Part II: Are Men Capable of Love?
Welcome to Anatomy of the Male Mind! Our guest today is Australian writer John Warwick Arden. John’s going to spend some time with us exploring the topic of love. Are men capable of it? John begins his own personal journey into this topic here.
Let’s see what insights he’s achieved today. Hi, John!
So…am I even capable of love?
Possibly not.
But all this venting of spleen does little but beg the question- why is my capacity or otherwise to love, and in turn be loved- such a desperate, plaintive plea?
Why would my inability to love be such an ominous proposition??
After all- to be fair, I have on the surface for the most part joined my immediate brethren in the ‘poo-pooing’ of affairs of the heart.
Vonnegut in essence said quite plainly in his novel Mother Night, be careful what you pretend to be, for one day, that is precisely how you will be judged.
Was I really so naïve as to believe that–after a lifetime of shunning love–I would be anything but all alone on the cusp of my frail dotage?
Well, in my case, despite the lifelong bestial wail of my so called machismo–the perpetuation of the mythos as set down by my brethren before me–I still, in my quieter moments, knew my heart; my desire to love, and to be loved, would nuzzle me with the gentle persistence of an abused pet.
Regardless of how we swagger about the place, pissing on love and howling down chick flicks in favor of our natural predilections for killing, maiming, and lying, deep down, many of us want to love.
Deep down, we fear being alone, lonely, facing that abyss with no one beside us.
We are so tough when everything is dandy, but oh, when the world collapsed around us…
We know it is important–especially when we get blind drunk and start blubbering over our loved ones shoulder.
Heaven forfend WE expose our filthy secret when we are sober, for fear of showing our heart.
I still remember my alcoholic father, on the phone from the hotel room of his most recent romantic interlude, begging mother and children to take him back. Positively weeping into the phone.
Only to be taken back, and the cycle of violence and hate would continue.
But I am not blaming. It does not work. And I am not making excuses. I HAVE no excuse. I have the ‘what not to do’ example.
So is it a question of not being ABLE to love, or not WANTING to?
What inference can I draw from my own experience, held up against the experience of other men–including my father?
I think, after a lifetime of not wanting to expose myself to love–for a variety of reasons–I have simply buried the ability to love.
Much like my father.
I have to believe this is the case; not only because if I did not, there would be nothing more to blog about, but also there is something burning, deep in my soul, that wants–positively yearns for the existence of love.
It is like our desire to believe in God. For if we do not believe in love, and God (whom some believe to be one and the same), then why on earth would we bother doing anything?
What meaning has life?
I must choose life.
Like my father–who was drawn to destruction of himself and others–I too was drawn to destructive tendencies. Many men are. If we can’t fuck it, we kill it. Or do both, when differentiation is essentially academic.
But at some point, we have to choose. Pick a side; life or death.
I am drawn to the dark side, but find the light so much more persuasive.
And I have to believe love is light.
Which means, I HAVE to believe in love, and believe that I am capable of it; that I am capable of better choices than my father.
In order that I not turn out a gibbering wreck like him, what do I need to do differently? Can I do anything differently? In order to bring myself closer to love??
All this presupposes I even know what love is.
I knew what obsession was, something my father was conversant with, and in turn, I picked up from him. I knew what arousal was, I became familiar with ego gratification, and came to know the violence that erupts when these are challenged, or called into question.
Over time I was able to elude ever really falling in love by lying and cheating in my perpetual search for the mythical beast–‘that special one’–when I was no more drawn by the siren call of love than I was drawn by the chase, over and above the actual catch. It is this dichotomy which is, in hindsight, is the most perplexing of all; it becomes obvious that justifying this hunt on the grounds of primal urge seems all the more absurd when we look at say, the hunt for food.
It is hard to say the chase is better than the catch when the caveman was pursuing food. Perhaps the case was as good as the catch, but when we men regard the hunt for women as being better than the catch, then this–aside from the almost misogynistic overtones–becomes nothing more than plain self indulgence.
The bottom line being, that none of this nonsense has anything whatsoever to do with love.
Most probably because, while we suppose we are pursuing love when in actuality–and in our obsession with avoiding anything to do with truth–we are doing everything BUT that, we become, sooner or later, led to the realization that we know nothing about love.
Or do we??
***
Thanks, John!
RU Readers, what do you think? Do you think men regard the hunt for women better than the catch? John will stop by to answer any questions you might have.
Join us on Friday to hear what author Eden Bradley has to say about the state of erotic romance in today’s market.
John’s Bio:
John’s been a farmer, librarian, and a police officer for ten years with a Chief Commissioner’s commendation for community service. He’s currently a writer with one film credit, and one in production. John’s working on a series of three books on the masculine perspective of love, truth, relationships, etc. He loves literature, film, art, music, animals and has not given up hope that people will one day work it all out…
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Hi John,
Thanks for another enlightening post!
Tracey
Thanks, John, for sharing your personal and thought-provoking experiences regarding the capability to love. You mentioned your father at length. As a writer I wondered about your relationship with your mother and what bearing she had in your view of love.
