by
Esther Perel
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We are indeed a nation that prides itself on efficiency. But here’s the catch: eroticism is inefficient. It loves to squander time and resources. As Adam Phillips wryly notes, “In our erotic life work does not work . . . trying is always trying too hard. Eroticism is an imaginative act, and you can’t measure it. We glorify efficiency and fail to recognize that the erotic space is a radiant interlude in which we luxuriate, indifferent to demands of productivity; pleasure is the only goal. Octavio Paz writes, “The moment of merging is a crack in time, a balm against the wounds inflicted by the minutes and hours of time. A moment totally eternal as it is ephemeral.” It is a leap into a world beyond.
This leap entails a loss of control that we’re taught from a very young age to guard against. We are socialized to tame our primal side: our unruly impulses, our sexual urges, and our rapacious appetites. Social order is built on this restraint, and lack thereof threatens to create chaos. Because loss of control is almost exclusively seen in a negative light, we don’t even entertain the idea that surrender can be emotionally or spiritually enlightening. But experiencing a temporary suspension of our discernible self is often liberating and expansive. I have seen many people stumble when they can’t simply take the problem of eros and fix it. They are left feeling bewildered and frightened by their slackened command. I help them learn how to relinquish control intentionally, as a means of personal growth and self-discovery.
i like the paz quote
What Stephanie fails to see is that behind Warren’s nagging insistence is a yearning to be intimate with his wife. For him, sex is a prelude to intimacy, a pathway to emotional vulnerability. She responds to him as if he were one more needy child. She doesn’t realize that this is not just for him but for her, too. Like a lot of women, once she’s in the caretaking mode she has a hard time switching it off. She’s so mentally organized in terms of what she does for everyone else that she is unable to recognize when something is offered to her.
What Warren finds intolerable is that his approach is having the opposite effect of what he intends. He is desperate for a flicker of desire from Stephanie, but he wants it just to be there, sudden and whole, the way it is for him. I explain to him that expecting our partner to be in the mood just because we are is a setup for disappointment. We take lack of desire as a personal rejection, and forget that one of the great elixirs of passion is anticipation. You can’t force desire, but you can create an atmosphere where desire might unfurl. You can listen, invite, tease, kiss. You can tempt, compliment, romance, and seduce. All these tactics help to compose an erotic substratum from which your partner can more easily be lifted.
Act II: Enter Ray. In his own words, Ray is a meat-and-potatoes man. He’s the happy product of successful male socialization: independent, self-reliant, and able to handle his own problems. He was not like the guys Joni usually dated—struggling, self-absorbed, emotionally undependable, alcoholic artists who weaseled out of relationships by saying things like, “Let’s not try to define this; can’t we just see where it goes?” and “It’s because I like you that I can’t be with you.” Ray, on the other hand, made it clear that he was interested. He called when he said he would, was never late, and put a lot of thought into planning their dates. “He actually paid attention to what I said. He asked me questions about myself and remembered the answers. I was used to a scene where you can have sex with someone for six months and never even broach the subject of what that might mean or where it might be going. Ray didn’t play that game. He liked me and wasn’t afraid to say so.”
Ray’s openness, his consistency, and his emotional generosity brought Joni a sense of peace and security she had never known in a romantic relationship. She found his ability to intuit her needs positively enchanting, and the fact that he seemed to have so few needs of his own was also a plus.
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Alissa Rosenbaum had lived her short life oblivious to the existence of workers and peasants except as shadowy apparitions, specters of irrationality, or properly subordinated social inferiors. Then oh my god: there they were in the Winter Palace and at her door, behaving as equals and asserting their collective will with the backing of state power. In the midst of food and housing shortages, her family lost their privileged access to resources. The family home was seized and her father’s pharmacy was nationalized. She had no framework for understanding what was happening other than the raw experience of loss. She was not aware of the injustices that motivated the Bolsheviks or the workers and peasants who supported them. She had no access to their aspirations, fantasies, and desires. All Alissa saw was resentment, envy, theft, bullying, and the exercise of illegitimate power by people who did not deserve it and could not exercise it rationally. She rewrote the vast canvas of social, economic, and political conflict underlying the Bolshevik revolution—between Russians and non-Russians, poor peasants and landowning kulaks, workers and bosses, nationalists and internationalists, Christians and Muslims, Marxists and populists—into a stark melodramatic clash between worthy individuals and the mob. Not a surprising reductive analysis for a sheltered and privileged twelve-year-old caught in the swirl of overwhelming events. But she stuck to it and elaborated it for the rest of her life.
