When I think about love, that old line by William Goldman about Hollywood comes back to me: Nobody knows anything. It seems that as we grow franker about sex (witness the Naked Attraction TV show, recently described as ‘Blind Date in a brothel’) love reveals less of its mysteries. Just as we’ve all now seen on screen 1001 ways to kill someone and yet know nothing about death, we now know 69 ways to screw someone – once more, often seen on screen for the less adventurous amongst us – and nothing about love. Not even the most basic stuff – how to avoid falling in love with someone we shouldn’t, or how to stay in love with someone we should.
In my opinion, whether we are lucky in love will probably impact more on our chances of finding happiness in life than income, intelligence or success in our chosen careers. I’m aware that this is an unusual thing for a feminist zealot to say, but my long, louche life has convinced me that – for me at least – it’s true.
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