The world’s wisest dog tells you why he prefers bones to boning.
My name is Postopotamus Dragonfyre. I am a six-year-old Labrador retriever and I am celibate by choice.
Your sniggers do not bother me. ‘Celibate by choice’ is not a euphemism for ‘can’t get laid’. Not that it matters, but several beautiful and nubile ladies of good families have expressed eagerness to take up residence in my atria. Once, my humans actually brought home a temptress to lure me into making a carnal mistake.
How did I react? How would you react if your parents paid someone to have sex with you?
No, celibate by choice means I have taken the conscious decision not to have congress with any other living creature. Emphasis on ‘other’. And on ‘living’. Because if I wasn’t supposed to be licking my balls, God wouldn’t have made them so delicious, and because what else am I supposed to be doing with this giant bear-shaped pillow you put on my bed, mom?
Anyway, another word for my school of thought is philocynical, which my human may have made up because she does that when she doesn’t feel like looking up the correct word for a thing. Philocynicism means I believe love is a scam.
What, did I break your widdle heart? Does the world suddenly seem darker and grimmer? Are you… are you crying? Oh wow, wait, tear-licky time.
Mmmmm. Salt. Mmmm.
Now, get a grip there, because your world of rainbows and pink hearts and pervy fat flying babies with lethal weapons is about to come crashing down. Because here’s the idiot’s guide (yes, that’s you, you’re the idiot) to why love shouldn’t exist.
- Love is inimical to survival
Imagine you and another person are being chased down by a bear. You are going to do everything in your power to make sure the bear doesn’t eat you, even if it means the other person gets eaten. In fact, if you have the tiniest amount of wisdom, you’re going to try your damnedest to get your fellow chasee eaten, whether by outrunning them or tripping them up, or telling them that ethological inexactitude about how bears don’t eat you if you play dead. Because as ol’ Baloo there is snacking on your buddy, you get to flee, undismembered and uningested.
Now imagine the other person is someone you think you love. Now you are wasting most of your time and energy making sure that person is okay. You are running slow so that they don’t fall behind. You are heaving them onto branches before you climb up yourself. And if the bear catches up with them, you’re going to fight a goddamn bear. Yep, the romantics of today are the bear-turds of tomorrow.
But that’s ridiculous, right, because you would never be allowed by nature to do something so harmful to yourself. It’s against evolution!
Well, no. You see…
- Your body is betraying you.
You are bullied so often into taking care of your body that you start thinking of it as your friend, but your body, in fact, wants you destroyed. It doesn’t want you to do the things that are good for you, like exercise, but it does want things that are bad for you, like lardy food, sleeping in on a workday, and love. It wants you to fall in love, so it releases dopamine (also triggered by cocaine and nicotine) and serotonin (also causes insanity). These chemicals make you want to be with someone. So, in a way, your body is roofying you to do something you would otherwise not have agreed to.
‘But Posto’, I hear you moan, ‘WHY would my body make my heart do things that are terrible for me?’ To which I will not respond because who told you we were on first-name terms?
- You think it’s in your heart? Think lower.
There’s no kind way to say this: Your body is drugging you into romantic fuzzy daydreams about someone’s smile or eyes or sweet nature because it wants to have sex. No matter how platonic or pure or hand-holdy you think your feelings are, the only reason you have them in the first place is that your boss, who lives between your legs, needs some sort of friction-based encounter with someone else’s boss. Now look, I like being stroked and petted quite a bit, but I don’t go about lacing people with mind-control drugs just so they’ll do what I want. Your genitals do that. This love that you are even willing to sacrifice your life over? It’s a substance-caused hallucination to get you to do stupid things so that your tender and otherwise useless bits can have a bit of rumpy-pumpy fun.
- There is nothing special.
