Jacques Lacan, one of psychoanalysis' most loved and hated brilliant theoretics, points out that although love is a futile chasing after something that does not exist, there is nevertheless a love beyond this “making love,” a love that exists beyond lack and limitation and that involves a sort of ecstasy of being. The irony is that in making love we think we know what we want, but it turns out to be an illusion, while this other love touches on a real experience of which we know nothing.
The mundane view of love involves an element of receiving something. Like “I love chocolate” really means that “I enjoy getting the experience of the taste of chocolate.” This is the same for love, where “I love you” implies “I enjoy touching your body,” or “I enjoy believing that you will give me security or protection,” or “I enjoy having sex with you” (or “I want to have sex with you"). As a result, Lacan, in his teachings about love, describes the typical act of love as “polymorphous perversion.” That is, we look for satisfaction in all the various titillating parts of the body but never find what is truly sought. How gloomy. Actually, all this Lacanian conception of love comes up to is that you cannot find love through sex?
Essentially, we simply cannot ever acquire that which we essentially desire: an impossible perfection of a fleeting fantasy.
1 comments:
for when life gets too complicated on its own, French theorists are the ones that'll make you feel better.
no wait.
but, in the end, I agree, albeit every so slightly, with Monsieur Lacan. sex does not equal a relationship.
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