But for the Romans, for example, sex was an urgent appetite, not a way of achieving a higher state of consciousness. They saw nothing wrong with sexual passion, but neither was it considered the key to human fulfilment. Only with Christianity did sex begin to acquire demonic power and mystical sanctity. St Augustine believed his sexual desires stood in the way of his love for God, and prayed for chastity, though "not yet". The Christian idea of love as a sacramental union between two souls is the ultimate source of our secular belief in romantic love and our confusion today.
Many cultures have celebrated the art of sex — we need only think of the erotic murals of Pompeii and ancient India. But romantic love — the belief that sexual attraction can be the opening to a lifelong bond between two unique individuals that secures happiness for both — is something quite different. Such a sense of sanctified fulfilment is found nowhere except in the late modern West. Something similar to romantic love may have developed by early modern times, but — as in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet — it was seen as the path to disaster. Even as late as Jane Austen, it was social compatibility as much as mutual attraction that was seen as producing happiness in marriage.
We owe the idea of individual fulfilment through love with one person to the Romantic movement. With its belief in the supreme value of personality, Romanticism could probably only ever have arisen in a culture shaped by Christianity, but in which Christian belief was waning, as it was in late-18th- and early-19th-century Europe, when Romanticism first emerged. The Romantic artists believed that emotions were a better guide to living well than reason. Our aim in life should be to experience the most intense feelings, and none was thought to be more intense than love.
But we're not as unique as we imagine. We all have the same inheritance of animal instinct and our differences come from the accidents of our lives, not from anything essential about us. The conceit of our uniqueness is a relic of the Christian belief in the soul. Buddhism and Hinduism see personal identity as an illusion. Yet that sense of uniqueness continues to drive our culture and lives, and we cannot do without the idea that each of us has a soul mate. In a curious twist, the Christian-Romantic ideal of personal relations has turned out to be the perfect vehicle for consumer culture — entire service industries catering for the grooming, searching for and advice needed to find the perfect partner. Such partnership may suggest irrevocable commitment —but certainly "not yet". While each relationship may be all-consuming, none is final. When one partner ceases to satisfy, you can always look for another.
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Right-wing moralists may deplore this shift, but it goes with the consumer economy. Our shopping malls are theatres of unfettered choice and incessant novelty, designed to stave off boredom and keep us spending, and personal life has followed the same trajectory. Big Brother is easily mocked, yet reality TV provides a snapshot of the life that many want: a steady stream of low-level excitement and throwaway relationships. Genuine intimacy is rare, and requires hard work. But the endless pursuit of the ideal partner promises excitement and the teasing mirage of sudden personal transformation.
The new relationships are remarkable chiefly for their sameness. Yet the romantic ideal is as seductive as ever. Philosophers have taught that the best life is lived on a basis of truth, but life would hardly be worth living if we lost the ability to generate new illusions. Luckily, there is no prospect of that.
John Gray is professor of European thought at the London School of Economics, and the author of Straw Dogs: Thoughts on Humans and Other Animals (Granta)