I swear I am not trying to plagiarise Ms. Bradshaw in writing the swanky ‘Sex and the City’. Neither am I trying to assuage the fault of men as blatantly displayed in that preposterous ‘Desperate Housewives’. And no, I will never change the aloofness against men as deeply felt by Meridith Grey in ‘Grey’s Anatomy’. But, the follies of men never cease to amuse me and this is what we shall talk about tonight.
On a completely off-topic note, I drool all the same, every time Patrick Dempsey who plays Dr. Derek Shepherd appears on the screen. He just oozes sex, don’t you think? ( I sincerely hope children are not reading this blog).
Men – and, for the life of me, this subject is still rocket-science to my brain – have been guilty of drawing inspiration from women only to swiftly return home to their wives without an iota of guilt. Hemingway sat at at Place St-Michel in Paris, saw a beautiful woman walked into the cafe, immediately possessed her in his mind and began writing furiously.
Since he was Earnest Hemingway, whatever he wrote that day turned out to be a masterpiece, which was subsequently published in his collection of essay ‘A Moveable Feast’. What I find rather intriguing, is that the fact that he then headed home, cordially asked his amiable wife to pack her bag, to go to a chalet below Les Averant – to appease his desire to write elsewhere. Why can’t the wife be his inspiration instead of other woman?
I am no relationship connoisseur, but what Hemingway did is hardly an exception to the general rule. Both, men and women, take the persons closest to them for granted. I shudder thinking about those stories when familiarity breeds contempt, if not, outright callousness – be it in in a marriage or relationship.
A dear friend (a publisher to a local magazine, nonetheless) uttered something in jest to me, ‘… but she is happily married’. To which I unthinkingly replied, ‘My dear, no one is. Those are magazine stuff, you of all people should know that!’ And the publisher laughed out loud.
Of course, marriage has its lion share of advantage but to be deliriously, happily married or to be in a relationship without trials and turbulence are just fairy tale materials. After the novelty wears out and one’s idiosyncrasy becomes more pronounced: reality reigns supreme. And reality – true to its form – is hard to swallow. This, would be a real test in your relationship.
On a more contemporary note, my blogging sister, The Witch, recently wrote a profound post on fidelity or lack thereof. Do read her, she is so real; she sends a shiver down my spine.
But I remain an incurable romantic. No matter how real it gets, I still believe in love. I end this post with a phrase from Shakespeare’s comedy As You Like It: ‘If thou rememberest not the slightest folly, that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved’.
A thousand times good night.