As an admirer of the Seinfeld series, I have watched each episode over and over again; I am never bored. Seinfeld’s genius lies in his ability to view human nature and reflect it, with all its silliness and inadequacies, through the use of a marvelous ensemble cast.

Seinfeld manages to weave several mini-themes throughout each main theme, which can best be described as a game of trivial pursuit. But it fascinates us because we all can see ourselves playing out the same ridiculous situations, or perhaps we just like to laugh along—at ourselves.

As I was eating dinner this evening, the television was tuned in on the episode where one of the themes features George Costanza in his constant quest to win “the girl.” This time he has fallen for a young lady who is from Latvia, but because she is of the Latvian Orthodox faith, she doesn’t give him a shake. He decides to do what any man in love would do. Well, possibly what some men would do. He converts. After assuring the Orthodox Latvian church leaders that this is his life-long dream, he goes through the whole process, learns the religion, goes through the ceremony, vows, etc.

While at the church, his friend Kramer appears and espys “Sister Roberta” who is just about to take her vows. One look at Kramer, and she is finished. Forget the church. He explains, “I got the Kavorka, Jerry. I’m dangerous, I’m veerrry dangerous!” So much for Sister Roberta and her religion. She has converted to Kramer.

And after all that George had to go through to convert, his love interest announces over lunch that she is going to travel to Latvia for a year, kisses him on the forehead, and leaves the coffee shop.

He did not have the Kavorka.

The Kavorka is that animal attraction, that spirit, the mojo, the pheromone, the indescribable essence that makes you want to be with someone and not let go. It’s the look that makes you want to jump someone’s bones. The bottom line is: it’s there or it’s not.

There have been several television programs this summer which have dealt with dating.

I was fascinated by one which featured a single male who was going to face the challenge of his love life. From a selection of 50 women, represented by their pictures, he voiced his standards, and bit by bit all were eliminated until one was left. He had reasons for his criteria and as he picked away at the portraits I wondered who the final woman would be. “No tattoos!” he declared, and about 25 women’s photos disappeared from the screen. “A woman who would give up her career to raise a child!” he commanded, and maybe 15 more disappeared. This went on until there was one lone face on the screen. His dream woman. But did she have the Kavorka?

Now things get complicated; this young man’s desires for his perfect Venus were fed into a computer: height, weight, facial features, body structure, personality traits. All to specification.

Enter Venus, stage left. Did she have the Kavorka?

It gets more interesting. He is going to date them both and then make his choice.

Ms. 1/50 is beautiful, personable, a guy’s dream. She does not kiss on the first date. She has made that clear.

Ms. 1/50,000 enters: She is perfection. She is a threat to Ms. 1/50, but Ms. 1/50 had a great first date with our bachelor and she knew she would win.

Then, time for a date with the computer’s pick. The rub: Not only was this young lady singled out from thousands of others in binary code, this was going one step further. The date was going to be scientifically manipulated, so to speak, to generate love. Could this be, manipulated mojo?

The couple was to walk on a beach (producing sweat and pheromones) near the ocean

(nature, romance). But then there is a surprise. They turn and see a plane carrying a sign that said something like “take the plunge.” Turn again; there is a tall crane with a cage suspended from it. The couple was to be hoisted up in that cage, at least eighty feet high, and set to freefall (fear causes an alliance, causes a commonality causes excitement, romance, love). Into the cage they go. Down they come while face to face. He spontaneously wraps his legs around her; they kiss. All the way down. The fear and exhilaration gives them a rush that simulates, what else but love.

They go to lunch. The meal is planned, full of all kinds of nutrients that are supposed to spark passion; witness oysters and asparagus.

The time comes for him to choose. Each of the women present their final case: “You picked me out of 50 women, that should mean something,” said the woman whose face was the last to remain on the screen. “The computer picked me for you out of 50,000 women based on your specifications,” said the computer generated Venus, “I should win.”

And so it goes. And the outcome is this: our bachelor decides that he has made mistakes in the past and that he has been losing at the dating game based on his previous choices. He is now willing to cede to science. He opts for Ms. 1/50,000. The heat, pheromones, fearful free-fall-kiss, and all the other contrivances of love stimulation-simulation by computer, won. She had computer- generated Kavorka.

Life goes on. On the final episode of the TV show Age of Love, thirty year old Mark Philippoussis has to choose between a 26 year old and a 48 year old. He is going to demonstrate that age does not matter.

He notes that one of the things that makes the 48 year old attractive and sexy is her confidence. He feels something for both of the finalists. They both definitely have the Kavorka, but pragmatism rules; he must choose one. It would be reasonable to choose the woman who is still of childbearing age, and he does just that, and probably also because mamma met both ladies and identified with the shy, retiring, unconfident, 26 year old who, parenthetically, is unused goods and still able to bear children.

Now, my son is 20. And he has begun to learn many of love’s lessons. He reminds me of the places I have been on life’s journey. His first love and lust: He fell for a young lady two years older than himself. He was smitten. She had the Kavorka for him. He didn’t have the Kavorka for her. Last year she graduated from college, went to Europe for three months, and “sent” my son a “Dear John” letter over the phone: “I am in Greece having an affair.” Absolved from guilt, she sexually explored her way through her trip. The breakup was official. Tell that to a heart. A heart that has been smitten by Kavorka does not understand. It yearns, moans, cries, tantrums, and sulks. It goes through the stages of grief. It tries to make peace. It tries to be rational and blame failure on age, distance, circumstance…, but the heart knows what it knows and keeps on loving blindly and hopefully. It keeps us alive.

My son has since met a lovely girl, a student at a college that is near his. She is kind, loving, creative, caring, and unusually adept socially. She looks nothing like his “computer spec” Venus. His mindset has been imprinted, so to speak – like a baby duck on its mother – with the girl who has deserted him. To his first love partner. And as nice and kind and wonderful as this new girl is, he is let down. She doesn’t have the Kavorka. He pines, for his first love; well that’s his brain’s chemical reaction. They’ve agreed to “be friends.” Verdict: Sex causes uncontrollable bonds. It steers the heart beyond its control. A battle ensues. It’s hard to say what or who will win.

The new girl has been imprinted as well. On my son. Her heart is now suffering. She wants what she wants; she’s been good and kind and fair. My son is partially responsive and bows to her wishes. But I can see his heart isn’t into it.

What has evolved is a Kavorka imbalance – and a love triangle.

When it comes to matters of the heart, you can seek love in every face you see, on every bus you ride, on the street, in the coffee shop, in every fantasy you have. You hope, “this may be the one.” You may meet someone who approaches your mind’s “computer specs” and you think, “This is it!” But without Kavorka, you are deluding yourself.

Just ask Kramer.