what is love? baby, don’t hurt me..no more


this song goes to the heart of something I must tackle


…the concept of LOVE

We all already know about the prevalence of that famous Swedish city behind the syndrome, but I feel that there is more to discuss


Namely – a woman’s subjective feeling of being loved, or loving a man. there seems to be a bit of a shut-down, sometimes, the moment the L-word is trotted out.

I truly & deeply subscribe to the notion that a male simply will not offer anything beyond Transactional Affection. The clever ones will behave benevolently , if they so choose – as they see dividends in the total adoration & offering up of body+soul that flows back from a woman/girl in response ( but only if they remain on top in all material +organizational sense). I personally feel overwhelmed whenever a man does something, anything  of normal human value ( in decency +emotion). Super basic things – like kiss a puppy, or a chiropractor treating a patient in an attuned, gentle manner… but only when he does it to somebody else. It always feels realistic when done to me – on the ‘2 in  a lifetime’ occasions this has occurred (not sure if it even adds up to that!)

When you’re used to seeing your sadistic guards outside , while you’re pacing your cage – you ‘re stunned when 1’ll extend a flower thru the cage.  i wish it was only stunned , in fact. For all those normal-emotive XXers out there & not the restrained, cynical types (which I am ) – this develops into something much, much worse

Which is why I  must  lay out my own, personal definition of Love. it was inspired by watching a young woman +her sheepdog enjoy each other outside of my window. They ran thru those fancy exercises, where the doggie does Figure-8s thru the mistress’ legs, caught a frisbee// …but then the dog just leapt into the lady’s arms spontaneously & they spent a few moments loving up on each other.  My heart melted


Now…, i  know full -well that domestic canines ‘re imprisoned creatures, who traded their wolf-freedom for hopefully a longer life +steadier food with humans/ In fact, i’m starting to think that it’s possibly women  who domesticated them – as in they chose to follow us to camp -sensing that WE’d be fair to them in return for their loyalty+work. it all went TERRIBLY wrong once our the parasites of our species cut in on the deal/ of course, it did! what don’t they fucking ruin?!

But still – it registers to me as a form of acceptable love, under the circumstances. It flows back & forth on the same channel. Dogs’re programmed to look up to the pack leader & were before we became a team, but they also aren’t stupid – they can sense human emotions better than we can sometimes

& women’re programmed to bond with anything  – even inanimate objects.  Because we’re awesome that way + we know how to vibe along with life with life, without clobbering it into submission


So here it goes:


love is patient. love is  kind. & all that Bible business

but what is NOT

is subjective, or coercively obtained

How how in Dead Sea Hippie’s name!? do I wrangle this concept down into words?>?

Well, to me it is simply a form of strong mutual bonding, of equal value, built-up over time , via a series of binding experiences.  & it is not something that can be erased retrospectively. But here’s the Horcrux of it

it must rest on a feeling of safety


Seeing as absolutely ALL male transactional affection is inherently unsafe & women must be lulled into a false feeling of it >this leads me to the following resolution


For as long as I live, I will never , ever, refer to the bonding of males -to-females as LOVE

for this is (not only!) a travesty, (which leads to much betrayal trauma) ; but an inaccuracy which a pedant, like myself – shan’t accept

Just like a woman’s rose-coloured perception of rape doesn’t render it mute as being rape – her perception of love cannot be held subjectively valid in this regard. I cant’ stress the subjective part enough, in fact . for all the believer that I am [in grey areas]- this one MUST be Black +White like a chessboard


Now, back to the mundane

That song is evocative to me : In the year of yonder, *1996*, my mama undertook some aerobics classes to it – to get into shape – for the booty-sale pics – that’d get us here/  highly educational stuff  on the reality of the world  to a super-smart girl & her super-educated mummy