily passionate, just as (here’s the good news) passionate people are not necessarily bad.

We Seek Two Relationships in Life

I have a theory: we seek two relationships in life: The first is the partner with whom we want to have children; the second is the partner with whom we want to get old. Often these two very different relationships are shared with the same person...but not always.

Many of us fall in love in our twenties, enjoy fiery courtships, get married, and have children (or dream of having children) with people who we think are beautiful, handsome, creative, intelligent, successful, etc.. During infatuation, which may last from a month to two years or so, our bodies keep us more or less locked together. But after this phase fades away it is friendship which takes over as the bond that keeps us together.

As we mature, we become aware of death. Some of us experience this in the twenties others in the thirties, and still others not at all. On the day we realize we’re aging, getting less attractive, losing our vitality, we are struck with a new question: With whom do I want to share my park bench when I'm old?

Regarding infatuation, this may sound strange, but I wouldn't want to live my entire life at intensity 110% and am quite content when a relationship calms down. Of course, this doesn't mean I do not like (and need) lots of affection and love.

Perhaps, if you’ve been together for over ten years, a new situation arises: the problem of "this is it." Just as monogamy has great and profound rewards, meeting new people also has a lot to offer. When we're together for so many years, it's possible we start to dream about another life: a more adventurous life in different countries doing different jobs with different partners.

I can understand yearning for more than the daily grind. I can also imagine dreaming about a life with someone else -- the catch is that we do not dream about losing our partner! It's so easy to throw ourselves into the arms of a new lover; so difficult to imagine the pain we inflict on our partner and the pain we feel when we lose our partner.

I believe that once we’ve switched to a new partner, it's only a matter of time before we suffer from the same problems of monogamy (albeit with slight differences). This is why one should think twice before breaking off a long-term relationship. There is so much to lose—namely, shared memories and experience, which, when we get old is all we're left with.

Dreams of Children and Homes

I'm sorry to hear you're feeling lonely, but I can read into your message that this loneliness is not due to a lack of friends or activities, but a desire to find a partner and create a family. I'm happy to hear your capacity to love is still strong, and, more importantly, you are not suppressing these feelings. Trust me, time flies at a frighteningly quick speed and it's important that we know what we want from life, because anything is possible. I'm usually against breaking up, but, alas, there have been relationships where, in the end, my life benefited by getting out.

Work is almost as important as love. It's not easy being in the middle class and I fear society has developed in a direction indifferent (if not antagonistic) to family living. Families can no longer survive on a single income, which means we need to be cleverer than ever, if we want to have children and bring them up in a healthy, happy environment.