On the Existence of Romantic Love

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The late, great Carl Sagan was once posed the question, "Do you believe in love?" As a loving husband and devoted father, his reply was naturally "Or course." He who posed the question then followed up with "Prove it." Dr. Sagan had no ready answer.

Familial love is evident in the entire animal kingdom. There is a noticable corelation between the intelligence of a species, and the degree of which they care for their young. The more helpless an animal is at birth, the more intelligent it appears to be. In observance of this, it is no small leap to believe that love makes the world go 'round. With our own offspring being completely helpless for years, we are compelled to care for them and perpetuate intelligence -- and, of course, show them love so that they may pass the trait on to their offspring.

However, this does not explain romantic love; that thing which drives people to sit in front of fireplaces with fine wine and stare into each others' eyes. Now, we have been captivated by fire for hundreds of thousands of years. And sipping a relaxing drink (the more expensive the better) appeals to our nature as providers. This is a bonding process that taps deep into our origins as a species; comfort in front of a crackling fire, and providing for someone you "love".

This bonding, of course, serves the purpose of reproduction. Without such rituals, copulating would be reduced to a bestial activity rather than a perpetuation of the human race. For without this bonding, family life risks degeneration.

Familial love, then, is about caring for our young and perpetuating intelligence so that we can survive and thrive as a species. Romantic love seems to me to be little more than a mating ritual to prepare us for familial love.

Mating rituals have another name: Lust. The peacock spreads its feathers to attract a mate. And boys and girls dance to excite sexual energies.

It is my personal belief that familial love exists as a method of perpetuating intelligence in the human race. Romantic love is little more than lust, a means to an end.


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