The borrowed euros of love

Every society has its currency. In fact currency is probably the most fundamental frame within which every type of transaction and convention in a society develops.
In a world where one bought potatoes with wheat, keepin’ it real could not have been an issue.┬áLabour, skill, luck and brains surely must have had a chance to shine through one’s produce and the choice of allies. But what is almost unimaginable to my city self is how clear must have been the intentions and general disposition of people to others. Farmers, in my experience, are always pretty honest people, they get what they work for and that is ingrained in every aspect of their life (well ok they did before EU strategies and policies screwed it up completely). They can be stubborn and narrowminded, but will usually put effort into improving things with produce and people. They see a nice strong cow with tight tits or a strong hard-working girl with a nice butt and it’s love at first sight. They pair up, have kids and spend the rest of their lives working and taking care of each other. As boring as it may sound, it’s love like any and similarly to any with or without entertainment or art, the boring comfort of family ties eventually sinks in.
However, as currency and transactions had a certain degree of sophistication and complexity added to them, so did relationships. And up to the point where it all resembled monopoly (the board game), it must have been fun. When you have time and money, you can choose a partner, you can cheat, you can fool around and party like there’s no tomorrow, like the prehistoric, early and modern european upper and middle class people did.
But today everything is taking on a new meaning in the crisis stricken EU and in particular the darkest and lowest part of it, Greece, a small country with one of the most ancient middle classes in the world. Assuming that the hardest thing for a human being is to switch social classes, young boys and girls are possibly experiencing one of the most anti-erotic periods this country has seen. Status, work and money are being devaluated. What or who is causing all this and how to stop it no one is too sure about, so all the protesting taking place consists of violent demonstrations and the occasional strike. It is a point in history when a bunch of people who should have turned either to subsistence farming by now, or to ┬áviolent revolution are still going about their business in the city streets. And as they move and crawl, love still follows. However, it is a hesitant, anorexic love, consolidated by a cheap flight to Europe, giving little and expecting less, living in an emotional cost terror. It’s a poor love, the poor give and take of a generation of sold slaves, who haven’t yet realised their true social context.
Society is bigger, but the Earth is smaller. Human population is increasing but human heterogeneity is decreasing. The inevitable science behind social confusion says stress kills love, makes wills frail, up to a point where one has nothing to loose and is willing to fight. While we still live under the illusion of euros in our pockets, despite being drown in dept, we’ll essentially continue being subsistence farmers without land or skill eluded into believing we are middle class and have jobs.
Like the jobs most of my friends have in the private sector remain unpaid and everyone seems to be living off renting property to someone else and retired relatives, the currency of love is borrowed euros carefully and hesitantly spent. “I can’t make it, I’m a bit tired you see and I’ve got something else I need to do… sorry, shall we talk later?”.
Borrowing what you can’t pay back is a creepy way of life and a lame way to love.

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