So there is this movie that I've been wanting to see for a little while. My friend Glenn told me that this particular movie was about me. And naturally, I was intrigued.
Well, on Tuesday payday finally arrived and with it the ability to once again carelessly toss my money around. So I went to the movies. (After getting candy (DOTS, naturally) at Target of course). I went alone. I usually do. Some people think it strange. And it is a bit awkward buying a ticket for one to a chick-flick on a Wednesday night. And being that one guy amidst the couples dotting the semi-dark theatre as the previews roll is bothersome if I let it be. But whatever.
500 Days of Summer (Yeah, this is my movie.)
Even with Glenn's forewarning, I was struck by the seemingly endless parallels and familiar moments that insisted on playing across the screen. And the commonalities between Tom (lead character) and myself are many.
Hopeless romantic from birth - Check. Dreamer - Check. Nice - Check. Hopeful - Check. Trusting - Check. Sincere - Check. Sensitive - Check. Vulnerable - Check. Emotional - Check. Melancholy - Check. Overreactor - Check. Gives too much too soon - Check. Consistently gives more than he receives - Check. Overeager - Check. Much too urgent - Check. Unable to relax - Check. Bitter - Check. Disillusioned - Check.
It has gradually become apparent to me that girls are invariably attracted to certain things. "Nice, trusting, vulnerable, overeager and giving" are not among them.
For the longest time I assumed that girls truly wanted a "nice guy" as I had heard so many of them claim. I don't believe that anymore. I haven't for a while. It simply is not true. When speaking about "girls" anyway. My friend Lynette says that girls cross a threshold around the age of 24, and after that point, well, they actually begin thinking.... Every girl I have ever been interested in, was at the time, younger than 24. So I am unable to comment on the validity of her theory. But I am resolute. Never again will I dabble in testing the pre-24 shark-infested waters that every time, leave me dismal and dismantled. I hope and trust that her notion turns out to be refreshingly true.
The movie was called 500 Days of Summer. But it may as well have been:
8 Years of Tabitha, Mackenzie, Janie, Layla, Jessi, Karie, Kailee, Breana, Brandy, Brette and Mae...
(Yes, these are false names, created in order to protect the guilty...) As for the girls named above: I dated only a couple, I professed my feelings for most, some of the others didn't give me a chance. Or at least I already knew the plot before I tried to begin the story. Some played their little games until I called their bluff. One I didn't have any feelings for; but I hoped I would get the chance to find out. The three things they all have in common - Failure, Disappointment, Defeat... And, of course along with that you get - comedy. What romance story worth its salt lacks the cruel joy that comes in watching a guy fumble about in complete and utter ineptitude.
Bruce Springsteen wrote this great line in a song called "The River." It goes like such: "is a dream a lie if it don't come true? or is it something worse?" Well, as far back as I can recall, I have been nothing if not a dreamer. It's the curse of the "hopeless romantic." What's funny, is that after realizing quite a while ago that I am in fact one of the accursed - I never gave much thought to the fact that it is described as hopeless rather than hopeful. On plain reading it's easy to gloss over the word "hopeless" focus instead on "romantic"and think it a perfectly sweet and desirable way to be; the lived reality of the differing meanings is not sweet, nor is it desirable. Not even close.
A mighty pain to love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.
I have often been left to wonder why there is a pit... a chasm... a void in my heart. Why do I yearn for someone? I am quite comfortable spending my days in relative isolation. I have a bit of the loner in me. And yet, this yearning... And when my many dreams have come crashing, I want to know why they were lies. Were they only lies? Lies of betrayal? Or vain, childish chasing-after-the-wind lies of my own twisted creation? Here's a little more from Bruce...
When the promise is broken you go on living
But it steals something from down in your soul
Like when the truth is spoken and it don’t make no difference
Something in your heart goes cold.
But it steals something from down in your soul
Like when the truth is spoken and it don’t make no difference
Something in your heart goes cold.
