#2: Love Actually, Doesn’t Exist – Marriage Humor
Romantic love, we’ve all seen it, plastered across the silver screen in the form of some God-awful Hugh Grant movie that our so called better halves have dragged us too. Or maybe you did the dragging. But it was all for one purpose – so for two hours you could imagine your relationship was this kind of magical, meant to be love-story. That you are also star-crossed lovers, not two people whose need to knock genitals together had temporarily overpowered your sense of standards.
Okay so maybe I am being a little cynical, but that is only because ‘marriage for love’ is a Victorian invention much like the electric telegraph, the penny-farthing or syphilis. Pre-nineteenth century most marriages were arranged and those few that did develop out of some night time dalliance often ended in one of the pair hurling themselves off a cliff after they realized they had been swindled by a particularly good poem.
So why do we still buy into this myth, this ideal that with puberty and our teenage dress sense, we should have outgrown? Because romantic love is the opiate of the masses, that is why. Love is a drug and our better halves are our dealers. That might sound like a fêted cliché, but the feeling of love is created by the production of Oxytocin in our brain during copulation.
We get addicted to this chemical injection. What is even more absurd with love is that chemically speaking love and hate are the same. Love and hate is created by the same chemical in exactly the same part of the brain. It is why we can experience ambivalence (ambivalence is feeling two contradictory emotions about the same thing at the same time and not what I thought, dyslexic ambulance).
Equally though, that is the beauty of romantic relationships, that we give each other this wonderful, chemically induced feeling. We supply our partners’ good sensations. We build each other up, make each other feel more than we are, which is brilliant seeing as there are those God-awful RomCom’s starring Hugh Grant that are ultimately responsible (when we are single) for making us feel less than worthwhile.