Goddess of the Week: Inanna

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L is for the way you look at me (unless there is a football game on).

O is for the only one I see (you looking at that waitress's cleavage).

V is very, very, extraordinarily pissed off that you crashed my car.

E is even more than anyone that you adore (is that stupid Ford truck of yours).

When Mr. Right turns out to be Mr. Wrong, you need a goddess who teaches smart love. Not dumb love. Not slick-talking love. Not cute-ass love. Not can-I-borrow-some-money love. No. Smart love. Respect-me love. Tell-the-truth love. Look-at-my-eyes-not-my-chest-when-I'm-talking love. Put-away-your-own-damn-dishes love.

The smart love goddess is Inanna. This Sumerian goddess was no dim-witted beauty rising from a clam shell. She was smart enough to teach her father, the god Enki, to give her his 100 objects of culture, which meant he gave her supreme authority over civilization itself, including the gifts of agriculture, weaving, written language, and well, prostitution -- but that's a different story.

Inanna was married to Dumuzi, the shepherd king and the mythological first ruler of Sumar, but when he treated her like dirt, she sent him packing, and how! Here's what happened. Iannna went to visit her sister Ereskigal, queen of the underworld. Unfortuntely, there was a little sibling rivalry over the whole 100 pieces of culture thing, so Ereskigal killed Inanna. Being Inanna, however, that wasn't really a big deal. She came back to life and made her way home. There was just one problem. The accounting is very strict in the underworld. Inanna could leave, but someone had to take her place.

She thought, "Hmmmmm, my sister is such a bitch. Who am I going to get to replace me?" This was no easy question. Think of all the people you might send to hell in your place. The list went on and on and on.

Anyway, Inanna gets home. She goes to find her cutie-sweetie-lovebug Dumuzi, who she knew must be almost suicidal with grief.

Where does find him? On her throne, living it up, a martini in one hand and a belly dancer in the other. The dirtbag.

But it did solve the problem of who to send to the underworld. With a snap of her fingers, Dumuzi was like a bad stain you soak in bleach. Gone.

As for Inanna, she looked through her bag of culture and found a little thing called Goddess Happy Hour. It's where all the goddesses get together, drink mead and complain about the stupid men in their lives. Very therapeutic.

Channel this goddess: if your princes turn out to be frogs, if your frogs turns out to be dung beetles, if your dung beetles turn out to be Jon Gosselin or Mark Sanford.

Anne: This goddess is for you. Use her well.

Need a goddess? That's why I'm here! Tell me what you'd like and I'll see what I can do.