bizzare bazaars

Everybody says “I love you” the same, but there are as many ways to act it as there are people, in fact  i’ll wager that  you can’t tell if it’s been said, if you only get to see the acts that follow. They vary that much. Why do we bother saying it if hearing it said is no predictor of consequent action?

Think of loving as going to a bazaar seem more rational. we take our goods there, haggle some, trade our stuff for someone else’s stuff and hopefully makes some deals we are satisfied with. Of course that doesn’t always happen. We cheat and are cheated, we get caught and get away with it. We sometimes get even. We are happy, guilty embarrassed in turn. 

Think of saying “I love you” as currency, as a means because we bring a wallet full of “I love yous” to the bazaar, they are like used bills that way. But who winds the keys? Why do we do what we do, what do we do when our metaphors fail us?
auction auction2A caveat; men are taller than women, yes? yes, but how many men and women need you measure to find one woman taller than any of the men? not that many. so you are warned, allow me to generalize…

 …Sex, to women, is more a means than an end. for men it’s more an end than a means. therefore sex is something men want and women have. Money is something men have (more of) and and women (having less of it) want. and it’s off to the market place we go.

Auctions are ritualized bazaars, public displays of affection. Your goods are catalogued and vetted, and your haggling choreographed by the others. Stick art in the middle between lover and beloved.  Make it the medium and metaphor. Art is the sex. Art is the money.

 

 

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