Occasionally, even he asked Aphrodite for help, and it wasn’t for anything beautiful or loving.
You remember back in the early days of mortals, the Titan Prometheus gave men fire? Well, even after Zeus punished Prometheus by chaining him to the rocks and giving him a liver-eating eagle for company, the lord of the sky was still angry.
He looked around for other people to punish. Then he decided: “You know what? I’ll just punish everyone. All mortals will suffer for accepting the gift of fire. And I’ll find some sneaky way to do it, so they won’t blame me for their problems. I’ll fix it so that they blame Prometheus’s family….That’ll make my revenge even sweeter!”
Turns out Prometheus had a younger brother, Epimetheus, who wasn’t exactly the sharpest crayon in the box.
Right before Zeus carted Prometheus off to Torture-ville, Prometheus had warned his brother, “Epimetheus, stay frosty. Zeus will probably try to punish you just because you’re related to me. Don’t accept any gifts from the gods!”
“Frosties?” Epimetheus said. “I like frosties.”
“You’re hopeless,” his brother grumbled. “Just be careful! I gotta go. I got this thing with a rock and an eagle….”
Zeus decided to send Epimetheus a booby-trapped present. If he could trick Epimetheus into opening the present, a bunch of evil spirits would escape and cause all kinds of trouble for mortals. The mortals would seek answers from the Oracle, like they always did. The Oracle would say, “Oh, it’s all Epimetheus’s fault.” And Zeus would have a good laugh.
The problem was, Zeus couldn’t get Epimetheus to accept any gifts. Epimetheus remembered his brother’s warning and refused to take packages from strangers or gods. Zeus sent Hermes to Epimetheus’s house with a Candygram. No luck. Hephaestus dressed up as a cable guy and offered Epimetheus a free HDTV box with all the premium sports channels. Epimetheus turned him away.
Zeus became so exasperated he complained to the other gods. “This guy, Epimetheus. I just want him to take a stupid present, open it, and unleash misery and death on the human race! Is that too much to ask? But he’s so stubborn! Any ideas?”
The gods shifted uncomfortably on their thrones.
Finally Aphrodite said, “Lord Zeus, perhaps you should try a different approach…something no man can refuse.”
“I already tried free cable!” Zeus said. “With the premium sports channels!”
“No, my lord.” Aphrodite batted her eyelashes. “I mean love. Perhaps Epimetheus needs a wife. If you could place a wife in his household, she could accept the gift you wish to send. If it’s all handled correctly—”
“I love this idea!” Actually Zeus hadn’t heard a word she’d said. He was too busy staring at her and thinking, Wow, she’s pretty. But all the other gods were nodding, so Zeus figured her plan must be good.
At Aphrodite’s direction, the gods created the perfect woman from scratch. Hephaestus provided the clay and the technical know-how to build her body. Athena gifted her with cleverness and curiosity. Most importantly, Aphrodite instilled her with beauty and charm to make her irresistible.
They named her Pandora, which loosely translates as all the gifts, or the whole package. Some stories say Pandora was the first woman ever, and that before she came along, all humans were male. I don’t know. That sounds kind of lame and boring to me. At any rate, she was a perfect “10.” Aphrodite made sure of that. Pandora would be the gods’ ultimate weapon for making mischief.
The gods led Pandora to Epimetheus’s front porch, rang the doorbell, and ran away giggling. When Epimetheus opened the door, he saw this beautiful woman smiling at him.
“Hi, I’m Pandora, and I love you,” said Pandora. “Can I come in?”
“Yes,” said Epimetheus.
He totally forgot about Prometheus’s warning. No way could this gorgeous lady be part of some trick!
Epimetheus and Pandora got engaged faster than you can say “Vegas wedding.”
The gods weren’t invited to the ceremony, but Aphrodite dropped off a gift. Because it was addressed to Pandora, Epimetheus couldn’t refuse it.
It was a large ceramic pithos, a big storage jar, with a cork in the top and a large white silk bow tied around the handle.
“Oh, honey, look!” Pandora said. “It’s perfect for holding our olive oil!”
