Her Story
The relationship had started so wonderfully, but then they always did. She turned the corner, and realised, she was only 10 minutes from that unwanted conservation. Why was it her, she thought to herself, that always had to intervene and make the hard choices when the relationship was obviously going nowhere? Each new guy seemed so special when she met them. They were all cute and funny. They were all clearly desirous of her, and they all quite easily fell on to the same wave length as her. This one seemed to have turned out just the same as all the rest. She always ended up feeling that it was her that was doing all of the adjusting and compromising. They all started off as lacking in affectations and pretensions as her. And she would feel ‘at last’, but it wasn’t very long before all their own agendas began to emerge. These ‘agendas’ universally had the implication that she should compromise her life’s plans, and subjugate them to the wants of this new partner’s obviously more important life.
His Story
“I don't know anymore, it just seems to be so hard.” He sat quietly at his computer screen contemplating whether or not he would bother to inform anyone of his thoughts. He hadn't always done this successfully in the past, but it wasn't his memories of previous failures that was driving him, or more correctly pulling him up. It was the dangling question, “Why bother, what is it going to achieve, and ultimately who cares?” His desire for something akin to affirmation had expectations that matched his motivations – and they were a total zero. It wasn't so much that he was in a bad space because he wasn't. Through all the errors of judgement, the mistakes and the inconsistencies, of himself and of course others, his view of the future had become oddly positive.
She had really liked as well as loved this one. He was gentle and loving with his children. He was gentle and loving with her. After a time when she expressed a few minor issues about their growing relationship that made her a bit uncomfortable, he seemed to glaze over, and not want to understand what she was saying. This of course made her feel uncomfortable, so she stopped. All that did was drive her initial feelings underground where they began to fester, and receive daily affirmation as her role in the relationship, was degraded slice by delicate slice. When he eventually asked her to move in with him, an internal alarm bell stated ringing in a way that only she could hear. He was surprised when his offer wasn’t snapped up in an instant. So he retired to that space where a lack of emotional imagination was the pervading rule, but for her the seeds of the current trouble started a long, long time ago.
He had met her at a time when both their journeys were sailing close to the fires of hell. In the presence of all that heat they were actually quite good for each other, and a solid friendship evolved. In her mind he became a vital part of her crawling back to the light. He became her rock, or something akin to a brother. He was not so inclined. In the dynamic of two single adults of differing genders the male often finds difficult to keep his feelings at a platonic level. On this occasion he chose to adjust to this situation because he trully valued her friendship, but he also knew that some kind of day of reckoning was inevitable. One day she would end up meeting someone else, and whatever form this took, the consequence would be his loss. For as long as human kind has developed the capacity for self expression the tragedy of unequal desire has dominated all types of artistic expression. This is an immutable law that controls the world of male female relations.
Her parents weren’t particularly exceptional people. They were ordinary souls who loved their children, and tried to do the best they could for them. The one outstanding thing that they achieved for them was by accident, and that was to produce offspring that were exceptionally good-looking. She and all her siblings were very aesthetically blessed, but she was also different. She was a female version of Herman Melville’s character Billy Budd, and as a consequence was blissfully unaware of her unique combination of natural charm and beauty. This was never the condition of her suitors. They were mostly typical males who didn’t have a clue about the innocence of Eden, the absence of ego, or what all that mind crap meant. They simply saw her as a super hot girl who was very different to all the others they’d met, and she was remarkably low-maintenance.
The seeds of his unrequited affection germinated from within the confines of his own behaviour it must be said. He was a kind, gentle and empathetic male. His underlying motivation was nearly always ‘it’s not about me' or 'what can I do to help?' This significant lack of self absorption is an admirable quality, but unfortunately it’s neither natural, normal, healthy, nor does it deliver to its owner any benefits. As sophisticated highly developed animals we live in a physical, social and emotional environment that actually requires us to be selfish, otherwise we never get anything we want. Selfish people aren’t any happier but at the end of the day their desires and needs are satisfied way more regularly than are those of the meek. Realising all this now that wasn’t going to make any difference for him however. It was too late for that.
