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Sunday, November 23, 2008
A Fine Romance
If you haven't read the notes on my last musical Sunday post please do so now. This is a continuing sloppy saga of fatally flawed infatuation.
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The fatal flaw in romance is that manipulation is always going on between a certain kind of man and a certain kind of woman. And a woman's history, her long past history will make a certain kind of man attractive to her. I don't know if it works the same way for men, but I suspect it does. Crazy women tend to attract the kind of man who likes crazy women. I am too "edgy" for most men. I speak my mind, and am opinionated. I do not suffer fools or bores easily. Men who have no opinion about politics, or who are unwilling to take me seriously as an intellect equal to themselves, though they might be better educated than I, make me a bit aggressive and slightly hostile. Men who aren't as smart as I but who think that having testicles makes them innately superior to me, make me cross and disagreeable. I quickly shit-can them. At least I did when I still had romances. My days of a fine romance are behind me, and good riddance to them. But I can write about with a bit of authority.
Men who can't or won't dance are sad creatures. Men who don't read are so odd to me that I can't imagine that I could ever be attracted to such a man. Men who don't flirt are something of a relief. It's why Nick and I have such a lovely friendship. He never flirts with me.
No wonder we get along so well. Every damn word you wrote is pure truth.
You know what I hate? Men who stare at my tits while I'm talking to them, which generates the following response: "My face is up here." Big breasts also make men think a woman's stupid.
Men
They hail you as their morning star
Because you are the way you are.
If you return the sentiment,
They'll try to make you different;
And once they have you, safe and sound,
They want to change you all around.
Your moods and ways they put a curse on;
They'd make of you another person.
They cannot let you go your gait;
They influence and educate.
They'd alter all that they admired.
They make me sick, they make me tired.
Dorothy Parker
fatally flawed infatuation.
all infatuation, in my mind, is inherently fatally flawed because it is based on some image or fantasy of another person that in all likelihood is entirely wrong. put another way, i think infatuation is just another form of projection.
so, in a sense, it is safer that the subject of one's infatuation actually live in "another country" or be for the most part physically unattainable. that's the only way an infatuation can actually "work."
sorry. i don't mean to sound like a downer. it's just the way i see it and have experienced it.
it's been a life-long struggle to train myself to look at people for who they actually are, not who i want them to be.
Anita, you are exactly right, all infatuation is projection. That's why, if infatuation is what you need for a moment, it's a good thing that the one I happen to be momentarily infatuated with has a mate and lives in another country and a country I have no desire to visit. Whew. Lucky break for me. And I tend to get over my infatuations quickly. Since I began blogging this past January, I've probably had ten infatuations with different bloggers all lasting about a month.
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