With another Valentine’s Day just around the corner, I find myself recalling a long-ago conversation I had with a friend of mine (I’ll call her Annie) about the greatest lover of all time, Don Juan. She was taking an English literature class two nights a week at California State University, Sacramento, and our little chat started out innocently enough with her asking me if I happened to know anything about the great Romantic Poets.
“Which ones?” I asked her.
“Lord Byron, mostly,” said Annie.
“Not really,” I admitted.
“Well,” she said, obviously unimpressed with my lack of knowledge of long-dead poets, “I have to write this big paper on Don Juanism, which I’ve almost finished, but my professor wants me to include something about how the Romantic Poets viewed him, especially Lord Byron.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, and I just hate reading Byron.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because he always makes his main character into one of those bigger than life Byronic heroes of his. You know, moody, passionate, mysterious, and with a self-generated moral code that stands totally outside all the ordinary and long-accepted criteria of right and wrong.”
“What’s so bad about that?” I asked like a fool.
“Everything!” she said with conviction. “And especially if we’re talking about a totally pathetic excuse for a human being like Don Juan.”
As we talked on, Annie openly wondered why a legendary hero like Don Juan, who reportedly spent the majority of his adult life trying to love, possess, conquer, and consume just about every woman he encountered, could have possibly inspired so many great writers, poets, and musicians, among them such giants as Milton, Dumas, Mozart and, of course, Lord Byron.
“But aren’t you being a little rough on the poor old guy?” I finally suggested. “I mean, I think there’s a lot to be learned from reflecting on the life and times of Don Juan.”
“Like what?” Annie asked in disbelief.
“Oh, I don’t know, like what it was like to be a nobleman living in Seville back in the 1300s for beginners,” I cautiously suggested.
“What else?” she quickly demanded.
“Well,” I said with hesitation, “who knows, with all those experiences he had with women, maybe he actually ended up knowing a little something about what love is, and what it isn’t.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” said Annie, even more surprised at me than she had been a few moments earlier. “Now what in the world could Don Juan possibly know about real love? If you’ll remember, he was nothing but a legendary womanizer.”
“But I don’t really think Don Juan went from woman to woman because of any particular inability on his part to love,” I bravely theorized. “In fact, I wouldn’t be too surprised if there were a number of other factors involved. You know, extenuating circumstances.”
“Name one.”
“Well, to begin with, maybe he was just never lucky enough to bump into the right woman.”
“But Daryl, the man bumped into just about every woman in Spain!”
“Well,” I said, quickly searching for a more believable explanation, “then maybe he just thought it wasn’t essential to love rarely in order to love well?”
“Just why is it,” said Annie, looking like she was about ready to scream, “that you men are so clueless when it comes to understanding the very simple concept of fidelity? You know, one man, one woman! And not only that, when you guys are out there doing all your womanizing, it’s usually with much younger women. The whole thing is so disgusting!”
“It’s God’s fault,” I blurted out.
“God’s fault? Now what does God have to do with it?”
“Well,” I tried to explain, “you see, God wanted to make good and sure that the human race continued on forever, so He gave men all this testosterone that is always pounding through our veins which makes us constantly seek out the healthiest and most fertile members of the opposite sex, which of course usually means that they are also young and attractive. That way the best genes are always passed on to the next generation. So, you see, what you may think of as womanizing is in reality men just trying to accomplish what they were put on earth to do – improve the human species.”
“You really believe that?” demanded Annie.
“Well,” I said almost apologetically, “it’s my story, and on behalf of men everywhere, I’m sticking to it.”
“You know,” said Annie as she slowly shook her head from side to side and looked at me with genuine pity in her eyes, “now that kind of ridiculous reasoning is just so typical of all you men. And, oh, by the way, it is also the main reason why God ends up throwing so many of you into the bowels of hell!”