Within educational research one of the most enduring legacies, is that attractive children are universally treated better, and receive more positive reinforcement than their less biologically rewarded compatriots. Good looking kids get all the breaks. They get extra attention from teachers. They are chosen for the best jobs at school. They get to be the monitors. They are elected class captains. They lead the sports houses irrespective of their abilities. In any subjective assessments they always do better. All this heavy-handed flattery serves to produce young adults that are slightly conceited, a touch manipulative, and exhibiting a subtle but discernible narcissism. Somehow this perfect looking specimen managed to negotiate this lottery of self-esteem building and come out the other side; not only with a subconscious belief that she was a worthwhile and happy human being; but with an equally erroneous belief that everyone else was as well-adjusted as she was. She remembered sitting in Psychology 1010 and hearing about ‘self-concept’ for the first time and not really understanding what it all meant. ‘I mean, why would anyone bother think about themselves?' she wondered, 'It’s all good!’
Then the inevitable happened and she met someone new. At the time he did his best, but ultimately had to conclude he didn't handle it well. His world, her world, their world, and all the rest of the world was changed, and it was never going to be put back the same. He continued to be friends with her however and in the long term their respect for each other actually grew and became more important in their lives. The facts remained that he still got her who she was in ways nobody else did. The new bloke was kind but didn't appreciate her practical needs in quite same the way he could.
This of course was distinctive to her, because across society it’s an unusual state of affairs. Both society and the education system is profoundly wrong for rewarding the shallowness of physical appearance, and yet every day in the adult world everyone is nicer to the attractive. We all believe most things a good-looking person is telling us, and we do everything to make sure our offspring look their best. All this outrageous and totally unfair shit-fight had somehow passed her by. Perhaps it was her parents doing. Perhaps it was her brothers and sisters. As yet there’s no clear victory in the nature verses nurture debate, so it’s pointless speculation.
It took a while to start, but the first occasion he remembered was when she and Prince Charming were away for a holiday. She rang him quite late one evening. They were still in regular contact even though he continued to struggle with the new dynamic. She initially said she just wanted a chat, but then over the next little while she divulged that being in each other's face all day and night had highlighted more than just a couple of things that she had trouble with. Being the decent person he was, he resisted this obvious opportunity to white-ant the new boy's character. He did what any loyal, honest, moral and true friend would do. He listened carefully, offered supportive opinions, and pointed out that we all have oddities about us. Perhaps she should cut him a bit of slack and give him the benefit of the doubt. Even he could see that new boy was a nice enough bloke, and had many good things about him. It was a matter of putting it all on the scales and finding out where the balance lay.
Some people initially present like this, after all having a beautiful sweet nature is a very attractive feature. But closer or more intimate scrutiny unlocks all the usual suspects of artifice. Some of us are better as sublimating it all, but it’s always there. ‘Just be yourself’, is the mantra. But after decades of ‘the slings and arrows’ many of us experience the frustration of not knowing who that really is. But this most desirable of all personalities was slowly and surely being knocked out of her. Each new chisel blow on the beauty, that was her sculptured state, was like a piece of marble with a hairline fracture. Each chip meant it grew imperceptibly weaker. And now the movement was significant enough that it was starting to be noticeable.
The door to this new level of communication stayed slightly ajar for a short time, but then it ended up being pushed fully open. What evolved was a regularnstream of criticisms by her about the new boy. As always he tried hard, and felt he succeeded, in not using this inside knowledge to his advantage. After about a year of issue upon issue being reported, he stopped her one day and asked, “It's a good thing that you have me in your life to complain to about Prince Charming. Who do go to to complain about me?” ”Oh I don't have any complaints about you,” she replied. If that was the end of it he may have been able to adjust to that, but sadly it wasn't.
As she drove past the bus stop she realised it was now five minutes and counting. Her heart started to move a little quicker and she started to became aware just how worn-out, and used up she felt. Her plight was that her pure innocence prevented her from understanding why all the men in her life chose to enjoy the ride on the back of her sunny optimism. It always ended up easy for them while she felt it was all like hard work.
She to her credit had never done anything to lead him on. She made sure that he, and even the new boy, were aware that she loved him unconditionally, and he was her best friend. He just wasn't in that potential boy friend zone. Unfortunately for both him and for her there was an odd thing that he couldn't stop himself from doing. Whenever the opportunity was there he made sure to remind her of the level of his feelings for her. She never complained to him about this even though it must have been extremely irritating, especially when what she felt was out there from the first and was plainly known.
