Looking at the other side of the word constancy, I'll need to take half a step back; and then I find myself looking at the other side of the word monarchy.
The half step back gives me pain some would tell me to go to a doctor about. But the pain is a memory: the memory of pain someone deliberately caused me.
The kind of pain received it is unlikely any doctor would've offered to help. Perhaps a homeopath might've. They say the natural remedies are the best, but we have our own ideas thereupon.
The pain did go away of its own accord. As to the dull pain I have in recalling myself to the time of it, sitting outside my flatlet, for one thing, writing about it puts motion to it.
What does a carefree bachelor know about constancy?
The conversational subject of monarchy had been tied into its seat; the two-sided coin of the topic had been cemented in forgotten times to structures half forgotten and mostly torn up, so that when children picked up chunks containing coins, they only saw the love birds. A bachelor might be carefree, but a prince can buy himself expensive cars, with which to attract the ladies. A girl must look after her needs. It's all very well to talk about girls who reject materialism wholesale, up until you meet a pair of hobos who chose love above all else.
On the other side of the coin, we were told, were misbehaving kings; and behold! Here was a woman who swore to being a virgin, because that was a requirement that her mother-in-law had created.
Dare a carefree bachelor doubt the veracity of a public statement upon a person's virginity?
I had two great aunts who died spinsters. They didn't talk about virginity: we simply knew they were unwavering Christians. I spent a fair amount of time with one of these sisters of my grandfather. Living near the centre of Johannesburg, she used her feet to get around: we were thus close witnesses to how times changed the place. I know I spent more time with her than many of my relatives.
The last I recall of her, I was the only child still in the nest. I have only the warmest memories of her; and thus I have an example of someone whose first relationship is with God.
This is all very well for someone who hasn't been required to make use of relational theory: when we hear of love being given to us, without us being able to identify the source, we see the end of a pointy arrow. If I'm given no credit for having knowledge of love, the theory itself becomes a matter of jargon; where the use of the theory isn't optional, the details must then be palmed off to other types of beings than those who have mothers who love them.
Clearly a man's relationship with his mother cannot be symmetric.
Clearly a theoretician would refuse to put relationships with people together with relationships with the intangible.
Clearly relationships with people fall into clearly defined categories clearly enumerable by the facts of life.
A theoretician does well to avoid using the word love.
But he cannot tell his mother not to.
As long as I have to tolerate hearing God and Love in the same sentence, my theory has no value.