Epimetheus grunted, still suspicious. “I wouldn’t open it.”
“Your husband is right.” Aphrodite nodded earnestly. “No, Pandora…the jar is just for looking at. Never open it. You wouldn’t want to know what’s inside.”
After Aphrodite left, Pandora burned with curiosity. It wasn’t her fault—she was created to be curious. All she could think about was opening that jar.
Pandora managed to hold out for several days, but one morning, when her husband was out in the garden, she sat in front of the jar and stared at it, trying to imagine what was inside. Why would the gods send her a present and then tell her never to open it? That was just wrong!
“I have to see what’s inside,” she muttered. “Oh, this is going to be awesome!”
She pulled the cork.
It was not awesome.
Zeus had packed that jar with a gazillion evil spirits. They spewed out and spread across the world, bringing misery, sickness, athlete’s foot, famine, bad breath, and death to the human race. Suddenly being a human was a thousand times worse than it was before, and it had never been easy. Humans probably would’ve all killed themselves from despair—running off cliffs like crazy Athenian princesses—but one good spirit remained in the jar, maybe because Zeus had some sense of shame. Elpis, the spirit of hope, stayed with humans so they wouldn’t give up completely. They could always believe that things might get better.
If you’ve ever wondered why humans suffer so much, it’s because of that stupid jar. At which point we’re supposed to say, “Way to go, Pandora! Thanks a lot!”
Back in the old days, the writers (who were all guys) would say, “See? This story shows you that women are troublemakers! It’s all their fault!”
Epimetheus and Pandora. Adam and Eve. That blame game has been going on for a long time.
But I’m not sure why we’re criticizing Pandora for being nosy, or not following orders, or whatever. She was made to open that jar…by the gods.
My real question: what was Aphrodite thinking? If she knew this whole Pandora thing would give women a bad rep for eternity, why did she go along with it? Me, I think she just didn’t care about the consequences. She wanted to make Pandora beautiful. She wanted to prove that love could succeed where the other gods had failed—even if it caused a global disaster.
Way to go, Aphrodite. Thanks a lot!
To be fair, her creations didn’t always turn out so bad.
Once Aphrodite took pity on this sculptor named Pygmalion, who lived on Cyprus, her favorite island. This dude wasn’t interested in the local women, because they all seemed crude and rude to him. They’d go out with anybody who had money and a nice chariot. They didn’t believe in true love. In fact, a lot of them didn’t believe Aphrodite existed, and that made Pygmalion angry. He was proud of his “hometown” goddess, even though he hadn’t found his one true pairing (OTP) yet. He definitely believed there was someone perfect out there for everyone.
In his spare time, Pygmalion carved a life-size ivory statue of Aphrodite—because she was his ideal of what a woman should be.
He made the statue so beautiful that it brought tears to his eyes. As far as Pygmalion was concerned, all other women looked ugly by comparison.
Oh, why can’t I find a woman like this! he thought to himself. She would be kind and gentle and loving and wonderful, just like Aphrodite!
I guess he didn’t know Aphrodite’s true personality very well.
When the local Feast of Aphrodite rolled around, Pygmalion went to the goddess’s temple and o
ffered a big sacrifice of roses and pearls (and probably some lettuce).
He was too ashamed to admit his real wish: he wanted to marry his ivory girl. But he knew that was stupid. You can’t marry a statue! Instead, he prayed, “Oh, Aphrodite, let me find a woman as wonderful as you, as beautiful as the ivory statue in my workshop!”
Up on Mount Olympus, Aphrodite heard his prayer. She heaved a big sigh. “Oh, that is so cute!”
When Pygmalion got home, he stared at his ivory statue for a long time. Gradually, he developed an uncontrollable urge to kiss her.
“That’s foolish,” he chided himself. “It’s just a statue.”
But he couldn’t help it. He made sure no one was looking, then stepped up to the ivory girl and planted a big kiss right on her mouth.
To his surprise, her lips were warm. He kissed her again, and when he stepped back, his ivory girl was no longer ivory. She was a living, breathing woman so beautiful, it made Pygmalion’s heart ache.
