It’s the love month.  What better time to chat about love? There is so much to say on that subject and so much of it is lovely, enduring and brings joy to our hearts. We know poets write about love, mothers love their children, we say we love life, we love a piece of clothing or we love a pet and it goes on and on. Valentine’s Day is usually sweet love as children exchange Valentines. However the bulk of cash spent on Valentine’s Day is about romantic love as billions of dollars are spent on chocolates, flowers, cards and romantic dinners.

Love in the modern world is split between the realities in the world of homo sapiens, that’s us and the world of homo fictus…imagined love. The type of love that’s found in the world of fiction is so ideal; it can make your teeth rot, because it’s so syrupy and dipped in sugar. Fictional love is a perfect size four, has flowing fair locks, firm yet heaving bosoms, a voluptuous tush and a mercurial personality. So much to put into one little package, but on a computer all things are possible. Her name is something flowing like Dazzle, Radiance or Chastity. Her heaving bosoms are so large, in real life she would surely fall forward. Her male counterpart is tall, but gentle, muscular to the extreme and appears rough on the exterior but has a mushy interior.

The story is usually the same format. Their lipid eyes meet. Their juices immediately start to flow as they experience love at first sight.  Then something occurs and they begin to hate each other due to some seemingly immovable object. She looks ragged and abused as her distress would indicate but secretly she is secretly rich, or royal and always classy; and has the soul of Mother Theresa. Our heroine is, of course, always a virgin or has had sex only once when it was forced upon her by some cad while she was loaded with Laudanum.  Of course she dresses in a way which displays all of her equipment, this virginally pure lass with the high ideals and the flawless skin.

The fictional “he” is usually crude, charmingly rude and hairy. His chest hair swirls around and is almost as long as the hair on his head. His name is usually something like Gore, Dirk or Bronze. He has usually fought his way through some danger, leaving his fortune and huge estate behind, where it can of course, be retrieved by the end of the tale. He always has an acute sense of humor as well as the skills of a Special Ops marine.

The two of them must deal with some vicious scoundrel who is out to get her into his bed, secretly knows about her fortune or is just plain rotten to the core. The hero and heroine must overcome impossible odds and realize in the midst of the smoke and gunfire or swordplay they truly are destined for each other. Tantalizing, provocative and endlessly frustrating love is found, love is lost and finally reclaimed and shines triumphant.

Most of the tales deal with unresolved passion…at least until the last fifty pages or so. The story is all foreplay, foreplay and more foreplay. Even on television series we lose interest if they “get it on” and we lose the suspense. When our homo fictus characters do finally culminate their union it is always lusty, incomparable and bells always ring for them, nobody burps or farts and they always fall off the mountain together. Their body odor is sweet, musky and wet with desire. “It” is repeated over and over with the same abandon that would surely land a normal human being in the local cardiac unit or end in someone’s arrest.

We are in a lot of trouble in real life when we are slammed by crisis, health problems or trouble. If our idea of romance is that I’ve spoken of, we come crashing to the ground. For most of us that would hurt. People like you and I, have globs of fat, sagging thighs or something sagging, thinning hair and have far less sex than the homo fictus if any, at all. Real men belch, have to shave their necks, forget to wash their ears and use a toothpick. Real women work hard for “natural beauty,” have stretch marks and have trouble breathing in most of the positions in the Kama Sutra.

Real love takes place in your home and mine or down the block. It occurs over burnt toast, worry about the electric bill and feeding the kids. The house is cluttered because there is no maid and the butler? Well, give me a break. The dog just puked on the rug, the kids are eating the goldfish and the TV is on the blink. It is small wonder 50% or more American marriages end in divorce. The main causes are financial trouble and romantic disillusionment. Too many of us mistake sex for love.

When our lives are further complicated by illness, especially chronic illness with no end in sight, reality slams us in the tush like a runaway train.  If you and I can survive the dive to earth, real love can be so much satisfying than the fictional, Hollywood version. One is fleeting and one is not. If you or your significant other can’t handle hard times, then love may not have been there at all. It may also have faded away. Sometimes it takes time and adjustment. Other times it requires counseling but always it requires faith in each other and the type of love that is enduring. Oh come on, you wouldn’t have wanted Mr. Homo Fictus; well, maybe at first but only until you found out he loves his mirror more than you. As for Ms. Homo Fictus, unless she gets run through by a sword, she will eventually run out of enough make-up to hide illness or age.

True love is tested over and over again in this world. Love is always a two-way street. There will be times when you are overweight or ill or both. He may have his turn as well. Look at so many of those heroic young spouses and their amputated and maimed veterans. Life has changed forever for them, as well as some of us.

There will be times when his relatives and friends will drive you crazy and other times you will also wish you had been adopted. There will be days when you can’t rush home from work if you’re able to work, cook a gourmet dinner and serve it in a sarong and ruffled apron. There will be other days when he won’t shave, has more gas than Texaco and insists on wearing that ratty old plaid, stained shirt. You know the one with paint stains on it?

Remember whatever life throws your way it is better to be loved for what you are than for what someone wants you to be. Genuine, lasting love will stand up to challenges and will endure.