Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Chivalry is Dead, Long Live Chivalry
Maybe it is because spring has sprung and the lusty warm days of summer are ahead of us, but my mind has been turning to romantic pursuits as of late. I’d generally be worried about being in such a state if I were not also in the throes of my annual philosophical rebirth. My mind turning from the everyday toil to indulge in tender thoughts, has found safety in the lazy river of romantic love. So into a turbulent world of Piracy and Teabagging, of social networking and comedy, and of the beautiful paradox that is southern California that I thrust my sword and call out the ancient battle cry of the Grail King- “Amor!”
Now, if I were to follow through with the Grail King analogy, you would find me castrated by a Saracen representing nature. I hardly need a de-balling by a symbolic Taliban to remind me of the dangers of launching hips first into amorous adventures, especially while wagging my sword under the guise of more noble pursuits. Yet I am recognizing within me a clear-headedness in regards to the quest for romantic love that seems to be at incredible odds with the whirlwind of an existence that I have carved out for myself.
I acknowledge then, that this exquisite intrusion into my reality has been a welcome break, and I sense the urge is strong to bring these desires both mental and physical to fruition. But how the hell do I channel my inner Chivalric romantic self into some real-world lovin’ from a lady worthy of my mighty efforts? Moreover, what will my mighty efforts be?
The answer came to me the other day. While at work my co-worker complained of having to “Play the game”, a complaint that I’ve heard often and am guilty of myself. “The Game” of course refers to the tit for tat of modern courtship. A girl who feels a lusty desire for a man, will counter-instinctually become coy and prudish in order to fulfill some long lost moral code. A lad, knowing full well that his sole intent is to bed a lassie, will nonetheless spend time and money on her, even if that is not required. You must be interested, but not TOO interested. You must be outgoing, but not obnoxious. You can’t call for three days after you meet , you kiss on the first date, but only depending on the mood of the evening. She wants a bad boy with a career, he wants a virgin slut, you do not have sex on the first date, but if you do you shouldn’t expect it to mean anything. You don’t date someone younger than your age, divided by two plus seven. The rules continue, and it becomes obvious that you must, in fact, play a rather self-imposed game.
Why the hell? We demand that others jump through hoops and deny ourselves the gratification we seek. We bang our heads in frustration, beat our chests and scream “WTF?”. What ARE the rules for this DUMB game, and from what ring in Satan’s bunghole did they come?
Chivalry, dammit. Fuckin’ Chivalry. We owe the confusion of modern dating to the chappies who first strutted up to a lady, while sporting tights and a lute, and instead of violating her on the spot, sang her a song. She however, is not blameless. If she had fallen back and spread em at the moment she first began to feel herself swoon, then we wouldn’t be in this mess either. Instead, she gave him a hankerchief, and asked him to come back. He came back after slaying a dragon for her, and she allowed him to kiss the back of her neck, and so on until we are so mired in rules that we abandon them altogether, get drunk, and hope for the best. So why do we find ourselves insisting on applying qualifications to our amorous intents even if we have in the past been exhausted by these self inflicted rules and given ourselves to more base inclinations?
The answer is obvious to all of those who have been through a breakup. The few fortunate enough to have had a hole in one and live in the bliss of never having to look for “more”, will marvel at the difficulty of the quest for those who are single. Having achieved love once we know of the fulfillment that a sharing of hearts can bring and ultimately we surrender to the joy of companionship, friendship and the Nasty. The troubadors discovered what we know to be true. That there is a much higher bliss to be experienced and it is far more rewarding than simply bumpin’ uglies. Which sucks, because the urge to get it on can be a powerful force. But we are wary of those who fail to see the value of an emotional connection. Let’s face it, none of us seem to think that getting it on with everyone all the time is an admirable quality even to those who may practice such physical liberalism. So even those who we would consider horn dogs, or poon hounds (Canine themes, huh. Doggy style?) will opt for the truer and deeper connection.
Ok, we get it. The quest for the Grail IS the true gift , blah blah blah, the journey is as important as the destination, blah blah blah, wow Alf you are so deep and sexy, blah blah blah…how the hell does that help us in the game of love? How can we play without being playas? What sucks for us even more so than the aforementioned suckage of not being able to find fulfillment in shagging our brains out, is that we all KNOW what it takes to play the game successfully, and its not easy. In fact, its as difficult as Chinese Algebra. It is the denial of self. Ugh. It is that moment when the eyes scout out what the heart desires and the self opens up to unlimited kindness, both receiving and giving. I know. I KNOW this is coming from me, but I think or at least hope we all know what I’m talking about. Mercifully our psyches, nature, society and upbringing give us plenty of opportunities to fuck things up.
So how do I intend on keeping this heady selfless stuff in mind while I fumble my way through the beautiful women of Los Angeles? How can a walking boner ever hope to find “Amour”?
By remembering the basic tenets of chivalry:
Strength with Compassion-
Go for it dude, but don’t be a dick about it.
No one likes a wuss, but the overly aggro are being selfish and that’s just not cool. Find that chill spot on the clutch while idling on a hill and get ready to hit the gas or hit the brakes.
Integrity with Boldness-
Be yourself, but be your AWESOME self.
If you act like a party guy all the time you better be a party guy. Me, I can be a little boring and long winded, a tad heady, yes. But I can party like a soccer hooligan should the slightly boring, heady, long winded occasion present itself. False advertising is the realm of douche bags, the desperate, and teen romantic comedies.
Action with Contemplation-
Make your move, but think about the consequences.
This is a toughie, and definitely one that the walking boner has trouble with. All I can say is that you need to really tread carefully and be sensitive to the other person and on what sort of journey are both going. Don’t let your loins get in your way of seeing red flags. Then again, know which red flags you can ignore.
I think that actually covers it. For everyone. I mean, it doesn’t make things easier, but at least we know that this fight has been fought before and we see the evidence of romantic love everywhere. I’d rather try and be a part of it than sit idly by andwait for the occasional carnal delight. So don your armor, and go forth with a pure heart, like the Grail King, you have nothing to lose but your balls.