There are myths you read as ancient stories, and then one day you realize they are not about gods at all. They are about you. About what happens between a man and a woman when love collides with immaturity.

Psyche was a mortal princess, so radiant that people stopped praying to Aphrodite and began worshiping her instead. Female beauty, depth, and presence often disturb systems built on control. So Aphrodite, the mother, decided to punish the girl. She sent her son, Eros. He was supposed to make Psyche fall in love with the most unworthy man...  In ancient Greek mythology, Eros was not considered “unworthy” in a literal sense. Yet he embodied a dangerous, ambivalent, and fundamentally immature force.

In the earliest cosmologies, such as those described by Hesiod, Eros is a primordial cosmic force of attraction that binds separate elements together. He is not the sentimental winged god of romance, but the raw impulse of desire that initiates creation itself. As pure energy, he is neither moral nor mature. He is movement, hunger, magnetism. 

Later, in classical mythology, Eros becomes the son of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. Here he appears as a mischievous young god who shoots arrows and robs mortals of reason. He ignites passion but does not take responsibility for its consequences. His arrows can unite, yet they can just as easily destroy.

In the dialogues of Plato, particularly in the “Symposium,” Eros is described as a daimon: an intermediary being between gods and humans. He is neither complete nor self-sufficient. He is always longing, always lacking. Born of Poverty and Resourcefulness, he carries both need and cunning within him. This is not the state of fulfilled love, but the restless striving to fill an inner absence.

It is in this sense that he appears “unworthy” of Psyche at the beginning of the myth. Not because he is evil, but because he represents desire without maturity. He wants, yet he cannot withstand illumination. He feels, yet he does not assume responsibility. He hides himself in the dark.  

So, Eros takes Psyche, but instead, he fell in love with her himself. And this is where the story becomes painfully familiar. Eros carries Psyche away to a hidden place and makes her his lover. He wants closeness. He wants intimacy. He wants her body and her light. But he sets one condition: she must not look at him in the light. She must not truly see him. She must not ask uncomfortable questions. She must not bring clarity. This is love without visibility. Connection without a name. Feeling without responsibility. It is a hidden, doubtful and confusing connection, full of passion that goes nowhere.  Instead of grounded emotional presence, he offers beautiful encounters, intensity, a sense of being chosen. It can feel intoxicating. Transformational, even. But she is not allowed to look deeply. She is not allowed to turn on the light. Why? Because immature masculinity can appear confident while remaining fragile underneath. It fears exposure. It fears being seen without a mask. It fears that if a woman directs light toward it, she will discover not a man, but a boy. 

Sooner or later, a conscious woman stops playing this game. She no longer wants magic in the dark... she wants presence in reality, she wants embodiment. And one day, Psyche turns the light toward Eros’ face.... As often happens, he disappears... He simply is gone... poof... all these sand castles are gone like that summer wind... Escape instead of dialogue... 

But the myth does not end there. As in many real stories, the mother appears. Ah! Aphrodite. herself! The epitome of Beauty and Entitlement to be the one who knows her son better than any other woman! The force before whom Eros is powerless. The influence he cannot confront. An immature man often remains entangled in the maternal system: through loyalty, fear, obligation, unconscious dependence.

Aphrodite forces Psyche to undergo impossible trials. Eros does not intervene, however, he sits next to his mother, watching her humiliating the love of his life, but does NOTHING. He loves Psyche, but he cannot protect her... He feels, but he does not act... 

And so the woman stands alone. In this pattern, the woman must fight for love and for herself without support. Psyche is given four trials. 

To organize this "chaos" — to sort what no one else would structure, find any meaning and create some form out of it. 
To survive danger — to endure that system of morality and judgement ready to blame her.
To face the fear of death — to confront the collapse of all her dreams and illusions regarding Eros. 
To choose herself — to stop rescuing the man and replacing his mother.
And to surrender — not to the system of crime and punishment, but to her own maturity... Let him go, let him be where he is... 

The hardest part is to stop being the savior. To stop believing that love alone can raise a boy into a man. And this is where the paradox unfolds. When Psyche chooses herself and lets go, when she walks fully through the pain, when she stops asking, something shifts. Eros is shaken by her suffering. For the first time, he feels loss. For the first time, he experiences consequence. In the myth, he separates from his mother. He helps Psyche become immortal. He takes her as his wife. The myth suggests that what awakens a man is the wild pain of the woman he truly loves. Not her patience. Not her sacrifice. Not her waiting. But her real maturation. 

While Psyche remains naïve, she wants a palace, guarantees, experiences. But when she grows through trials and heartbreak and chooses herself, one of two things happens: either a man awakens beside her… or there is simply emptiness. And then it becomes clear. This story is not about defeating a rival. It is not about fighting the "mother". It is not about proving worth. It is about boundaries. About maturity. About the ability to withstand the light. 

The myth reveals an evolution: the transformation of desire into conscious love. As long as Eros remains pure passion, he is not ready for an open union. Only after loss, pain, and separation from the maternal influence does he shift. He ceases to be merely the arrow of longing and becomes capable of marriage.

So the question is not whether he was “unworthy” by status. He was structurally immature. And the entire myth is not about morality, but about the maturation of desire into responsibility, and of impulse into conscious love.

Sometimes a man becomes a man.
Sometimes he remains his mother’s son.

The woman, however, becomes an adult either way.