“I love you!” she said.
After Pygmalion came back to consciousness, he proposed to his perfect woman. They got married, had a few kids, and lived happily ever after.
The weird thing, though? The stories don’t even tell us what the ivory girl’s name was. Probably Aphrodite would say, “Oh, that doesn’t matter! She looked like me. That’s all you need to know!”
Riiiiiight.
So Aphrodite was one of those can’t-live-with-them, can’t-live-without-them Olympians. She helped the gods and mortals from time to time, but she also caused a ton of trouble.
At one point, Zeus got fed up with her meddling. He blamed her for all the affairs he’d had with mortal women, which was much easier than blaming himself.
He sat on his throne, grumbling to himself, “Stupid love goddess, getting me into trouble with my wife again! Aphrodite is always making other people fall in love when it’s not convenient. I should make her fall in love with a lowly mortal and see how she likes it.”
That idea made Zeus feel much better. He put a spell on Aphrodite. I don’t know how. Maybe he dropped something in her nectar, or he tried shock therapy with his lightning. Whatever the case, he caused Aphrodite to fall head-over-heels for a mortal named Anchises.
Anchises was handsome, but he was only a shepherd, so Aphrodite was way out of his league. Nevertheless, Aphrodite looked down from Olympus one day, saw this guy lounging in the grass, just chilling and watching his sheep, and the goddess was completely love-struck.
“Oh, holy me!” she cried. “Shepherds are so hot! Why haven’t I noticed before? I have to get together with that shepherd, like, right now.”
She thought about using her son Eros as her messenger. Maybe he could take Anchises a note that read: DO YOU LIKE APHRODITE? ___YES ___NO
But she decided against it. Anchises might be too afraid to date a love goddess. Even worse, if she appeared to him in her true form, she might scare him away, or accidentally kill him. His poor heart might give out, or he’d burst into flames. That would ruin their first date.
She decided to disguise herself as a mortal maiden.
She took a nice hot bath, put on a silky dress, and sprayed herself with flowery perfume. She flew down to the earth and walked up to Anchises like La-dee-da, just happen to be walking through a sheep pasture in my best outfit.
Anchises’s eyes bugged out when he saw her. “Wow. You must be a goddess. Who are you—Athena? Artemis? Maybe even Aphrodite?”
The goddess blushed. She was pleased to be recognized, but she didn’t dare admit who she was. “No, silly. I’m just an incredibly beautiful mortal maiden. I happened to be walking along and…oh, wow! Are you Anchises? I’ve heard all about you!”
Anchises blinked. “You have?”
“Totally! I’m a big fan. We should get married!”
Anchises should’ve figured something was up. He didn’t normally have amazing girls walk up to him and propose. But he was lonely, and his folks were always nagging him to get married. Imagine what they would think if he brought this lady home!
“Okay, sure!” he said. “I’ll introduce you to my parents. They live just over there.”
One thing led to another. Anchises married the mysterious mortal lady, and they had a wonderful honeymoon.
Then one morning Aphrodite woke up, and Zeus’s love spell had broken. She realized what she’d done and felt incredibly embarrassed. She wasn’t supposed to get suckered into marrying lowly mortals! That was what she did to other gods!
She dressed herself hastily, but Anchises woke while she was lacing her sandals. He noticed that his new bride was glowing.
“Uh…honey?” he asked. “Are you sure you’re not a goddess?”
“Oh, Anchises!” Aphrodite cried. “I’m so sorry! I must’ve been bewitched. Otherwise I never would have fallen in love with someone like you.”
“Gee…thanks.”
“It’s not you. It’s me! I can’t marry a mortal. Surely you understand. But don’t worry. When our child is born—”
“Our child?”
“Oh, yes,” the goddess said. “I’m extremely fertile. I’m sure I’m pregnant. At any rate, the baby will be a boy. I’ll raise him until he’s five, then I’ll bring him to you. He’ll become a great prince among your people and make you very proud. Just promise me you’ll never tell anyone the true identity of his mother!”
