What is love? By Haddaway: http://youtube.com/watch?v=nsCXZczTQXo

The question in the title of this post is one of immediate importance. I’ll try to confront and answer the question as a scientist would, but without doing any research or experimentation. To that degree, I suppose I’m not confronting the question like a scientist at all then. However, I will be using fancy words with a lot of style, but arguably with no substance…like a politician (ZING). I hope you find my analysis worthwhile, enlightening, and above all, entertaining.

Professionals, scientists, and scholars have devoted a majority of their time and resources in order to answer a wide array of questions like: is there a God? Did Shakespeare write all of his play by himself? And why did President Bush get elected twice? Unfortunately, outside of mere speculation and theory, these questions, and similar others, are void of any concrete and valid answers. However, the most immediate and elusive question that the human race, especially artists, have pondered for centuries is that of love.

Artists attempt to answer the world’s most elusive questions aesthetically, rather than scientifically, through art, music, film, writing, etc. The question at hand has particularly been a long-lasting and defining theme of the music industry. In a medium that uses the word “baby” and “love” about as many times President Bush has been cited as using the words “umm” and “aww,” music has captivated its audience with its emotionally charged lyrics and seductive melodies. It’s an industry that prides itself on its ability to be present even after the lights go out (thanks in large part to cheesy 80s jazz). With a countless number of songs about love, does music also answer the seemingly unanswerable?

One song, in particular, attempts to answer the question about love directly, if the title of the song is any indication. The song, “What is Love,” by Haddaway, begins with the all too appropriate question: “what is love?” As the listeners anticipate the answer that should follow shortly thereafter, Mr. Haddaway proceeds by singing, “Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more…” Then an upbeat and techno-inspired melody filler follows. An ingenious marketing ploy if I ever saw one. Stamp an unanswerable question on the front cover, lure the customer by misleading them into believing the CD has the key to the answer, and Mr. Haddaway buys himself a fifty million dollar house. We, on the other hand, are left in the same place we started, but fifteen dollars poorer.

It seems as though we humans are the only species on the planet that can’t directly answer the seemingly simple question, not even in our songs. Animals seem to have found their answer, as their limited capacity to think and reason outside of their genetic and biological instincts have rendered their understanding of love as mere sexual infatuation. For humans, the relationship has to be much more complex.

So what is love you may ask? There’s no easy answer, but I have written a short narrative (from a man’s point of view) that I hope is almost as orgasmic for you to read as it was for me to write:

Love is when a woman looks into your eyes with devoted hunger and yours look straight back. Love is when a woman grasps your shoulders firmly with bare hands as if to share the weight that you bear. Love is when a woman begins moving closer to you in a slow, seductive manner that transfers her body’s heat over to yours. Love is when a woman begins swaying her hands back and forth across your spine while massaging every tension in your body. Love is when a slow seductive melody engulfs both of your bodies with aural pleasure. Love is when the music stops and the lights turn on and the woman looks down, and says:

“what the heck is that?”

“That’s my penis,” you proudly boast.

Surprised, and appearing a bit disappointed she exclaims, “oh damn, I thought you were a woman.”

Caught off-guard, and embarrassed, you say: “oh shit, I guess the long hair does confuse some,”

While nodding her head, “Yeah. This is quite uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

You snap back, “Why yes, yes it is.”

With the look of disappointment evident in her face, she proceeds to sing: “What is love? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more.” Her eyes begin drifting away from yours as tears fill her eyes.

Before you lose her from your grip, you make one last attempt to capture her heart, and sing: “You and me, baby ain’t, nothing but mammals, so let’s do it like they did it on the discovery channel.”

She smiles and agrees. Both of you live happily ever after.

Fin.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is exactly what love is all about. When a female is willing to convert her sexuality in order to satisfy a man’s every erotic and animalistic fantasy. Suffice to say, this situation could work both ways (that is, a man converting his sexuality from homosexual to heterosexual in order to satisfy a woman’s fantasy would still be love).

This is exactly why “My Best Friend’s Wedding” was such a satisfying movie. Julianne chases Michael for 95% of the movie in order to satiate her sexual thirst with Michael after Kimmy has already got his penis in her disposal. The movie ends unsatisfactorily when Julia finally loses her prey to Kimmy and Michael enjoys a nice car ride with Kimmy in a “just married” limousine, both excited about what is to come in the hotel room. Julianne, on the other hand, is left behind at the wedding party as the limousine leaves behind nothing but a gust of smoke from its exhaust pipe.

But wait! There’s George (the dashingly handsome Gay single in the movie) to save the day. The buildup is genius. George calls her on her cell phone. Julianne tells him how she has moved on and has let Michael go in a melancholy tone. George tells her that he is proud of her, but wants her to cheer up and enjoy the party. But with the thoughts of Kimmy giving Michael a hand job in the Limo, how could she? George then comments on Julianne’s velvet dress, hinting his own presence at the party. Julianne transforms from a tiger that loses its prey to a lion, to a mouse sniffing through a maze in order to find some new cheese. And then, when the “crowds part”, and a familiar song begins to play, there he is, her beacon of light, her avenue of hope, her sex machine.

Unfortunately for her, George crushes her sexual prospects when he tells Julianne, “Maybe there won’t be a wedding, maybe there’s won’t be sex, but by God, there will be dancing.” Something amazing happens in this scene. Julianne’s reaction is surprisingly positive. No sex? Just…dancing? Where’s the pleasure in that? But you know what? I had a revelation. Maybe love isn’t about sex, after all. And maybe love has nothing to do about converting your sexuality in order to satisfy a member from the opposite sex. If that’s the case, why the fuck did I write this post?

Watch the scene for yourself: http://youtube.com/watch?v=VPGmqA4_-WM&feature=related