On The Unending Stupidity Of Epics

by Sherlock Holmes

Imagine you are reading an incredibly engaging story about two heroes who have embarked upon a journey. What are they doing? Questing for an item, the narrative so helpfully says. These two heroes go through strife and peril to find this mysterious item that has been unfortunately placed in a dangerous and uninhabitable location. Thus the reason that heroes were employed for this quest and not say, the local errand boy.

True to epic hero standards, these two people learn to trust, respect and likely even love each other. Betrayals were had, truths found and after many deaths and tears, the two found the item and returned to the peoples who sent them in the first place.

Oddly enough, stories tend to skim over the return journey, when logic says that would actually be the most difficult part of the trip. For instance, all of those sneak assassinations they pulled have likely been discovered by now, and the areas are now on high alert. All the nefarious people they escaped through tricky wordplay, poison-swapping or bargaining via unloyal minions would likely be extremely frustrated. They'd probably send out more vicious lions and well-armed minions than usual. Well, the poisoned ones would probably still be dead. Poison may be their best plan in that instance.

However, there may have been a more cunning vice-commander who was waiting for the perfect opportunity to perform a coup. Thus the previously nefarious organization foolishly wasting time on world domination could now be trying to sell their advanced weapons technology to the highest bidder, thus arming angry people against other furious people to promote a type of international warfare that this geographic region just isn't prepared for.

Pending global destruction, the heroes of our tale must go through this landscape which has been made even MORE treacherous, simply by their passage. They'd likely be wounded, completely exhausted, and carrying an extremely valuable and likely unwieldy item.

Thus, you may be quite bewildered as to why writers never seemed to include the trip back home. Perhaps it'd be too hard to write? That excuse seems flimsy, because they wouldn't even have to describe the environment or enemies again - the reader has already an image in their mind of the rocky place where x event happened. They also remember quite vivadly the boat on which z's hand was horribly mangled by some sort of siren's pet monster. I am, of course, exaggerating. No one's hands have been mangled recently to my knowlege, but we are talking about a fantastical and purely hypothetical story.

You may also be wondering why such stories always involved a fair amount of romance and sex.

If it was intended for younger eyes, the ending was probably something closer to 'happily ever after' or 'true love's kiss' or some other nonsense that leaves a feeling of closure without actually explaining anything. Older eyes may get some graphic scenes, or 'they made love' or possibly even a time-skip to the point where children have hence been born of their coupling and inherited their parent's magnetism for adventure. If this was a tragedy, there was love and someone died before their time. Perhaps they both died, what woe! That death should tear two loving souls apart, how awful. I don't see the appeal in ending the story there, quite honestly. There is always so much potential for remaining relatives to figure out exactly who did what and why, but they never seem to even try. No investigation or evidence. The narrative simply hands them the answer, when everyone knows this is hardly the case in real life.

But, that is not quite the point.

The point is wondering why. Why do people who love each other need to have sexual interest in one another? Aside from family relations, there are very few stories where two people are friends and go on an adventure and remain purely friends. No sexual tension, just a strong desire to stay by their side. There is love like that, after all. People who vow to protect their friends without secretly wanting to get into their trousers. People who can look at someone with admiration, inspiration and yes, even love, without feeling the need to get naked with that person.

And so you may ask yourself - where are these stories? Where can I read them?

Why is close friendship always seen as a tragic sacrifice one must endure when making romantic overtures - as if you'd lose that friendship if the affection were denied. Perhaps people just assume that with romantic intentions also come sexual intentions, despite that not always being the case. It is completely possible, nay, completely reasonable to think that a person can want to live forever with someone without also wanting to rub genitals.

Those urges seem quite different if you give them any thought at all.

As you venture on with whatever story you may be reading keep in mind that there are many types of loves. The Greeks divided it up into four sections.

First is Storge - Affection, acceptance, or the ability to put up with someone with a sigh and an eye-roll. To the Greeks is was primarily familial in nature, easy to form between parents and children.

The second is Philia - Mental love. It has a give-and-take, affectionate regard and friendship. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity.

The third is Eros - "physical" passionate love, with sensual desire and longing. Romantic, pure emotion without the balance of logic. "Love at first sight". Eros does not have to be sexual in nature. Although eros is initially felt for a person, with contemplation it becomes an appreciation of the beauty within that person, or even becomes appreciation of beauty itself.

The final form is Agape - it often refers to a general affection or deeper sense of "true unconditional love" rather than the attraction suggested by "eros." This love is selfless; it gives and expects nothing in return. Whether the love given is returned or not, the person continues to love (even without any self-benefit).

With so many types of love, why are so many stories revolving around the sexual side of Eros? What obsession do people have with sex that they cannot find the intrigue and tension surrounding the others as well? That is only one tiny fraction of the amount of love that someone can give!

What then, of the stories where one person has true Agape for someone, but that other only has Philia to offer in return. Where are the stories where one must accept that they will always be friends with this person, never their partner. Yet they continue to follow this one person, perfect in their eyes, around the world - not out of sexual desire, jealousy or some lingering desire to be the one to say marriage vows… rather, simply because they are in love, and are happiest by that person's side. To be without that person would be to experience unending torment.

What of the other side, when a person is faced with Agape when they cannot return those feelings? What of the sorrow and indecision and fear in knowing that someone has placed all power over themselves into your hands. The war of pity and appreciation; This person you care for is hopelessly devoted to someone who does not return that devotion, yet endlessly thankful that there will always be one person you can count on and trust. Do you allow this person to continue following, blaming yourself for taking up their life, or do you attempt to drive them off and lose that person? Do you fake Agape in return?

These tense relationship conflicts erupt on their own between friends, family members and acquaintances all the time, without sex ever being involved.

Some people have the sexual side of Eros without feeling Agape or Philia towards their partner.

Some people never feel Agape at all.

It should not be a stretch for people to exist that feel all those other types of love, without the sexual side of Eros.

Nor should it feel like a lesser love when someone declares they feel Agape toward you - it is, after all, the 'unconditional' and 'all-encompassing' type of love...

As I am typing this out, I realize I have gotten quite sidetracked. I intended to write an introduction to one of John's silly blog posts. I believe the original complaint was regarding his lengthy descriptions of unlawfully breaking into a heavily-guarded area (Of course I am exaggerating, Lestrade, this is a dramatic retelling of a mundane activity, as I'm sure you'll hear from John in the morning.) and completely skimming over the dramatic retelling of our escape. As John will later note and likely complain about, greek descriptors of love (while being completely relevant to his poor writing techniques) have nothing to do with trying not to get stabbed while deducing a murderer's rather obvious drug habit. Yet, with John watching me scrutinizingly from his perch at the kitchen table, I do know that he will become quite irate if I suddenly delete the majority of this text.

Since tea and silk shirts go quite poorly together, I'll finish up here and leave him to read this lovely introduction after it's been posted on his own blog. With the amount of time it takes for him to read and process information, I'm sure I'll be quite safe across London by the time he realizes this is not what he requested.

On a side note, John, we are out of sugar. Once you've begun your trip to Gladstone Park, please pick some up on the way.