As children we are told by our mothers and grandmothers that love conquers all, and not only that, but it’s all we need. ‘Okay, makes sense,’ we agree, and continue growing. As we do, these precepts serve as a logical basis for our ever-more-subtle ethical education, and lead by extrapolation to all sorts of other important lessons like ‘Don’t judge other people,’ ‘Don’t hurt other people,’ and ‘Don’t hate other people.’
But along the way we learn that are many different types of love, and that no one really agrees on the classification system.
‘Excuse me – which one exactly is the ‘conquer-all’ variety?’
We are told that no two are the same, and only we can tell for ourselves.
‘Um, okay, I’m trusting you on this.’
‘Oh believe me, it’s true because that’s what I was told by my mother who was told by my grandmother who learned it from her mother before her.’
‘Oh, well then I’ll keep my eyes open for it.’
‘Oh don’t worry,’ we are told. ‘You’ll know it when you feel it. Can’t miss it.’
‘Oh, okay good then, thanks.’ Sounds like this whole love thing is pretty cut and dry.
We move on. We get older. Then at some point something funny happens. We feel it. And as soon as we do, something even funnier happens: A whole bunch of other people suddenly rush in to interpret our feelings for us. Despite everything we feel, these other people know what’s best for us, they have our best interests at heart, and they can tell us whether or not what we’re feeling is good or bad, or whether it’s really love at all. Suddenly we find ourselves, judged, hurt, even hated for our love. Turns out love isn’t really a personal experience; everybody seems to have the inside track on ours.
‘Wait a minute – that doesn’t make sense… Didn’t you people have mothers and grandmothers?’
‘Well of course, but what yours forgot to tell you is that love is relative. You see, all people change, some deceive themselves, most are utter fools, and many go through at least one completely irrational phase that may last for decades. You have to be careful.’
Who are these people? Do they love us? Sure doesn’t sound like it. And the more they talk, the more confusing it gets, until one begins to wonder whose female forebears were the most misinformative.
But one day – if we’re lucky – we get confused enough to finally figure out the Truth(tm): that no one really knows what the fuck they’re talking about anyway.
Nobody ever knows if love really conquers all.
But if it’s gonna stand a snowball’s chance in hell, it damn well better be able to whoop these grandmothers.