Love is not special. You are not special. And that ‘special’ someone, who is unmatched in the whole world, who was created just for you? Guess what, not special. You guys are so alike as a species that literally anyone could replace them and you wouldn’t notice. The only reason you are willing to walk over hot coals for a person is that their facial features are arranged in a specific way, or that you happened to have shared an experience or two that you liked, or they were not (or were, maybe. You lot are freaks) an asshole to you. It is almost entirely a coincidence that you met your object of desire first, because eight out of ten people from your preferred gender group could have fulfilled your half-arsed criteria. Your body knows it has a better chance of getting laid regularly, and having some other requirements fulfilled, if you focus on just one fish instead of the whole sea. And so, once again, out comes the roofy, and there you go, like an idiot, worshipping and being possessive about and waxing lyrical over the uniqueness of someone who is exactly like everyone else.
- Sharing is dumb.
You know what’s not a scam? Food. That’s something you actually need to continue existing. And now, because you have been tricked into a chemical fugue of romance, you’re going to get less of it because now you have to share. Your food, your home space, your money, your free time, none of it is just yours anymore. You have willingly signed up to give away half of your life to someone else. And no, it’s not okay because they’re also giving up a half to you, because now you have two mismatched halves instead of one awesome whole.
- Love is bigoted.
What do you call a group of people who accept some people and reject others? You call it an asshole of bigots. Now bring that down to the individual unit. You, a person in love, have accepted one person and rejected everyone else. You see how that makes you a bigot? No? My, I knew humans are slow, but your IQ seems to be in the range of your body temperature. See, we’ve already established that—just as Norwegians are no different from Jamaicans—your ‘special’ someone is no different from anyone else. Now say you see a club that says on the door: ‘Jamaicans only. No Norwegians allowed.’ Before you take a picture and rush off to write an outraged post on Facebook, ask yourself this: Isn’t your ‘love’ for X basically a club that says ‘X only. Non-Xs not allowed’ on the door? Yep, you are a bigot, just a hair-breadth away from roaming the streets in a white sheet looking for someone to lynch.
- Love is artificially conditioned
How old were you when you watched your first romantic movie? How often, before your puberty, did you hear about, or see, people in ‘love’? Even before you knew that your thing is not just for peeing with, did you or did you not see advertisements with people wooing, or pining for, others?
Your body makes you feel in love because you have been indoctrinated to think that you should, you need to, be in love, because apparently that’s ‘normal’. If you grew up on an island where people just fucked when they wanted to without heartache, pining, or worship of the other person, where people married for convenience, you would not think of love as normal but as some weird form of mental illness. You do not need it, you have merely been taught to think you do.
We’ve established that sex is the ultimate aim of love. Now, in many cases, a by-product of sex is children. It is terrible that something so nice could have such horrifying consequences, just as the side-effect of rearing delicious livestock is ozone depletion through cow farts. Children are awful little tiny freak versions of you that eat you out of house and home and suck dry your lifeforce and creativity with their noise and tantrums. What? You don’t think so? Ah, but you see, there are several parasites in nature that mind-control their hosts into being willing to nurture them at the gradual cost of their own lives. Like zombie ant spores and children.
- Other people.
People are stupid, annoying, illogical, mean, and emotionally incontinent. It is bad enough that you have to put up with yourself for the rest of your life, but must you inflict yourself on another as well, and have them in turn inflicted on you? After you settle down with your beloved, just as soon as the chemical haze clears up, it will occur to you that your object of worship and desire is just as awful as everyone else and you really would have been better off alone. But by then, it is too late. You have been undone by your body again.
- No love like self-love
If you want a relationship that is forever in bloom, build one with your own self. Gift yourself food and flowers. Spend time with yourself doing epic things. Tell yourself you think you are amazing and unique and that you love you. At least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you’re not being lied to. And finally, have sex with yourself. It is safe, there is no performance pleasure, you don’t need to brush your teeth beforehand, there’s no drama afterwards, and there are no unsavoury by-products.
STRAYS BEFORE BAES! This Valentine’s day, instead of dressing up your primal desire to rut in poncy petally poetry, invest in the one love that truly is beautiful: Adopt a stray dog. Scientific fact: Dogs help ward off brain-supplied roofies and avert bad decisions.
Posto is a six-year-old labrador retriever who is raising two humans at his home in Hyderabad. He fights crime in his spare time. Posto’s articles are transcribed by his she-human Amritorupa Kanjilal (Bea). You can follow Bea’s Instagram to get more updates about the duo, from the duo.