Love at Last Sight: Season 5

The Jock Itch Philosophy

Is love lust? An unrestrained or inhibited desire to kiss, hold or ultimately have a mutual orgasm with friends or strangers? Butterflies in my belly? An erection? A crush? A mind run riot? Cupid’s arrow is eros, and by true love’s definition it doesn’t sell. Love is not an orgasm.

                                   

The historical case study of an Israeli Prince who claimed he loved his step sister so much that he developed significant psychosomatic symptoms with weight loss shows us that lust is another four letter word which must be distinguished from love in its purest form. When his best friend helped him set up a meeting with the woman he claimed he loved, he got her alone in his room, looked her over and raped her. After the date rape, something significant happened- he hated her with a hatred that was more than the love with which he had loved her. His appetite satisfied, he kicked her out the door. That is the essential nature of lust.

Once satisfied or bored, it mutates into hatred. That is why people sleep with you tonight and don’t say good morning before they sneak out of your bed and out of your life tomorrow. That is why Angelita has sex with people who don’t even know her real name. That is why one night stands are not love. That is why a sadistic pervert sleeps with his victims and the next minute kills them. That is why you can be in her arms with your heart a million miles away. That is why love is not lust, passion, desire.

Check the English dictionary. Last night’s whore cost you NGN 20,000. Congratulations, you bought her body for a night, but you didn’t buy her love. True love does not have a price tag- not in the sense that love don’t cost a thing, but in the sense that it reaches beyond a wallet, a crisp note, a thong or an erotic dance. Read my lips. The spirit behind many an I love you is really an I wonder what you would look like beneath your night gown. Lips, tips and hips. I do not love you.

I am a tailor wanting to know your dimensions. I am a minister at the altar of debauchery wanting to lay hands on you. I am a warrior in chain mail and a condom conquering and riding to conquer, wanting to add your name to my list. Make no mistake- I do not love you. I can not love you.