When one of our ancient forebears Little Lucy, died on the banks of an African river, to be preserved in its alluvial mud and discovered aeons later, did anyone mourn her passing? Did some hair-covered male hold her hand, perhaps shed a tear as she took her last breath, or did her group just wander off about their business, leaving her to die alone? Had she been a lover, a wife of one man only, who gave her love and loyalty and received it back in return? Or had she just been a child-bearer to many, a cog in the evolution of man?
Whether Lucy ever knew a committed or loyal love, somewhere along our evolutionary path, it began and entrenched itself in our social behaviour. And with it came every couples eternal dilemma, the question to cheat or not to cheat, to follow our primitive instincts or our higher moral ideals.
