Why does a woman desire a man? Why does a man desire a 
woman? What is the explanation of that mysterious attraction 
which draws the two sexes toward each other?

Will anyone ever be able to explain it? Will anyone be able to 
exhaust the subject?

One fact is certain: Even aside from the physiological aspect 
of the problem, the effeminate man does not attract a woman; 
she makes fun of him, finds him ridiculous. So too the 
masculine woman weakens her power of attraction for a man, 
and ends by losing it entirely.

The age-old spell which each sex casts upon the other is 
closely allied to the fidelity with which each exactly fulfills 
its role. If woman copies man and man copies woman, there 
can be comradeship but love does not develop. In reality, 
they are nothing more than two caricatures, the woman being 
degraded to the rank of a man and a second-rate man at that, 
and the man to the rank of a manikin in woman's disguise. 
The more feminine a woman's soul and bearing, the more 
pleasing she is to a man; the more masculine a man's soul 
and bearing, the more pleasing he is to a woman.

We do not mean to say that between two poor specimens of 
either sex there will never be any casual or even lasting 
sexual appeal and experience. But we can hardly, if ever, call 
it love. If men and woman are no more than two varieties of 
the same sex, a sort of neuter sex, the force which creates 
love disappears. Normally, as we say in electrical theory, 
opposite charges must exist before any sparks will shoot 
forth. Bring into contact two identical charges and there will 
be no effect; electricity of opposite polarities must be used; 
then and then only will there be reaction.

In the realm of love, the general rule is the same. In fact, man 
and woman are two different worlds. And that is as it should 
be, so that the eternal secret which each of them encloses 
may become the object of the other's desire and stimulate 
thirst for a captivating exploration.

That is love's strange power. It brings two secrets face to 
face, two closed worlds, two mysteries. And just because it 
involves a mystery, it gives rise to limitless fantasies of the 
imagination, to embellishments in advance of the reality. So 
that

    One finally loves all toward which one rows.

Whether that toward which one rows is an enchanted island or 
one merely believes it is, what ecstasy!

Comes the meeting, the consecration of the union by 
marriage; each brings to the other what the other does not 
possess. In the one, delicate modesty and appealing reserve; 
in the other, conquering bravery. A couple has been born. 
Love has accomplished its prodigy.

Yet, how true it is, that having said all this, we have said 
nothing. The reality of love is unfathomable.

Could it be perhaps because it is the most beautiful 
masterpiece of God?
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