I thought my attraction to the Inspector Morse/ Lewis TV series was due to my innate love of good mystery stories and awe of well-done British programs.  Turns out it was the sex — the sexual appeal of the three detectives who star in the series: Morse, in his 50’s to 60; Lewis, from 40’s to 50’s and Hathaway in his 30’s. No, it’s not X rated, or even R. And none of them ever takes off their clothes, which is probably a good thing. As smitten as I am, I’m quite sure these guys would not make it onto a hunks calendar or a People Magazine listing of most sexy men. In the course of fifty or so episodes ranging over maybe 15 years, only three or four times is there a suggestion that desire is consummated.  It’s just not like that.

There’s plenty of adultery in the show.  It’s a common theme in mysteries, but for modern British drama, almost a requirement.  It’s what they do for fun. All of the upper class, God knows. And much of the intelligentsia, since the show takes place in Oxford. A viewer might conclude that not cheating shows a lack of initiative, or that what the English look for in marriage is not life-long devotion and loyalty. A bit European that way, while we Americans are stuck on “happily ever after”. In any case, it’s not these guys who are cheating.  Morse is a life-long bachelor, Lewis is happily married until his wife dies in a car accident, and Hathaway contemplated the priesthood before becoming a cop, and wavers a bit over his sexual orientation early on. 

But, were I not married, and they were real, not characters, I could fall for any one of the three.  They couldn’t be more different: Morse, a bit arrogant and snobbish in a city of snobs; he loves operas and crosswords, and to drink.  Lewis, up from the working class of Northern England with his Geordie accent —  not so refined, but cheerful and easygoing, until his wife’s death makes him sharper and darker.  Hathaway, tall, thin, and blonde with his drawn, horselike face, “an awkward sod” as Lewis describes him, gifted but shy.  To me, all three are romantic in the sense that they yearn for closeness with a mate, and yet remain skeptical that they are able or worthy.  It’s the way they relate to women, always respectful and trying to understand their point of view – part of the job. Working around death on an everyday basis gives them a depth others don’t have.   And because they rely on each other at work in solving problems and in seeking justice, they know the importance of human relationships, which not all men learn easily.

Largely, it’s their voices, I think, but not simply the accents.  And their foibles and eccentricities, that the English do so well, without having to make it comic, a la “Monk.” It’s their imperfections and their suffering, not their super-powers and straight, white teeth. And the histories they carry with them. In one of the most affecting scenes, Hathaway goes to dinner with a childhood friend, Scarlett, on the eve of her marriage to a rich fellow to save the family fortune. They share a line from A.E. Houseman about the “land of lost content” — their shared childhood, when he once walked her down the aisle while playmates cast petals.  It’s all the old affections, regrets, and innocence lost, along with wine and loneliness that pull them together.  All those levels of caring and meaning, not simply “what a catch.”

Real attraction, I think, works that way. It’s hardly ever about beauty and merit – but more about the cracked pot and the broken lid that come together to make a whole, even if temporarily.  No question that people are attracted to men and women of status — or think they are. Also, that desire is motivated by how they think others will view their esteemed object – what we used to call in literature, “mediated desire”. That is, Sam wants Pam because she is valued by Tom, for whatever reason. But this I believe, in private, desire is much simpler and more to do with being seen, heard, and felt, than with seeing or possessing.  That’s why passion flares in unlikely places and between unlikely people, depending on the circumstances. And that fat doesn’t matter, or blind, or poor, especially to the young and open-hearted. Sure, we are animals and respond to someone who looks fit and strong, but that’s hardly ever enough to touch our hearts. 

Maybe I’m fooling myself, and these are just myths I like to believe. But I’ve been around the block a few times, and I’ve seen a few things. I still think that, in a given situation, that a certain look, a certain signal, and most guys are good to go – with someone who likes them, who smiles nicely at them. Alright, maybe that’s the old days, and not so true anymore.  Haven’t tested that theory in a while. What I do know is that if there’s drinking and flirting, there’s danger, and so I keep a distance since I want to preserve my marriage. There’s desire that burns, when it’s one-sided, or the timing is not right. But there’s desire that’s sweet, with the most human of men – like those on Morse.