Should I start with a sex scene or a joke? And is there a difference?

The Greek god Eros (and his roman corollary, Cupid) is depicted as a young winged infant carrying a bow and arrow. One arrow was made of gold and dove feathers. Upon contact, this arrow would make its target fall madly in love. The boy also carried a second arrow, made of lead and owl feathers. Depending on the version of the story you hear, this arrow either made its ‘victim’ indifferent or hateful.

Every once in awhile (and especially in February), we are reminded of the presence of Cupid in our common mythology. But never once did I give pause to consider the implications. Our ancestors felt it appropriate to place the fate of our most prized emotion in the hands of a pudgy, snot-faced rug rat. Think about it. Without experience to temper his judgment, Cupid would take aim at passersby in a willy-nilly fashion. He didn’t so much care about what would “work.” He was just having fun, playing a game. Meanwhile, we were the hapless actors on the stage of life providing entertainment to the gods above in their cushy balcony seats in the clouds. Tragedy was almost sure to ensue.

Suppose this is an accurate description of our human condition. What then? We might expect to see that relationships fail far more than they succeed. This is the case. We already know that in the United States marriages are slightly more likely to end in divorce than death. But consider all of the loves that people have before they actually get married. All but the last of them fail as well. It sure does seem that there may be a baby at the wheel after all. So, what to do?

A friend recommended that I read C.S. Lewis’ “The Four Loves,” in which he discusses the nature of Eros among the 3 other human loves (affection, friendship, and charity). He proposes a solution for coping with this fact of our existence. He first distinguishes Eros from Venus, the latter being the sexual urge which is often present at the same time as Eros, though each is capable of existing without the other.

Of Venus, he writes, “She herself is a mocking, mischievous spirit, far more elf than deity, and makes a game of us. When all external circumstances are fittest for her service she will leave one or both the lovers totally indisposed for it. When every overt act is impossible and even glances cannot be exchanged…. She will assail with all her force. What pother this must raise – what resentments, self-pities, suspicions, wounded vanities and all the current chatter about ‘frustration’ – in those that defied her!” While everyone can relate to the above at an anecdotal level, this point is most evident at the macro-level as male potency peaks at around18 years of age and steadily declines thereafter. Female potency, meanwhile, comically grows in inverse proportion to a peak at around 40.

Still, it appears that such is for our own “good.” Imagine the over population problem that would result if the potency and virility of both men and woman each came to a head at the same age of, say, 22. It would be a lost year indeed.

Lewis suggests that in the face of this problem we invite laughter into the bedroom; “Banish love and laughter from the bed of love and you may let in a false goddess” (Aphrodite being a laughter-lover). He advises, “Sensible lovers laugh. It’s all part of the game; a game of catch-as-catch-can, and the escapes and tumbles and head-on collisions are to be treated as romp.” He concludes by saying that your sex lives are a joke and that “it’s a bad thing not to be able to take a joke.” Ha!

Remarkably, Lewis suggests that the act of sex itself is a play or buffoonery. Indeed, the word ‘naked’ is the past participle of ‘naking’ which means to stripping or peeling. For ancients, this did not mean taking off your clothes, but rather suggested taking off your ‘self.’ “Nudity emphasizes common humanity and soft-pedals what is individual. In that way, we are “more ourselves” when clothed. By nudity the lovers cease to be solely John and Mary; the universal He and She are emphasized. You could almost say the put on nakedness as a ceremonial robe – or as a costume for a charade.” What parts do we play? Well the man is the sky-father and the woman is the earth-mother, of course.

(Time out. Do you think Lewis got anywhere in 1950’s bars, claming to be an aspiring Hollywood director and encouraging young ladies to come back to his place to try out for the part of the Earth-Mother?)

The point he’s trying to make (I think) is that sex has little to do with the individual participants but more with the ancient forces of masculinity, femininity, creativity, and sexuality that find form in these individual actors. The actors just keep the myth going. This stinks of Hegel and I don’t like it, but I’m floored by the paradigm shift nonetheless. How different would your sex live be if you didn’t think it was about you and yours but about primeval forces and fat babies?

Now turning our attention back to Eros. He suggests that “Eros, or himself, will never be enough” to sustain a relationship but that it must be “chastened and corroborated by higher principles.” Basically, we promise ourselves to each other out of love, but that’s not the reason we stay together. This too makes me question the whole system. If love (and by ‘love’ here I mean that spark, that first drunken 2 or 3 months of a relationship) is not central to the success of a relationship, why does our society glorify it so? First, you have the suggestion that the spark is random as if fallen from the sky or a bow. Second, you have the suggestion that the spark will not carry you very far. Third, you have the proposition that one needs to rely on humor and higher principles to make a relationship work. So why not dispense of the spark altogether? That’s it, I’m proposing to the next funny, high principled girl I find. Who cares if I’m attracted to her. If in the end, it’s about high principles, why not make it so from the start?

And I think it’s this realization that led ancients to invent arranged marriages and such. If young people are left to their own devices, they may haphazardly fall in love with random people for no good reason and their relationship will fall apart when they realize that all they had was Eros, which over time has decided to opt for the lead arrow, which I’m led to believe may happen to us all in time. Why not make humor and higher principles the foundation from the get-go? And can’t that be agreed to, by contract, between any two willing parties? You wouldn’t need to wait for “the one.” Anyone will do, so long as they agree to sign the dotted line and their principles are in line with yours (and they laugh at you in bed! Ha!) Have I deconstructed the dating scene? Maybe Eros is a bad matchmaker. Maybe the baby shouldn’t be driving the bus. Should this duty be outsourced? Every relationship that I’ve set up for others has lasted longer than any relationship I’ve set up for myself. Maybe there’s something to that. Am I missing something?