sounds fair tbh
Andrei Taganov is a notable exception. Andrei is the son of a factory owner and a true-believing communist who served with Leon Trotsky in the Red Army during the civil war. He is consistently principled, unlike his comrades. He also bears the marks of the superior individual of Ayn Rand’s fictional universe. In her notes on his character in her journal, she writes:
Dominant trait: a born individualist who never discovered it. . . . He has an iron will and unconquerable strength. . . . He has an iron devotion to his ideals, the devotion of a medieval martyr. Capable of anything, any cruelty, if he is convinced that his aim needs it. Cruelty for the cause is, to him, a victory over himself; it gives him the sense of doing his duty against his sentiments. . . . The taste, manners, and tact of an aristocrat, but not conventional manners, just the poise and dignity of a man with inborn good judgement. . . . One of the few people who is absolutely untouched by flattery, admiration, or any form of other people’s opinion. Not because of proud disdain, but because of a natural indifference to it. Subconsciously he knows his superiority and does not need anyone’s endorsement.
not sure what to do with this, but interesting
Ayn Rand arrived on the scene in Hollywood without any clear understanding of the mode of business or the politics of representation developing there. Her initial astounding successes, dependent in part on her ability to assimilate as white, felt to her like pure individual achievement. Then she quickly ran into trouble that she could not comprehend. She arrived as Cecil B. DeMille’s adoring fan, but later dismissed him as a “box office chaser”—a dismissal signaling her failure to grasp the nature of the movies as an industry, where the motor powering profits was precisely box office chasing.
lol
This belief in the inherent moral as well as technological inferiority of “primitive” societies shaped her response to the concern of a Native American cadet at West Point in 1974. The cadet asked her how she squared her beliefs with the historical record of dispossession and extermination of American Indians. She replied that the Indians had had the land for five thousand years and had done nothing with it, saying further that “it is always going to transpire that when a superior technological culture meets up with an inferior one, the superior will prevail.”
whew
So don’t tell me that there’s something uniquely demanding about building yet another fucking startup that dwarfs the accomplishments of The Origin of Species or winning five championship rings. It’s bullshit. Extractive, counterproductive bullshit peddled by people who either need a narrative to explain their personal sacrifices and regrets or who are in a position to treat the lives and wellbeing of others like cannon fodder.
Many of the biggest social media platforms share this one thing in common, they were products designed to connect younger people to parties and facilitate sex. Maybe it is laudable that Jack and Zuckerberg have made an effort to reconceptualize the purpose of their products on such socially conscious terms, but I for one am suspicious of their self-narratives, I am suspicious that it isn’t really all about one thing for them: riding the hype-train into a golden sunset of unlimited wealth. The ambition, certainly, has always been there for the entrepreneur, but the justification of that ambition, the story, that comes after the fact; the story is something designed to conceal the emptiness of the ambition that drives the entrepreneur, the empty ambition of wealth, celebrity and success.
Rather than simply connect us to what our friends are doing, or helping college kids find a party to go to, social media platforms today have conceived of a much grander product to sell: existence. By means of their platforms we obtain existence in the new public sphere, we become observable. Facebook and Twitter don’t just allow us to share moments or memories, they allow us to become, they stream our data to the world so that we might suggest our social existence to others. This is the true dream of the Facebergian global community, a new social dimension into which we project and become, a phantom world of dream bodies peering through the brush of a jungle of data in order to observe one another as we engage in the intimate act of becoming.
We are all always engaged in some kind of self-narratization, not only do we use Zuckerberg’s platform to weave that tale of becoming, but our doing so is in turn predicated on our acceptance of the entrepreneurial bildungsroman of Faceberg and Dorsey, that they give us existence within the global community they benevolently foster. [...]