Pygmalion, a gifted young sculptor was a woman-hater. He always seemed to accept dates from the wrong women. Some were rude, others were selfish. It left him feeling very depressed. He eventually came to despise the female gender.
For comfort and solace, he turned to the arts, finding his talent in sculpture. Using exquisite skills, he carved a statue out of ivory that was so resplendent and delicate no maiden could compare with its beauty.
This statue was the perfect resemblance of a living maiden. When nothing could be added to its perfections, a strange fate had befallen its creator: he had fallen in love, deeply, passionately in love, with the thing he had made.