It would eventually reach a point where they stopped trying altogether and were prepared to let her do it all. This was a role she naturally accepted, because she incorrectly assumed that we are like her, and the effort would be worth it in the end. But this rosy view of others had been really shaken by this latest failure.
One day during one of their many chats she confessed to him that at one time she had thought quite seriously about him as a potential partner. She went on to say that she really did love him, but she felt that at this time in her life she was over having to accommodate another person's habits. There were just a couple of little things about him that she found problematic. Her disclosing of this stopped him in tracks, and the more he considered its implications the more frustrated he became. For the last year or so he had done his best to explain to her the minimal significance of someone else's bad habits, inconsistencies, poor communication, prejudice and immaturity, only to be told by her, in the face of this tsunami of relationship refuse, that she saw a couple of minor idiosyncrasies in him that she was not ready to adjust to. She was “over doing that stuff!”
If she’d experienced the normal course of good-looking kid reinforcement, she would have been in possession of a more judgemental nature, a tinge of bitchiness, and an inflated sense of entitlement. This would mean every potential lover would have to prove themselves worthy, and measure up in that searching test that is attractiveness’s equilibrium. We all know what it is. We all understand the process. We are uniformly controlled by its pitiless rules. And we ignore it at the peril of endless broken hearts.
This really got to him because it confirmed something that he had suspected for a while. Being good-hearted, honest, diligent, and decent means absolutely nothing to anybody. As a collection of values it belongs in a parallel universe where nobody sees it or cares. “Nice” blokes are judged by higher standards. They get heavier expectations put on them. And who they are as individuals is determined by their one or two indiscretions. As a galling double standard it is especially noticeable when compared with what is expected, or more precisely what is not expected, of the mass of self-absorbed, care-free, valueless, pleasure-seeking, lazy males. For him this whole show was a perfect example of hypocrisy on steroids!
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It was John Keats who said in “Ode on a Grecian Urn”, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” Well what a load of pompous crap. What did the millions of deprived and miserable people suffering inhumanely in borstals and work-houses think of Grecian urns? They’d probably never seen one; or have a clue what artistic expression is. What did the servants at Longbourn think about the subtle differences between ‘Pride and Prejudice’? After all these were the big issues for the do-nothings who couldn’t feed, dress, or even deal with their own toileting without the assistance of their slaves.
What did the illegitimate children of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, the archetypal prophet of modern parenting, and philosophical template for the romantic poets, think of the shabby neglect committed by their rock-star dad. He cruelly dumped each one of them in an orphanage which in his day was about the same as putting them in prison. They were not enlightened times, and what he did was the most monumental of hypocracies. Even Voltaire’s arrogant smile of satisfaction with what he saw as the vindication of pure reason was premised on a lucky win in a public lottery. Sure his wit and intelligence saw him take advantage of his opportunities, but how many other witty and intelligent people never get those breaks.
The history of the human relationships is littered with millions of souls who between their hearts and their heads managed to sufficiently overrule their egos and to demonstrate the potentials to love as perfectly as any person could. But in the presence of beauty they experience only pain or loss. They lack the physical presence or aesthetic charm to pull off such nature defying feats.
Likewise personal acts of virtue and kindness are no doubt appreciated by their recipients, but they have about as much romantic charm as a bottle of tomato sauce spread over a plate of chocolate ice cream. It turns out that life is for the lucky, not the good.
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As she turned into his driveway she could see his visibly hunched over figure in the shadows on the verandah. Perhaps he sensed what was coming; she tried to take a little momentary comfort from this. If only she’d known the truth. In the modern world sweet people like her, and in stories like Billy Budd, are hardly ever rewarded for their innocence. In fact in the story of Billy he ends up dead So she will probably keep on being the person who does all the heavy lifitng. Her best hope is that out there somewhere there is someone who understands and appreciates the innocence of Eden, and he helps her reconstruct her shattered confidence.
He decided on this occasion his best option was to log out, turn off the light, and go to bed. It would no doubt be on his mind in the morning and for more than a few days. He would normally send her a message outlining his current thoughts, but not this time. It just isn't worth the stress. He was “over doing that stuff” too. He was not going to change . He felt a sort of peace with who he was, and he felt comfortable that he had nothing to hide. She was still his very best friends and was actually in need of support for other reasons right now. It was time for him to be the grown up for a change, and he was never going to be any good at being selfish.
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