— Originally published in Honcho magazine - October, 1996 —

THE LOVE BUG

by Lefty Boylan (aka Michael Kirwan)

One of my friends, who is in his mid-fifties continues to look for "that one special man." Which is great in and of itself, except that his entire existence has been consumed with this need to find a life partner. There was no career, no avocation, there wasn't even a plausible hobby. He hadn't an interest that wasn't either a ploy to secure a man, or borrowed from a current lover, to sustain compatibility.

I have a female cousin living in Florida who became a bitter, closet drunk, feeling that she'd been cheated out of romance by the expectations of the Women's Movement. When she wasn't blaming Women's Lib, the onus would shotgun-spray various other perceived miscreants: the family, a high school sweetheart, the government, gays, whoever. Somebody had to be responsible for her overwhelming loneliness.

Another friend shows up every weekend to do the club scene. He dances, he drinks, he flashes his dazzling smile and beautifully muscled body at all the "hot spots" hoping to attract a lover. He's very specific about what he expects from his "Mr. Right." He wants the gorgeousness, a particular income bracket, and fidelity. Occasionally, he finds someone who fits his criteria. They date for a while, and then, he loses interest, and begins the hunt anew. He's been repeating this scenario for more than five years and will probably continue for the next five.

From infancy, we are all bombarded with images and slogans. Clichés about true love are as much a part of our indoctrination as toilet-training and admonishments about touching a hot stove. Examples of "love conquers all" are strewn throughout our collective consciousness. Movies are rife with characters tossing fortunes, principles, and expectations to the wind so that they can be reunited with their beloved. How many cinematic redemptions have hinged on the proverbial "love of a good woman" (or "man" in our case)? We are all conditioned to anticipate the day when our lives are given meaning by the arrival of the often-heralded significant other. Song lyrics are gospel.

I have nothing against romance (I've taken that trip many, many times, and will probably sign up for another tour of duty soon enough); I'm just questioning the towering importance society places on it. Advertising campaigns are geared to make us all more lovable. If we wear the right deodorant, wear the right clothes on the rightly proportioned bodies, have no dandruff and minty fresh breath, then we'll all be in a better position to find love. If we drive the sexy cars a-waft in the sexy scents, who could resist us? Why should they? After all, we've all been assured that our destiny includes a big, giant-sized, important love. It hardly seems to matter to anyone that the fairy tale "happily ever after" is so vague. If your lover becomes tedious; if the daily routine of life proves too mundane; if the magical glow becomes too subdued; just go out scouting for the next true love, because, God dammit, you are entitled to a big, blistering, all-consuming romance! Society says so, and we all bleat in agreement, like a herd of lobotomized sheep. A person who doesn't crave love is pitied. Everyone knows that whatever accomplishments, innovations, or enthusiasms lone people participate in, what they really want is love. It has to be, right?

I'm not suggesting that we should abandon all romantic expectations. But why should it be such a pivotal factor in our general well-being? If you've got a home, a family, friends, a career, why not enjoy them while welcoming love? Why buy into the cultural stigma of solitude as failure? Love should be just another part of life's landscape, not the canvas, frame, wall and nail. But that's just my opinion.