You might enjoy Gilbert and Sullivan’s satirical light opera “Patience”. In it, there’s a poet that all the women of a village have fallen deeply in love with, except one woman, named Patience, who doesn’t like him; and unfortunately the poet seems interested in Patience and not in any of the other women, who are therefore miserable and moping about it. Patience has never been in love, doesn’t understand it, naively asks questions about it, and is puzzled by the answers. It thus serves as a vehicle to poke fun at various contemporary notions of what love is supposed to be.
MAIDENS. Twenty love-sick maidens we, Love-sick all against our will. Twenty years hence we shall be Twenty love-sick maidens still! ... ANGELA Love feeds on hope, they say, or love will die; MAIDENS Ah, misery! ANGELA Yet my love lives, although no hope have I! MAIDENS Ah, misery! ... MAIDENS All our love is all for one, Yet that love he heedeth not, He is coy and cares for none, Sad and sorry is our lot! Ah, misery! ... PATIENCE. I cannot tell what this love may be That cometh to all but not to me. It cannot be kind as they’d imply, Or why do these ladies sigh? It cannot be joy and rapture deep, Or why do these gentle ladies weep? It cannot be blissful as ’tis said, Or why are their eyes so wondrous red? ...
ANGELA. Ah, Patience, if you have never loved, you have never known true happiness! (All sigh.) PATIENCE. But the truly happy always seem to have so much on their minds. The truly happy never seem quite well. JANE. There is a transcendentality of delirium – an acute accentuation of supremest ecstasy – which the earthy might easily mistake for indigestion. But it is not indigestion – it is æsthetic transfiguration! ... PATIENCE. If love is a thorn, they show no wit Who foolishly hug and foster it. If love is a weed, how simple they Who gather it, day by day! If love is a nettle that makes you smart, Then why do you wear it next your heart? And if it be none of these, say I, Ah, why do you sit and sob and sigh?
(The biggest missing factor in Patience’s model is probably the fact that the maidens’ love is unrequited. Though this is complicated by the fact that some people do enjoy fantasizing about not-necessarily-requited love, at least some of the time.)
Later, Patience gets the idea that love must be selfless… And therefore, it’s improper for her to love someone who has lots of good qualities, because that would benefit her; instead she should marry an awful person, because living with them is absolutely unselfish. So she agrees to marry that poet, Bunthorne, who is vain, posturing, moody, petty, etc. But then Bunthorne promises to reform himself into a good man. Patience is initially delighted by this, but then realizes the implications.
PATIENCE. Oh, Reginald, I’m so happy! Oh, dear, dear Reginald, I cannot express the joy I feel at this change. It will no longer be a duty to love you, but a pleasure — a rapture — an ecstasy! BUN. My darling! [embracing her] PATIENCE. But — oh, horror! [recoiling from him] BUN. What’s the matter? PATIENCE. Is it quite certain that you have absolutely reformed — that you are henceforth a perfect being — utterly free from defect of any kind? BUN. It is quite certain. I have sworn it. PATIENCE. Then I never can be yours! [crossing to R.C.] BUN. Why not? PATIENCE. Love, to be pure, must be absolutely unselfish, and there can be nothing unselfish in loving so perfect a being as you have now become! BUN. But, stop a bit. I don’t want to change — I’ll relapse — I’ll be as I was —
I would say that there is a place, in proper love relationships, for a thing that might at first glance resemble “unselfishness”. But that thing is less “assigning zero value to your own happiness / well-being / etc.” and more “assigning a similar value to your partner’s utility as to your own”, so that e.g. if something costs yourself 10 utils and benefits her 20 utils, you’ll do it (and in a healthy relationship, lots of things like this happen in both directions and it’s net positive for both). But it’s pretty fair to say that general cultural transmission doesn’t make things like this clear.
You might enjoy Gilbert and Sullivan’s satirical light opera “Patience”. In it, there’s a poet that all the women of a village have fallen deeply in love with, except one woman, named Patience, who doesn’t like him; and unfortunately the poet seems interested in Patience and not in any of the other women, who are therefore miserable and moping about it. Patience has never been in love, doesn’t understand it, naively asks questions about it, and is puzzled by the answers. It thus serves as a vehicle to poke fun at various contemporary notions of what love is supposed to be.
(The biggest missing factor in Patience’s model is probably the fact that the maidens’ love is unrequited. Though this is complicated by the fact that some people do enjoy fantasizing about not-necessarily-requited love, at least some of the time.)
Later, Patience gets the idea that love must be selfless… And therefore, it’s improper for her to love someone who has lots of good qualities, because that would benefit her; instead she should marry an awful person, because living with them is absolutely unselfish. So she agrees to marry that poet, Bunthorne, who is vain, posturing, moody, petty, etc. But then Bunthorne promises to reform himself into a good man. Patience is initially delighted by this, but then realizes the implications.
I would say that there is a place, in proper love relationships, for a thing that might at first glance resemble “unselfishness”. But that thing is less “assigning zero value to your own happiness / well-being / etc.” and more “assigning a similar value to your partner’s utility as to your own”, so that e.g. if something costs yourself 10 utils and benefits her 20 utils, you’ll do it (and in a healthy relationship, lots of things like this happen in both directions and it’s net positive for both). But it’s pretty fair to say that general cultural transmission doesn’t make things like this clear.
That’s funny. :) Thanks for the recommendation.