These experiences have changed me. That's life. When our expectations don't flower into reality - wounds are created and left to fester. Sometimes they scab over, but the scars remain. Once you taste the bitterness of betrayal, the goodness of hope is perverted. Hope is never again pure. Betrayal leaves behind paranoia, insecurity, distrust and hopefully, along with those negative things, a heightened sense of discernment, a keener eye for falsehood and the fortitude to trust your learned instincts, especially when they are in direct opposition to what you are hoping for.
Jesus sent the disciples out to spread the good news, but with the warning that they should be "innocent as doves and wise as serpents." Wisdom comes by many paths. But, much to our chagrin, the most painful are often the most enlightening. And I have to believe that part of what he meant by that, was, trust in what you know to be true of human nature - by my teaching, and by your life experiences. By the frailty and vulnerability you have felt deep in your bones all the days of your life - you know not to trust in human nature.
That paragraph may seem off topic, but I don't think it is. Time after time I have put girls on a pedestal. It is unfair to them. And it is dangerous. It has led to me being infatuated with girls I didn't really know, and being either unable or unwilling to accept the reality that we didn't click, or weren't a good match, or that they weren't interested, or that I shouldn't be... And if I had reined myself in by acknowledging that they were flawed human beings, and that I needed to be very careful about allowing myself to fall for an idealized version of them - I would have saved myself a lot of pain (and on the flip side, a lot of hilarious stories, it's not all bad). But I loved being "in love." Many times it was the idea of the girl rather than the actual girl that I was so taken with.
It took me a long, long time to realize that I have always been over-eager - much too welcoming and trusting of the signs of "love." By "love," I mean the ideas of love found in songs, movies and fiction. In reality, "love" eventually shows its true face in a cruel concoction of innocence, guile and selfishness. I always assumed that girls were like me. That they were looking for something meaningful, good and lasting. Something real. I have never been interested in merely getting attention, or having a casual fling, or simply being "curious" about someone. I don't mess around. Even though I fell headlong into infatuation quite a few times, I always had my eyes on the prize, on the end goal.
I was not afraid of commitment. Even though I used to believe in the idea of soul mates, at the same time I understood that it would take daily commitment and sacrifice for a relationship to last. I have been ready (too ready) to stare forever in the face - warts and all. I never anticipated that some of those girls merely wanted to "waste my precious time." Some girls are true. Some mean what they say, and by their deeds prove it. Some are merely, in the words of the incomparable John Milton - "hyenas." I have a knack for finding hyenas or as Bruce would say - "another tramp of hearts, crying tears of faithlessness."
Maybe girls have always been so concerned with playing games and getting attention, but it seems to me that a cultural shift has taken place in a fairly widespread fashion among the last couple of generations. Men and women's roles in relationships seem much murkier and less defined these days. We do live in a post-modern age that is partially defined by it's preference for not defining things... So I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise. 500 Days... portrayed it pretty well I think. This exchange between Tom and Summer is a good example:
Summer: We've been like Sid and Nancy for months now.
Tom: Summer, Sid stabbed Nancy, seven times with a kitchen knife, I mean we have some disagreements but I hardly think I'm Sid Vicious.
Summer: No I'm Sid.
I have lived that moment. I have been completely and utterly emasculated by a girl. A girl who was younger than I was, which only deepened the shame. Wait a second. Did I say girl? I meant girls. And they are always younger. A pattern that needs some wholesale change, I'm quite sure. I'm toying with the idea of writing a memoir, a dating memoir, primarily about the stories of each of the girls named above. I'm planning on using this blog as a sort of prewriting/rough draft online notepad if you will. So stay tuned. Hilarity is sure to ensue...
Love is the most beautiful of dreams
and the worst of nightmares.
William Shakespeare
and the worst of nightmares.
William Shakespeare
Thought you might like this article about bruce:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/35236
good post. i'm not going to tell you anything like "you'll find someone" because thats not what you want to hear. however..i did highly enjoy reading your post :) thanks for calling me your friend!
ReplyDeleteHahaha, yeah, we're awful creatures. But only sometimes.
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