Reasons Why Love Should Die – Elsie Wilcox, 8/3/1901

Republished from our predecessor publication Lucifer the Light Bearer

I do not pretend to solve the whole riddle, but I can give a few reasons that I know have been instrumental in
killing love between married pairs. They will be from a woman’s standpoint, but I want to say to the brothers
that if they will respond to the query, showing why their love dies, I will not shrink from the exposé, and if any
of the remarks hit me I will not be angry but will try to profit by the rebuke. First, then, love is a tender perennial,
fitted to live indefinitely with proper culture. The average man is like some amateur florists who seek diligently
for new and rare specimens, but after the blooming season neglect their plants and permit them to die for want
of care. A man will exert himself in every possible way to win a girl he fancies himself in love with, and will make
himself just as attractive in person and manners as possible, carefully suppressing or concealing every bad habit
or trait of character that would be apt to offend her. If he uses tobacco in any form (and he usually does!), he will
be very careful not to use it in her presence, and to brush his teeth and eat cloves, Sen-Sen, etc., to disguise the
odor when he visits her. He will usually keep himself neat and tidy, wear stylish clothing, and always look fresh
and well-groomed. But how is it after marriage? For a little while he is all devotion, devoted to his new toy, his
rare plant, watching eagerly the unfolding of the flower of love, but satiety soon follows. He grows indifferent! It
is too much trouble to keep his company manners on every day. He forgets the little acts of courtesy, the loving
word or caress. He neglects to brush his teeth after smoking, trusting to the Sen-Sen to kill the odor, and by
degrees he comes to neglect even that, but proffers the kiss of greeting with a breath that would “knock a mule
down.” Women, as a rule, dislike tobacco, and even the few who do not object to the odor of a good cigar when
they smell only the smoke, will find its effect on a man’s breath quite a different thing, and will often turn away in
disgust from the man who is so inconsiderate of their olfactory nerves. They simply cannot help it, and I contend
that it is an insult to a clean, sweet woman to thus offend her refined tastes.

When using this argument I have been answered, “But women sometimes smoke cigarettes.” My reply is, “Pardon
me, but I am speaking of ladies! I know little of the tastes or habits of the class you mention.” As I said before,
tobacco is offensive to nearly all women (and to most men who do not use it themselves), and yet few, if any,
married men will quit using it in order to make themselves sweet and attractive to their wives. The few who do
should be canonized! And so far as I know, their wives fully appreciate the sacrifice and repay it with the tenderest
love. What man would continue to love a woman who made herself repulsive to him with dirt and vile odors?
Suppose a wife contracted the habit of chewing asafoetida, and presented her lips to her husband reeking
with the fetid gum! How often do you suppose he would seek a kiss? And yet, tobacco is equally odious to
many women. This may seem like a small matter, but life is made up of trifles. The judicious watering, airing,
weeding, etc., are each small matters in themselves, but each is necessary to the healthy growth of the plant.
And the little things of life that tend to give pleasure to the loved one are necessary to the life of love. The
shrinking from, or refusal to accept, the tobacco-flavored kiss is the severing of one of the ties that bind the
hearts together, and it is well known that when one strand of a cord is broken a slight strain will often sever
another, and soon the strongest rope gives way. Another “reason”—I have in mind a young couple recently
married. For months before the marriage the gentleman was the most devoted of lovers, lavishing every
attention on the lady, escorting her to theatres, lectures, etc., and buying every pretty present he could prevail
on her to accept. But after the marriage! For two weeks he never offered to take her out at all, not even for
a walk! Then, her sister was going to a party and urged her to go. She timidly suggested to him that she
would like to go, and he refused! And only married two weeks!

It is evident too, that he was resolved to begin as he intended to hold out, for in nearly two months he has
taken her to but one entertainment, although they live in a city, and he has ample means to afford a reasonable
amount of amusement. He also refuses on one pretext or another to take her to visit her girlhood home, only
a few miles distant, and objects to her proposition to let her go for a few days without him. Now, perhaps this
sort of thing will tend to win or keep a woman’s love, but it does not appear so to me. These are a few of the
thousand enemies of love. I could give many more instances, but my letter is too long already, and I will wait
and see if some of the brothers will retaliate by pointing out some of our faults which assist in the deplorable
tragedy—the death of love. “Here I have been your doll-wife; just as at home, I used to be papa’s doll-child.
And my children were, in their turn, my dolls. I used to think it was delightful when you took me to play with,
just as the children were, whenever I took them to play with. That has been our marriage.”