Anchises promised. He was a little bummed about being dumped and divorced, but he kept Aphrodite’s secret. Five years later, his son arrived from Olympus. His name was Aeneas, and he did in fact become a great prince of the city of Troy. Later on, after Troy fell, Aeneas sailed to Italy and became the first leader of a new people. They called themselves the Romans.
As for Anchises, one day when he was older and not so careful, he was partying with his buddies and let it slip that Aeneas’s mom was actually Aphrodite.
Word got around. The goddess of love was mortified. She complained to Zeus, “This is all your fault to begin with!”
To make things right, Zeus whipped out a lightning bolt and blasted Anchises into ashes for breaking his promise.
Another happy ending!
Think Aphrodite swore off mortal men after that?
If you guessed no, you’re learning.
Here’s one last story about her, which shows how Aphrodite’s own curses could come back to bite her.
There was this Greek princess named Smyrna who refused to worship Aphrodite, and the goddess got so mad, she cursed Smyrna by…you know what? It’s too horrible and disgusting. I can’t go into it.
Let’s just say Smyrna got pregnant, and it was a bad, bad situation. So bad that when her father the king found out, he ended up chasing her through the woods with a sword and screaming, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
Smyrna cried out to the gods, “Please! It’s not my fault! Save me! Turn me invisible!”
The gods didn’t do that, but they did turn her into a myrrh tree. I’m sure Smyrna was really grateful.
Nine months later, the tree split open, and a little baby boy tumbled out. When Aphrodite heard the kid wailing in the woods, she felt a little guilty. She went down and picked him up. He was so cute, she decided to keep him and raise him in secret.
Why in secret? Aphrodite was the jealous type. The kid was adorable. The goddess didn’t want to share his affections with anyone else. But since babies are a lot of work, and Aphrodite had a busy social schedule, she quickly realized she couldn’t keep the baby all the time.
She decided she had to trust somebody to be a babysitter. She picked Persephone, goddess of the Underworld. That might seem like a weird choice, but Persephone lived down in Erebos, so nobody on Olympus ever had to know about the baby. Persephone was pretty lonely. She was glad to have a cute baby to cheer her up. And Aphrodite figured Persephone was no threat—I mean, please! Have you
seen her hair? Her outfit? Aphrodite had nothing to be jealous about.
She named the baby Adonis and kept him in a box, which served as his incubation chamber. (Another story about a baby in a box. I’m not sure what that’s about, but again, do NOT try growing babies in boxes at home. It doesn’t work.) The two goddesses shared custody, shuffling the kid back and forth between Aphrodite’s secret lair on Cyprus and Persephone’s palace in the Underworld; so as Adonis grew up, he was always forgetting where he left his homework and which house his soccer shoes were at.
Eventually he grew into a handsome young man.
No, that’s an understatement. Adonis grew into the most handsome dude who ever lived. What did he look like exactly? I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to other dudes, sorry. Just imagine the coolest, most stylish, most awesome A-list celebrity you can imagine. Adonis was hotter than that.
At some point—like simultaneously—Persephone and Aphrodite both realized Adonis wasn’t a kid anymore. He was a potential boyfriend. That’s when the fighting began.
“He’s mine,” Persephone said. “I raised him most of the time.”
“No way!” Aphrodite said. “I found him in that tree! Besides, he obviously likes me better. Don’t you, sweetcakes?”
Adonis gulped. “Uh…”
There was no right answer. I mean, who would you choose? Aphrodite was the most beautiful goddess in the world, but, well…she was Aphrodite. Everybody wanted to be with her, and if you were her boyfriend, every other guy in the world would hate you. Also, Aphrodite wasn’t known for her faithfulness.
Persephone was beautiful in her own way, especially in the springtime, when she was allowed to roam the upper world; but her years in the Underworld had made her cold and pale and a little scary. She rarely fell in love with mortals. She definitely loved Adonis, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be her boyfriend if it meant staying in the dark palace of Erebos, surrounded by ghosts and zombie butlers. Adonis was also pretty sure Hades wouldn’t like that arrangement.