A Summary of Max Schulman's "Love is a Fallacy"

I was very cool and logical. Very precocious at my age. I cover a huge area of expertise, my calculations are precise, and I'm only eighteen. It is not a custom that someone so young can possess such genuineness. Say, for example, my roommate at the university, Petey Bellows. Same age, same background, but dumb as an ok. A nice enough fellow, you understand, but nothing upstairs. Emotional type. Unstable. Impressionable. Worst of all, a faddist. As for me, fads are futile. To submit yourself to everything that's hype, what's on style and what's in and cool or because everyone else is doing it, is the acme of mindlessness. not however to my roommate, Petey.

One afternoon, I found Petey lying on his bed with an expression of such distress on his face that I immediately diagnosed appendicitis. I told him not to move. Don't take a laxative, I said. I told him that I'll get a doctor. He uttered a with a rather monotonous voice, " raccoon ", he said. I asked, " a raccoon ". He told me he wanted a raccoon coat. I asked why would he want a dumpy old style-raccoon coat. "I should have known it," he cried, pounding his temples. "I should have known they'd come back when the Charleston came back. Like a fool I spent all my money for textbooks, and now I can't get a raccoon coat." Disgusted, I asked him, " you mean that people are actually wearing these weighty coats again? "All the Big Men on Campus are wearing them. Where've you been?". " Don't you want to be in? " I said, " no".



He said that he wants to be in the swim and that he had to get a raccoon coat. He declared that he'll do anything for a raccoon coat. " Anything ", he would repeat thickly. Being precocious that I am, i wanted to dig it in. I just know particularly where I would get Petey's raccoon coat. My father had had one in his undergraduate days; it lay now in a trunk in the attic back home. It also happened that Petey had something I wanted. I refer to his girl, Polly Espy. I have long coveted Polly. She was, to be sure, a girl who excited the emotions, but I was not one to let my heart rule my head. I was well aware of the importance of the right kind of wife in furthering a lawyer's career. The successful lawyers I had observed were, almost without exception, married to beautiful, gracious, intelligent women. With one omission, Polly fitted these specifications perfectly.

Beautiful she was. She was not yet of pin-up proportions, but I felt sure that time would supply the lack. She already had the makings. Gracious she was. By gracious I mean full of graces. She had an ease of bearing, a poise that clearly indicated the best of breeding. At table her manners were exquisite. Intelligent she was not. In fact, she veered in the opposite direction. But I believed that under my guidance she would smarten up. At any rate, it was worth a try. It is, after all, easier to make a beautiful dumb girl smart than to make an ugly smart girl beautiful.

I asked Petey if there's love between him and Polly. He said that they're not steady and both of them had other dates. So, I said, " Can I have Polly in exchange for your raccoon coat? ". At first, Petey was having dilemmas. He was looking deeply at the raccoon coat and at the same time thinking if it's the right thing to give Polly away in exchange for a faddist's crave. Finally, at a long blow, he said that both of them are nothing important to each other. He agreed to have the coat and give his girl to me. We had a deal then. The following evening I had my first date with Polly. I had to make her pass my standards. This was in a nature of a survey. I mean I can't just pick a girl that's so low or below my level or the level I wanted.



I took her first to dinner. "Gee, that was a delish dinner," she said as we left the restaurant. Then I took her to a movie. "Gee, that was a marvy movie," she said as we left the theater. And then I took her home. "Gee, I had a sensaysh time," she said as she bade me goodnight. Back to the room I was so heavily hearted. I knew that I had to so so much work to fill what this girl lacks. I went about it, as in all things, systematically. I gave her a course in logic. It happened that I, as a law student, was taking a course in logic myself, so I had all the facts at my fingertips. "Polly," I said to her when I picked her up on our next date, "tonight we are going over to the Knoll and talk." "Oo, terrif," she replied. One thing I will say for this girl: You would go far to find another so agreeable. We went to the Knoll, the campus trysting place. I told her that we're going to talk about Logic.



"Logic," I said, clearing my throat, "is the science of thinking. Before we can think correctly, we must first learn to recognize the common fallacies of logic. These we will take up tonight." After a tireless and long discussion of logical fallacies like Dicto Simpliciter, Hasty Generalization, Post Hoc, Contradictory Premises, Ad Misericordiam, False Analogy, Hypothesis Contrary to Fact, Poisoning the Well for five grueling but worthy nights, I thought I had made a logician out of Polly. I had taught her to think. My job was done. She was worthy of me at last. She was a fit wife for me, a proper hostess for my many mansions, a suitable mother for my well-heeled children. Finally on our next date, I said to myself that this is the perfect time to make love from academic to romantic.

"My dear," I said, favoring her with a smile, "we have now spent five evenings together. We have gotten along splendidly. It is clear that we are well matched." "Hasty Generalization," said Polly brightly. "I beg your pardon," said I. "Hasty Generalization," she repeated. "How can you say that we are well matched on the basis of only five dates?" I chuckled with amusement. The dear child had learned her lessons well. "My dear," I said, patting her head in a tolerant manner, "five dates is plenty. I decided to change tactics. Obviously the best approach was a simple, strong, direct declaration of love. I paused for a moment while my massive brain chose the proper words. Then I began:

Polly, I love you. You are the whole world to me, and the moon and the stars and the constellations of outer space. Please, my darling, say that you will go steady with me, for if you will not, life will be meaningless. I will languish. I will refuse my meals. I will wander the face of the earth, a shambling, hollow-eyed hulk." There, I thought, folding my arms, that ought to do it. "Ad Misericordiam," said Polly. After sometime of being so romantic to her, the date went like a debate. I thought that my words went back to me. Plus, I've never experienced being speechless in such unrecorded debate. That did it. I leaped to my feet, bellowing like a bull. "Will you or will you not go steady with me?" "I will not," she replied. "Why not?" I demanded."Because this afternoon I promised Petey Bellows that I would go steady with him."

I reeled back, overcome with the infamy of it. After he promised, after he made a deal, after he shook my hand! "That rat!" I shrieked, kicking up great chunks of turf. "You can't go with him, Polly. He's a liar. He's a cheat. He's a rat." "Poisoning the Well," said Polly, "and stop shouting. I think shouting must be a fallacy too." With an immense effort of will, I modulated my voice. "All right," I said. "You're a logician. Let's look at this thing logically. How could you choose Petey Bellows over me? Look at me—a brilliant student, a tremendous intellectual, a man with an assured future. Look at Petey—a knot-head, a jitterbug, a guy who'll never know where his next meal is coming from. Can you give me one logical reason why you should go steady with Petey Bellows?"

"I certainly can," declared Polly. "He's got a racoon coat."