You are. My fire. My one. Desire. Believe. When I say.
So there was an article somewhere in Slate reviewing a book called “A Vindication of Love.” The book is basically a rejection of today’s focus on dull but safe relationships, which while they may not be emotionally satisfying, at least don’t put you at the risk of wrenching heartbreak.
Nehring yearns for a revival of a messier ardor. In her view, we have domesticated love past all recognition, turning what is rightly leonine, destructive, and majestic into a yawning, chubby house cat. Hers is no modest project. She wants nothing less than to radicalize our framework for love, mainly by restoring its chaotic potential: “Romance in our day is a poor and shrunken thing,” she writes. “Among the many rights we must reclaim in love is the right to fail.” A Vindication of Love is not a book that will persuade every reader to jump off the couch and into the arms of a dark, smoky-eyed stranger, but it will rearrange your tidily laid out mental furniture while you’re not looking. For at its core is a well-taken point: With its emphasis on equitable marriage, “choice feminism” has endorsed a tyrannical habit of trying to subordinate passion to reason. And along the way it has demonized obsession. What, Nehring asks, is so wrong with being crazy in love?
What indeed? I remember being at a dinner party with a bunch of girls, and Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love” was playing in the background. “You know”, one of the girls said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been dangerously in love.
I’ve had some dangerous ass sex, mind you.” To which the entire table erupted in laughter. But her point was well taken. Especially for our crowd, don’t we tend to subvert passion for reason? Isn’t “power couple-hood” the antithesis of romantic, wind at your back love? I know a couple women who’ve married because their now husbands seem like safe bets. White picket fences and stability and shit. I actually had an orgy with one of them right before she got engaged. My best friend fucked the shit out of her while her now-husband blew up her cell phone and her friend blew me. Good times. And what about me? Have I given up the dream of an artsy blue-haired girl with no formal education but mad talent and love so I could be with someone who would help advance my career? Not make waves at the company picnic?
I hope not. But I think it’s really easy to do. We look down on crazy love these days. If someone likes you too much, they’re “thirsty.” We’ll call someone a stalker in a heartbeat. Go to one of these “young professional” parties. What’s everyone doing? Working the wall. Not trying to look pressed. Or the lists that people have for how they meet someone. Refuse to meet someone in a club. They must be introduced by a mutual Point of Reference. etc. etc. Romeo would be considered a bug-a-boo today. Barack wouldn’t have asked out Michelle that second time because she’d have his as on blast on Twitter:
RT@MichyMich: Won’t that African-named bamma leave me alone? I mean, damn Hussein, go blow up an oil well or something.
Or let’s look at Mark Sanford. I mean, this dude rolled out to Argentina to be with his piece. Fuck the wife, fuck the kids, fuck the state assembly, I gots to be with my chica. Not to suggest that he wasn’t the slightest bit irresponsible, but when you read the emails, I mean, don’t you get a little tingle? When’s the last time you got this hot and bothered over email?
“This is ground I have never certainly never covered before – so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know,” Sanford wrote. “In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul.”
Ay Ay Ay, Mi Amor. Yes, I can play the John Mayer for you, my love.
The relationship apparently also caused Maria conflicts.
“As I told you I shouldn’t have done this trip but I would have felt worst if I wouldn’t have come,” she wrote. “He is a very nice guy, great heart … but unfortunately I am not in love with him … You are my love.”
If you read that shit with an accent, it’s even better.
From Gov. Sanford, Date: Thursday, July 10, 2008, 12:24 a.m.
“Two, mutual feelings . . . You have a particular grace and calm that I adore. You have a level of sophistication that so fitting with your beauty. I could digress and say that you have the ability to give magnificent gentle kisses, or that I love your tan lines or that I love the curve of your hips, the erotic beauty of you holding yourself (or two magnificent parts of yourself) in the faded glow of the night’s light – but hey, that would be going into sexual details …
“Three and finally, while all the things above are all too true – at the same time we are in a hopelessly – or as you put it impossible – or how about combine and simply say hopelessly impossible situation of love. How in the world this lightening strike snuck up on us I am still not quite sure. As I have said to you before I certainly had a special feeling about you from the first time we met, but these feelings were contained and I genuinely enjoyed our special friendship and the comparing of all too many personal notes …
“Lastly I also suspect I feel a little vulnerable because this is ground I have never certainly never covered before – so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know… In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul.”
"Coke in the Ride" was a UGK song? Shit, I thought it was just a lifestyle
From Maria, Wednesday, July 9, 2008 8:14 p.m.
“As I told you I shouldn’t have done this trip but I would have felt worst if I wouldn’t have come because it was too over the date, he is a very nice guy, great heart … but unfortunately I am not in love with him … You are my love … something hard to believe even for myself as it’s also a kind of impossible love, not only because of distance but situation. Sometimes you don’t choose things, they just happen… I can’t redirect my feelings and I am very happy with mine towards you.”
This was a chick flick, but the guns were cool so it's man-approved
Like doesn’t that take you back to when women wore bustiers and dudes had horses and settled their disputes with a pistol duel? I for one am all about it. What do y’all think?
The Bad Life 