February 14, 2005
Happy Monday!
Following is a rant that grew [and grew and grew] from a response to a question in the Sunday Brunch meme. I decided to change my answer over at LJ to something shorter and less inflammatory, and post my real, unvarnished, candy-coating-free feelings here. Many of them are things I've expressed before, but they still piss me off, and I've managed to collect and encapsulate them more neatly here. It is also the debut of my neologism describing romantic love: "schtuppy love." I think that about says it all.
So.
5) What is your favorite Valentine décor? (hearts, cupids, etcetera)
I don't put up Valentine decorations. For one thing, it doesn't have anything to do with any holidays I actually care about [it's closest to Imbolc, but it really doesn't correspond to it in any way that I can see]. For another thing, it has become a representation of schtuppy love [i.e. love that is characterized by a sexual element, and which is understood to have fallen apart if the sexual element departs]. Even the little candy hearts express this: "Be mine." Be your what? Your tax consultant? We know what "mine" is, it's the same "mine" as in the schtuppy-love songs. People that would ordinarily label adherence to the Greco-Roman mythos as heresy and devil worship apparently have no problem with ubiquitous depictions of Cupid [whose Greek name is Eros--the root of the word "erotic"; who is the son of Venus/Aphrodite; and whose domain is, specifically, romantic and sexual love--he's basically a guy who shoots people with arrows to make them horny for each other].
Now, from this, I suppose it sounds as though I have an axe to grind with the whole idea of schtuppy love. That's close to the truth, but not quite. What I do have a problem with are the myths that people have about it:
~That you must have it to be happy, no matter how many other close friendships and family relationships you have.
~That being without it is always a horrible empty experience akin being in hell.
~That the only possible reason a person would forgo it is extreme heartbreak and bitterness [which you should get over], and not any other reason, such as taking a time-out to work on one's personality and eliminate relationship-damaging behaviours; an absence of the emotional need for that particular kind of relationship; a preference for less complicated relationships such as friendships, which are lower-maintenance; a low sex drive, which the person may or may not be able--or willing--to fix; or the intersection of several of these, as in my case.
~That this type of relationship is superior to all other types of relationship [apparently because it's the only kind where you get laid].
~That if you're not involved in it, or seeking it out, there is Something Wrong With You and you should see a doctor, therapist, priest, &c. to correct this.
I'm sure I could cough up a couple more, given the time, but this will suffice. The point is, wherever people get this tripe, be it from women's magazines, radio, novels, movies, or any other media, living as though the myths are true does not improve their lives at all unless they luck into a relationship that matches the myths. The media doesn't give a crap about depicting love in a realistic way. They want to make money, and depictions of idealised romantic love make more money than depictions of messy, realistic romantic love [except in some comedy films, where deviation from the ideal relationship forms part of the basis for the humour], or depictions of fulfilling platonic interpersonal relationships. Even the phrase "fulfilling platonic interpersonal relationships" will put most people, including me, to sleep, and I like a happy ending as much as anybody else. But don't think for a minute that what's on the screen, or what Usher's singing about, is normal. When you hold the ideal up as the norm, nearly everybody who strives for it winds up miserable. [Women, we've already encountered this in the body image department with supermodels and Barbie.]
The media does this with all holidays: there's a "perfect Christmas" with snow and a big tree and lots of presents and holy-sounding carols playing; there's a "perfect Easter" with giggling kids bounding gleefully through the yard looking for eggs; there's a "perfect Thanksgiving" with a big steaming turkey on a table surrounded by a dozen family members, all with bowed heads, giving thanks. You don't see a lot of brown Christmases, or people with no money for presents, or family squabbles, or people having baloney at Thanksgiving. That's sometimes depicted as how it is, but not ever as how it's supposed to be. It's never hinted that it might be all right not to blow your whole paycheck on crap so you look generous.
And they do it to Val's Day too, the "perfect" thing: Everybody's hooked up or has a date, everybody has sexy lingerie [and looks fantastic in it], everybody can afford roses and candy and jewelry, everybody who's receiving those things wants them, everybody's gonna get their freak on, and everybody's gonna live happily ever after in Smoochyland. [Reading that sentence over just gave me an almost uncontrollable urge to laugh hysterically.]
Is it nice to have a special day set aside where people who have romantic relationships can cultivate them? Yes, I think that's healthy. But I think it's gotten taken to a really pukey level, the same way other holidays have, and it certainly doesn't do anything to counter the preposterous and factually unsupportable idea that romantic love is more necessary than oxygen and other relationships are kinda just chopped liver. I'm sure a lot of people feel that way about their romantic attachments or marriages; I used to feel that way too, until I realised it was pretty much my hormones talking. People seem to put a lot of stock in what their hormones say to them, even though these are the same hormones produced by an endocrine system that has not evolved in a thousand centuries, when we lived in caves, ate raw mammoth, and needed to reproduce as much as possible because we entered puberty at 20 and were usually dead by 30 or 40. Our hormones and we are not, so to speak, playing according to the same edition of Hoyle; and the rules have changed dramatically since our gonads were issued their copy. Your hormones don't know what millenium it is, so I would advise humouring them when necessary and ignoring them most of the rest of the time when possible.
And I suppose that's my problem with Val's Day: it's become a testament to the type of love that's fueled more by hormones than by any emotional need for companionship; and watching people blindly obey their hormones because they think it's their heart talking and it never occurred to them that the two might not be the same thing...just sorta rankles me.
Boy, that turned long. Oh well, I'm about done.
same bitch time, same bitch channel...
Thought for the day: Two things, when juxtaposed in my mind, struck me as ironic: First, the reframing by some feminists of Valentine's Day as V-Day, a celebration of the vagina; and second, the tendency of men to give women large boxes of chocolate, which, being full of sugar, increases one's chances of getting a yeast infection [especially if, afterwards, you use your celebrated V to the point of irritating it]. Celebrate it today, Monistat it next week. Happy V-Day!
Posted by Frida Peeple at February 14, 2005 05:10 AM