Love Bitch

“Nobody will ever win the battle of the sexes.
There’s too much fraternizing with the enemy.”
-Henry Kissinger

Apparently “Lover’s Day” is on the horizon again – that Taiwanese version of Valentine’s Day in which men forget to buy expensive things for their women and rush out at the last minute hoping to find some flowers and a decent place to grab what passes for a fancy dinner.

As a subject for bitching, you gotta figure Love is a gimme. Lost love, unrequited love, passionate trysts that require subsequent injections of heavily armed antibiotics and, of course, “The love that dare not speak its name,” (except during the Gay Pride Parade). From the perspective of a semi-professional crank, Love and all its associated baggage has to be considered a target rich environment.

Some folks say that Love is merely an illusion propagated by a few rogue chomosomes in order to ensure the survival of the species. That’s a rather cold Darwinian perspective, but after a few years (if you’re lucky…months, perhaps weeks, if you’re not), you’ll find yourself looking across the breakfast table thinking, “Damn…it’s ALWAYS gonna be that face sitting over there…” Just at that moment, the baby will start screaming, appropriately puncuating the full realization of what you have wrought with those two simple words, “I do.”

Love has been the subject of some great poetry. (If you’re pressed for the perfect, ‘guaranteed to get you some’ gift, the poetry of Pablo Neruda is pretty much a sure thing.)

Last Valentine’s Day, I heard perhaps the greatest love poem ever written read by it’s author. Of course, Mr. Bitch ranks Honesty as the prime virtue (only associated with love in theory, never in practice), so you may not find it quite as romantic as I do. In any case, and with apologies to the (here nameless) creator of this heartfelt prose, I give you a Lover’s Day po’m:

“I brought you chocolates.
I gave you some flowers.
I bought you dinner.
Now gimme some head.”

Gives you goosebumps, doesn’t it?

Shakespeare also took numerous swings at the topic.
In honour of the occassion, I have reworked the opening stanza of his most famous sonnet in order to make it slightly more truthful:

“Let me not to marriage
of true minds admit impediments,
because the impediments
will kick the door in
when they’re damn good and ready.”

Speaking of impediments to love, the courts in the Good Ol’ US of A have been grappling with whether or not to allow (or ban) gay marriage. Personally, I’m all for it.
Love, whatever it is, is a scarce enoughy commodity in this fucked up world. If two people, of whatever gender, persuasion or proclivity, think the legal solemnization of their delusion will make them happy, I say go for it. And besides, think of all the billable hours it’ll create for those poor, underpaid lawyers. You thought divorce was a bitter process? Wait til a Gay marriage breaks up and there’s a disagreement over who gets the drop-leaf end tables:
“They were a gift from MY mother!”
“Yes, they were…but she gave them to ME!”

Even Mr. Bitch has fallen prey to the plague of love. The cheating skank is now married to an alcoholic vinyl siding salesman, so I got off lucky. Bitter, but lucky. What’s the best revenge for a man who steals your wife? Let him keep her.

Love. Christ, it’s enough to drive you up a wall. Everyone’s looking for it – even those who supposedly already have it (a fact for which I am grateful every time your girlfriend comes to visit). So, apparently it’s not only the case that what goes around, comes around…but what went around comes back around. Go figure.

Love: It’s the main plot device in most movies, the inspiration for our music and literature, the driving factor of large chunks of the economy, and the motive in most murders – they ain’t called “Crimes of passion” for nothin’.  And there is a lesson (not the least of which can be found in the criminal courts).  Just look at the songs, for God’s sake.  Celine Dion can warble her anorexic frame to pieces, she’ll never have the longevity of Billie Holiday.

“I am what I am because you love me,” simply does not possess the truth (and truth is beauty) of,  “First they hurt me, then desert me, I’m left alone, all alone.”

And what would you rather listen to, anyway?  The best music ain’t about love, it’s about the loss of love; the fickle nature of the thing; the dream that died.

Lara’s Theme?  Puh-lease.  I’ll see your Dr. Zhivago and raise you a Casablanca.

