To make love. What is it really? Who came up with this phrase so charged with emotions and feelings nestled within the bosom of hearts? How do you make love when love between “man and woman” isn’t’ a chemical agent equipped within the body. Making love sounds desirably good and in epic form conjures the mind to imagine explorative avenues of sacred expression. Arguably its the one thing poetic that explains the apex of physical attraction and pleasure. The grand pupa of desires. But its nonsense to say make love .
There is no such thing but a lazy phrase which glorifies mans need to create from one’s loins.
Maybe “make fun” or “make enjoyment” but love? Sounds poetic indeed. We wonder how other societies refer to it? Or what was it called in the times of mid-evil, times of Hannibal, Cesar or B.C. and A.D? For the non-believer how did Darwin categorize its name? How about Kings and Queens of the many African tribes throughout history?
Making love just sounds incredibly soothing to the ear, affecting caged hormones wanting an excuse to explode. A Forbidden primal escalation.
You know perhaps we’re stretching here but as greeting card rookies, we certainly have the right. Perhaps making love is a cop out because what it is actually is making life and boy doesn’t that sound semi-responsible.
Then again love is illogical. As the adage goes love just is. Time just is but less pleasurable we suppose. Is this true to the status quo? We could argue time presents in it’s grasp the experience and knowledge which in “time” release similar desirable hormones predicated upon ones moments in “time”. Put shortly in agreement with the making love idea, carrying on through life, time offers mental versions of making love.
Food for thought.
Make love memorably and safely.