Sheila
During my formative years, my mother was a rock. She enabled my Father’s brutality unconditionally, until such time as she felt strong enough to brutalize me herself. And today, she will not even grant me the gift of the acknowledgment of her actions- the one thing that might set me free. She denies everything, so naturally I wonder if it wasn’t some long, dreadful nightmare. So I battle on, regardless, telling myself that is exactly what it was. It cannot possibly have been real. I must have imagined it. Thank you for asking, Shelia…
Hi, John. Thank you for being here and sharing your story with us.
Thank you for allowing me to, Adrienne. Not quite so painful now.
Hi John! Thank you for sharing. (I enjoyed your last post as well.)
Two things:
1) I don’t know how recent your picture is, but you hardly look on the cusp of your frail dotage. Looks to me like you’ve got quite a few good years left.
2) Not being alone and not being in love are two totally different things. Maybe instead of love you would be content with companionship, be it male or female, to ease the lonliness.
Just my thoughts….for what their worth. Good luck!
Thank you for yr thoughts, Wendy.
Re point one: I feel old. The battle waged within has taken it’s toll. I might have a few years yet, but that will depend either upon me, or my maker. (depending on your position religious beliefs)
Point two: I need love. Without it, I’d rather be dead.
I have said before; a life without love to me might as well be slow death.
But thank you anyway.
I guess I just have to ‘be a man’, be brave, keep the faith, and keep fighting for love…
thanks for posting john, and sharing your personal story with us!
carrie
Thank you John, This post struck a nerve for me because as I type my husband is on the phone with a woman friend that he found on line. He swears that he loves me. But he insists on giving our number to these women so they can call. He says he isn’t cheating, and I’ve never had reason to distrust him before so I can only believe it is the truth. But given our current issues, and my own family history, I wondered if it were even possible for a man to love. I truly wasn’t sure. It’s difficult to write love stories when part of you shudders at sending your heroine into a situation where she won’t really be loved. I doubted love. It’s good to know it exists.
Hello,
Thanks for posting.
Life is strangely fascinating.
Drea aka Laurel
http://web.me.com/alchemymercury/SymbolicBridging/voice.html
Thank you, Carrie.
And Sara- funnily enough, I have been guilty of all that. Being in a relationship, and flirting- yes, FLIRTING- with women in a sexual manner online, and then telling my significant other I am merely being ‘sociable’. Reaching out, hands over the water, to my fellow man. And…WOman. Getting to know women better; being caring, sharing. Being a top fellow; one of the ‘few decent men left’ in an otherwise rotten, corrupt bunch.
I’m not like them, darlings.
‘Sistahs’…
Let’s stick together, against those swine; those brutes.
Here; take my hand..
I’m the Christ, resurrected.
You can’t trust those other lying, cheating bastards, but you can trust me.
I’m above all that.
Aint that sweet. How humanitarian of me.
Bullshit.
Pure, unadulterated bullshit.
I should have known better; ought to hang my head in shame, & stand in the corner forever for my crimes against the fair sex, rather than being allowed out to mix with the real humans. Not to mention being allowed to post the ephemera relating to my crimes on a site run by, and patronised by such decent people.
I have no right to be here for some of the selfish crap I have perpetrated on women. And yet, women seem hell bent on giving men like me another chance.
And another.
Whether I deserve it or not.
On the off chance THIS TIME, I might reward the favor by changing my ways. Truly changing my ways.
Not SAYING I will ‘change my ways’, but actually DOING IT.
Time will tell. And hope springs eternal.
Then again, all I can really know for certain is that I have made the commitment to be a better man, one day at a time.
To give up my salacious ways, ONE DAY AT A TIME.
This is my manifesto.
It could be bullshit, from where you are standing- God knows, I’m sure you have heard your share of male bullshit- but you will just have to take my word for it.
Let this be my epitaph, lest I do not make it through the night.
I WILL be a better man.
And that bullshit I carried on with that passed for being a ‘man’?
Never again, God willing.
I’m not saying that is what yr man is doing, Sara- just what I did. I could go into the bizarre, labyrinthine maze of my behaviour- and my rationalisation of same- engaging in this comparatively ‘new’ way of behaving (but what really amounted to the same old tricks dressed up in a new suit) and delve into my own reasoning, and justification and line of bullshit I used to spend hours doing it and then smooth it over with my trusting loved ones, but this is neither the time nor the place. I like to tell myself it might serve some academic interest to tell exactly what was going on in this man’s mind while I was pulling this crap, but it is more likely only to have, at best, specious, prurient interest; more again of the same trashy sleaze served up in gossip mags.
‘Sex addict’ my ass.
My heart goes out to you Sara. I have shrugged this insidious demon beast off my shoulders- I hope the man you love (and who says he loves you) does the same- for both your sakes.
Hang in there. You have a good heart. You are worth being treated decently, and loved properly.
Most definitely.
Take care…
JWA
Hi Sara.
Sorry, I had a reply for you, but it is not taking.
I am experiencing some fatigue at having taken the time to write it, and now the technology will not accept it.
It is fairly substantial, so if you have an email address, I would be happy to mail it.
Otherwise- my heart goes out to you, and I wish you well…
JWA
Sorry, John. Your message got caught in our Spam filter. It’s showing up now.
Thanks Tracey.
Thank you all. Today has been a very good day. Also very tiring. If after all this support, I still can’t get my act together…
Can’t say no one tried to help me.
Best wishes,
JWA
As always, we enjoyed having you. Thanks again for sharing your journey.
Tracey