Love means obligations.  Oh, sure…you SAY you’re down with dinner with the in-laws, holding her hair back when she pukes up Happy Hour, two o’clock feedings and “Til death do us part.”  But those are only the obvious ones.  You also get, “Why do you love me?”, “Where is this relationship going?” and, “Do these pants make my ass look fat?”

Mark Twain defined love as the irresistable desire to be irresistably desired.

But irresistable desire is a tough thing to maintain when She insists on telling you about her day while you’re trying to pay attention to the football game.  In fact, forget about irresistable desire, or irresistable anything else.  It’s best not to have the word “irresistable” in your vocabulary, because you never know when it’s going to break up with “Desire” and start hanging around “Urge to kill.”

As with everything, it’s all a matter of perspective.  People always want to associate love with the Lord Byron Emily Dickenson crap that graces the pastel section of the greeting card aisle.  They ought to pay more attention to people who didn’t harbour suicidal tendencies.  You want accurate quotes about love, try these on:

“Love: a temporary insanity, curable by marriage.”
-Ambrose Bierce

“By the time you swear you’re his, Shivering and sighing, And he vows his passion is Infinite, undying – Lady, make a note of this: One of you is lying.”
-Dorothy Parker

It comes to this:  No one can tell you what love is – you’ll know it when you’re in it.
At some point after that, either you will realize it was all a horrible mistake or your significant other will.  There may be some counselling…perhaps even some litigation.
Then one of you bolts, the other becomes a severely depressed stalker.

If you love something set it free
If it comes back to you, it’s yours forever.
If it doesn’t, hunt it down and kill it.

Now all you star-cross’t idiots fuck off.  I’m busy.


9 Responses

  1. Hi Ken! It was lovely reading your words since your shining personality and even the tone of your voice and the smoke of your cigarettes as you lit them up one by one seemed all very very close to me as I read it. Well, I’m here to argue with you, since strangely enough, I don’t share your discontent with love . . .

    I don’t entirely disagree that whatever it is it always ends, though I don’t suppose I would call it an ending all together so much as an ending of the passionate crazy kind of thing you thought you felt and the onset of reality– life is a hell of a lot more complicated than I love you’s and I miss you’s know how to deal with. However, I do believe in connections between people and I do, in fact, believe in love. I believe in it’s possible endurance. I think the only requirement of any “love” relationship is that you are a whole and happy person when you enter into it, and that you have dealt the greatest bulk of your demons. If you have not, these will come out in droves and ruin everything as soon as your heart in involved. Love is all about trust, and trust is completely reliant on self-satisfaction and a great concept of self worth– if you don’t love yourself you’ll never trust another person to. And if you do love yourself, you’ll be able to leave the other one as soon as they begin to fuck up, saving yourself all kinds of heartache.

    Well, as you can probably guess, I’ve fallen again, though I don’t know if I would actually say fallen as of yet because it’s still very early, but he makes me oh so happy, and we laugh and laugh, and we talk and talk, and well, you know, it’s great. But sooooooo different from my last relationship, and I’m not making any of the same mistakes. I’ll keep my own life thank you very much, and I’ll retain my own personality, and I’ll do what the fuck I want, and if things aren’t making me happy anymore, I’m gone. I think this is the way to love– selfishly without being selfish. If that makes any sense.

    Well, I’m sure you’ve disagreed with everything that I wrote, but it was still nice to write it. I think I’m going to enjoy you have a blog.
    Met anyone recently?

    Amanda

  2. Requirements for love: Whole and happy people; have dealt with great bulk of demons.

    I’d offer odds, but it’s plainly a sucker bet.

  3. I Like Your Outlook
    On Love.

    It’s Very Cynical
    And Pessimistic.

    And What Of The People

    Who Believe
    That Sex Is Love?

    Are They Wrong
    Or Is There

    A Similarity
    Of The Fickle Nature Of Such Things?

    If This Is It-

    Is There Really A Reason
    To Seek

    Love

    When It Seems The Odds Are

    Against Such Emotion

    As To Throw Us

    Into Turmoil?

    Is That It?

  4. “Let me not to marriage
    of true minds admit impediments,
    because the impediments
    will kick the door in
    when their damn good and ready.”

