True Love

Love’s vagaries

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Once I had a true love. I worshipped the very ground she walked on. I loved her more than life itself. I bought her small, intricate trinkets. I sent her flowers, orchids her favorite. I wrote poems in her honor, fractured haikus, that condensed my undying love into seventeen syllables. I did all of this and more. But one afternoon when we were sallying in a bar by a lake, she told me that all of that was just not enough. I was crushed. So I immediately went to the market and purchased from Mahmood's emporium a three legged stool, bordered with beaten bronze and inlaid with rubies and topaz. She feigned delight, especially at the exquisite craftsmanship. This is beautiful. But what do I do with it? she said, plaintively. Words failed me. And this does this betoken the depths of your love? I was doubly crushed. That afternoon I visited Anne Luti, the master carpenter, and told him of my plight. He listened patiently, then took me into a back room. In plain view he uncovered an almost new, ornately carved throne with polished silver arms and legs, and burgundy velvet upholstery. He pointed out two or three imperfections in the design so small that only a master craftsman could discern. What woman could refuse this declaration of love, my friend? he stated. Convinced I made arrangements to have it sent to my true love's house. I could not wait to hear her reaction. The next day she sent word that she had received the throne. The messenger waited as I read her note for a third time. While she was touched by the beauty, she waxed for a sentence or two about the craftsmanship. Her palpable concern was twofold. Is this then an expression of your deepest love? Who would see it? And what if there are imperfections? How would I explain those to my inner circle? Is there any reply the messenger required? None, I stammered. She left me to contemplate my newest misfortune. I was triply crushed. Undaunted the next day I arranged to take coffee with Mahmoud and Amluti and told them of my dilemma. They listened patiently, occasionally interrupting my narrative with questions. Then Amluti spoke. I have a plan. Plan she won't be critical of, he said. An hour later all three of us agreed on the details of the plan. I was buoyed both by the plan and the attention to detail. Several nights later the three of us stole into her garden. Patiently we installed a gold plated titanium pedestal with gold filigree steps. When installed each of us attached a silk favor to the ladder. A waxing gibbous moon looked down and blessed our work. The following day she sent word with her messenger, My dearest love, this is perfect, absolutely perfect. No need to visit me anymore, but worship me from afar so I can feel your love. So I did. She finally found true love, and I, with the help of my friends, set myself free from the shackles of Amour Courtois once and for all.