I listen to the music of my adolescence and young adulthood frequently. As that meant (and means) a whole lot of hair metal and new wave, I heard (and hear) a lot of lyrics about sex and love.
Some of it, particularly the sexual content, is pretty cringey now. (Was then too, surely, but now it’s a guy in his mid-50s listening.) Usually it’s just corny and ham-fisted, but sometimes it’s unambiguously misogynistic. (Not that such is hard to find in popular music today either.)
The lovey stuff leans tamer. Of course there are sugarlicious professions and tortured pinings, and there is occasional jealousy. I was a primary target demographic, so a lot of it was written For Me, and yet I didn’t (and don’t) connect with most of it on anything but a superficial level. I never had to win my girlfriend (or wife) over a rival suitor, for example. The only time there was one, I didn’t know it until the relationship was completely lost. That made for a brutal broken heart, but likely a quicker recovery (long as it felt at the time).
I asked Lea recently whether she thought we’d missed out on anything, not having any real relationship drama leading up to our marriage. We both readily dismissed the notion. We’ve had plenty to get through together, and though rockier roads aren’t fun, we’re both heartened to look back and consider we were able to navigate them because we turned toward and not away from each other.
One of my favorite young people in the entire world is getting married soon. I’ve told him many times over the past several years that when they sang “all you need is love,” The Beatles were full of shit. ”It’s necessary, but not sufficient,” he recently quipped.
Yes, my actuary in training. And how do you wrap it up?
”Absence of perceived alternatives.”
He’s got it.