I just finished She Came To Stay by Simone de Beauvoir. An entrancing book. Apparently its a semi-autobiographical account of a sort of menage a trois she and her lifelong lover Sartre had with a young student of theirs. She's a beautiful and ruthless writer. I can't believe I haven't read her earlier.
I love this passage: "With a sudden movement she pushed back her bangs, baring her smooth forehead. Her face seemed to swell in a burst of violent hatred and suffering. Her mouth was partly open in a smile, like a gash in an overripe fruit; and this open wound in the venomous pulp was exposed to the sunlight. It was impossible to get anywhere."
I've been thinking a lot lately about my mistrust of other women. Its not about jealousy or competition for men. Its more about my fear of being emotionally open and vulnerable with someone outside of a sexual relationship and my past history of feeling hurt by female friends. Why is it that I feel more comfortable having intellectual/philosophical conversations with men? With my female friends I often find us returning (again and again) to discussions centered on interpersonal relationships. I myself perpetuate this cycle with my endless complaints about my love life (or lack thereof)! Its so frustrating. Especially when I know that women are having these types of conversations - but probably with whoever they are in a relationship with. I think this is what partially accounts for my deep loneliness and sadness without a partner; I miss the intensity of the conversations I used to have with the men I've been with. Now, I have no one left who wants to engage in passionate dialogue with me. I remember with my first boyfriend how we used to stay up all night discussing philosophy, art, music. We played each other our favorite songs (he first introduced me to Leonard Cohen and Jimmy Cliff, among infinite others) til 4am and read out loud to one another. My brothers and I still engage in heated political diatribes but other than that I feel intellectually void, my thoughts tangled in my head with no outlet.
As my aspirations for romantic love crumble slowly in my hands and slip away, I long for the company of wise women.
1 comment:
Is romantic love the most important thing to want? I usually wouldn't pose that question that categorically, but it seems like you equate it with many other things profoundly important to you. You can never eliminate the desire for it because we all desire profounder and deeper connections. However, we can also draw sustenance from our friendships, associations, and activities. In other words, our "projects" can take the edge off the things in our life.
I can understand the loneliness and the existential pain. When I have felt this way or doubted in my own decisions, I returned to the realization that the moment just wasn't right. There have been actual moments ripped from time, but more often these vignettes reflect a larger chunks of my life. I try to understand the way in which my failure educate me and make me wiser. If the past didn't meet my expectations, then clearly the moment was wrong and I had something to learn. And the learning never ceases.
You should not want your deepest desire so it can be found. There may be some truth to that midnight fortune cookie.
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