    Did you mean “they’re” or “when they are fucking good and ready”?
    Cous are you drinking again?
    Count me present on the love train. Choo-choo!

  5. I’m always typing. And you missed another word wrongly spelt.
    But I fixed the their there also.

  6. i totally agree .. re love is bullshit.

  7. Romantic Love is complete bullshit. It is a chemical/hormonal reaction that exists completely within the brain of the infected. It makes us do, say, think all kinds of crazy bullshit that we’d never do otherwise. Forget weed, Love is the drug you should “just say no” to.

    That said, our world desperately needs more (small L) love..and weed for that matter.

    Romantic Love is nothing more than an evolutionary leftover. I think it will all but disappear in a few generations, if our current society lasts that long. Horniness is what gets us into bed. Romantic Love is what gets couples to put up with each other’s bullshit and stick around for the kid’s sake. Seven Year Itch? Hmm. Just long enough for the little sprog to get up and running in the wild. As a lame attempt at Reverse Engineering, couples often have another baby to “save” the relationship. They’re trying to recreate the Love that preceded the creation of their first child, who ruined it. What they’re actually doing is just digging their hole deeper.

    One need only to look and see how many people are cheating on the ones they “love” to realize Horniness trumps Romantic Love over time. Love fades because familiarity breeds contempt. Absence does makes the heart grow fonder. Monotony -er- monogamy, moving in together and, worst of all, getting marred -er- married & having children are the best ways to destroy Love.

    In fact, if given enough time, Love always turns to hate. The stronger your Love in the front-end, the stronger your hate on the back-end. Love blinds you, numbs you, and makes you do stupid shit you’d never dream of doing otherwise. Your Romantic Lover is the person most likely to murder you.

    Because Love is turns off your brain and makes you susceptible to suggestion, Romantic Love’s primary purpose today is to sell products. Promises that you’ll be loved (or at least sexually desired) are used to peddle everything; toothpaste, shoes, creams, batteries, pencils and overpriced shiny objects. Marketer’s deceptive lies to generate more profit might just be the single biggest force keeping the notion of Romantic Love alive.

    Part of the reason we seek it because we are told it is the be-all and end-all. Ads, movies music ; our entire culture force feed us sugary sweet dreck just like how we shove high fructose corn down the throats of geese to use their livers in foie-gras. (Excellent metaphor there.) Associating your product with Love can mean big bucks.

    But evolutionary usefulness of Romantic Love and love in general, is fading quickly. Romantic Love was there to form couples that would produce and successfully raise children. Small L love (friendship fondness, “I love you,man” etc) was there for social cohesion because, as a pack animal, we needed each other to survive. Love is disappearing because we are now a super-species. We no longer need actual contact with real-live people to survive. In our urbanized culture, we no longer have to worry about Cougar Attacks (the bad kind) We don’t have to worry about generating our food supply via hunting or gathering. Nor do we need somebody to make clothes for us. Today, we pay some unknown person on the other side of the world to do it for us. There are maids who clean while your at work. Chinese peasants to make cheap shit and whores for fucking.

    All you need is love? Nope. All you need is money. Money can get you anything you want. Money can’t buy you love, but it can sure as hell get you laid. And everything else you want. Want love? Buy a dog!

    Thanks to technology and the way our modern society operates, people don’t need to love, like, or even see each other. Thanks to mechanization and the Internet, the day will soon be here where you won’t have to even see another person for anything. You’ll just order stuff on line and it will just show up to your house, which you will never leave.

    Unfortunately, a society without love is a pretty lousy one. Because, if we don’t need each other, we can be as nasty as we want to be…and we can be pretty fucking nasty at the best of times.

  8. I know I’m delving deep into the archives, but I do so love lurking here.

    I think it was Lewis Grizzard (married/divorced x4) who said in a radio interview ” I’m not going to get married again, I’m just going to find a woman I hate and give her my house”.

    bruce

  9. “Alas!” said the other, “it was love; love, the comfort of the human species, the preserver of the universe, the soul of all sensible beings, love, tender love.”

    “Alas!” said Candide, “I know this love, that sovereign of hearts, that soul of our souls; it cost me one kiss and twenty kicks in the ass.”

    from Voltaire’s Candide

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