There is a song here in Italy that somehow is considered the bible on the nature of love. It dates back to the early nineties of last century, and since then, generations of Italian lovers of every age can’t help but muse on those lines of wisdom, particularly when a love affair bitterly comes to an end. “What did that Marco Ferradini say?” ” Take a woman, treat her badly………ahhh, I should have followed his advice!” I know that from these few  words you might jump to the conclusion that this song is a plea for the macho cause, but it is not. The subject is: women. What do women want? What can a man do to make a woman love him? The main narrating voice, who very likely, has been recently dumped, tells his friend his ideas on love and women, a theorem, in fact:

Take a woman,tell her you love her
Write her love songs,send her roses and poems
Give her heart juices too
Make her feel important
Give her the best of the best you’ve got
Try to be a tender lover
Be always near her
Get her out of troubles

And be sure she will leave you
Who is too much loved will not give love in return
And be sure she will leave you
Who loves less is always the strongest one, everyone knows.

Take a woman,treat her badly
Make her wait you for hours
Don’t show up and when you call her
Act as if you were doing her a favor
Make her feel less important
Balance well  love and cruelty
Try to be a tender lover
But out of the bed show no mercy

And then you’ll see, she will love you
Who loves less, more love gets in return
And then you’ll see, she will love you
Who loves less is the strongest one, everyone knows.

marco3These assertions are so bewildering, that nobody ever remembers the words his friend uses to soothe his sorrow. It is a weak conclusion, in fact.  More or less he says: you speak like this, because you are embittered, you don’t need to change to find a woman who loves you, after all, what is a man without love and so on. I had to check the lyrics on google,actually, I had even forgotten there was this final part. However, is there any truth in these words or is it only a male point of view? After years and years of feminist battles, in the secrecy of our heart do we keep craving for unattainable, unreliable, selfish, but irresistibly charming men?

We do. We have to admit it. This truth is not only in the lines of Marco Ferradini’s song, but above all, you may read it clearly in the immortal pages of all those novels we have read and loved. A gallery of irresistible, fascinating rascals that has made us throb and dream: Mr Lovelace, Mr Wickham,John Willoughby, Heathcliff, Mr Rochester only to mention some of the most popular ones and I’m sure that in the past of every woman there is at least one of those fellows, before deciding to marry somebody more trustworthy and even-tempered sort of man like Mr Edgar Linton.

marco2In a famous passage of Wuthering Heights, Nelly Dean and Catherine Earnshaws discuss about the nature of love. Catherine has already accepted to marry the rich, sober, composed Edgar Linton and she wants to know from her whether it was the right choice. Their dialogue looks very much like a session at a psychologist, as Nelly only asks questions in order to make her reach that degree of awareness that will make her openly confess her true love for somebody else, Heatchcliff : ” He is more myself than I am” , Cathy will eventually acknowledge and adds: “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.’ These words confirm Marco Ferradini’s theorem. Women want “lightning” even if it is destructive and “fire” even if you may get burnt, hence even if Cathy resolves upon marrying his “moonbeam” Mr Linton, the fire of her impossible passion for Heathclill will inevitably destroy her.



23 thoughts on “Theorem

      • Perhaps the sterner sex may also be feeling the same way!
        Here is a quote from P G Wodehouse:
        β€˜Why? You were crazy about the girl once.’
        β€˜But no longer. The fever has passed, the scales have fallen from my eyes, and we’re just good friends. The snag in this business of falling in love, aged relative, is that the parties of the first part so often get mixed up with the wrong parties of the second part, robbed of their cooler judgment by the parties of the second part’s glamour. Put it like this. The male sex is divided into rabbits and non-rabbits and the female sex into dashers and dormice, and the trouble is that the male rabbit has a way of getting attracted by a female dasher (who would be fine for the male non-rabbit) and realizing too late that he ought to have been concentrating on some mild, gentle dormouse with whom he could settle down peacefully and nibble lettuce.’
        It was used by yours truly in the following post:

  1. Mad, bad and/or dangerous — it’s not just women who fantasise about being dominated or infatuated with the polar opposite of what they imagine themselves to be. From fairy lovers or la Belle Dame Sans Merci onwards fascination with an inappropriate other is a commonplace in popular culture as it must have been in practice. Is it just the hope of guilt-free pleasure to submit “unwillingly” to this allure or are the deeper psychological or biological reasons for this kind of behaviour? Very thought-provoking, Stefy.

  2. This is in a similar vein to the self-inflicted pain I wrote of this week Steph but I was portraying the fantasy of The Romantics and your examples are from romantic fiction. I am sure that the reality is different and women know the difference, and the contrast between a ballad written in poor taste and a genuine love song. I love your use of the word ‘theorem’ here and am amused by my interpretation of this as an inference that the female is a complicated formula to be ‘solved’! πŸ˜€

    • It is, in fact . We’ve chosen more or less the same subject this week, but the tone of your poem was wonderfully delicate as I wrote. Women a complicated formula? I have to admit, we are ; “it is a truth universally acknowledged ” after all. πŸ˜‰

  3. It’s always amazed me over the years Stephy as to how many women fall for the bad boys. They find themselves treated like second class citizens, ignored and abused and yet they can’t let go.

      • I guess it drives people onward: Rejected man puts all of his energies into finding cure for *add problem here* lives to a ripe old age and is remembered as wise. He didn’t get laid but boy wasn’t he wise. πŸ™‚

  4. After reading this article, I looked through my bookcase, over those stories that have made me cry, laugh and stay awake late intorno the night.
    My favourite characters: “great scoundrels for great love stories”.
    Then I thought about my favourite movies and songs (they are nearly all about love), and about those posts Instagram recommends to me: depression, desperation, hope, thirst for revenge … but either way, a certain state of mind, I know, you’ll understand.
    Now, I don’t know if I was born like this or if somehow it’s all those readings and listenings’ fault, but today I feel just like I am living a TV-series, or a Bronte’s novel (speaking of which). And if you meant what I’m going to try to explain, yes: I am one of those girls, emancipated and modern young women, who fall in love with human cases “strongest sice they love less”. I can’t explain it, I wish I could, but if there is something I learnt about love, is that everyone plays his game differently, and the deepest you feel is the biggest misfortune toghether with the greatest fortune you could experience.
    There is no doubt about the time when the feeling and the passion are the strongest; I’m talking about the very first phase of the falling in love: that moment in which you are mad, drunk, literally struck by love…and I think that looking for a kind of Heathcliff stays for a love whose “uncertainty” constantly feeds that original flame of mystery and surprise. It doesn’t master reason or objective similarities in here, there are soul mates and nothing more, soul mates whose matching no one could explain, whose fire burns even against all logic.
    Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it’s just our Red Cross mindset, or a good spanking of masochism, but I’m one of those girls who venture living of mad pulses, fill their failings with carbs and fall in love with idiots.

    • My sweetest, you are just making your own antibodies, which means that you’ll keep on being attracted by idiots, but next time an Edgar type stands in your way, well, you’ll give him a chance, I am sure. 😘

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.