Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: argument, boyfriend, cleaning, ex, paul carvel, quotation, reality, relationship, turtle
The Pirate and I had a brief spat yesterday. We were cleaning the oven, I tried to help him with his bit (cleaning the gunk off the wire racks) and he reacted like an insolent fourteen year old.
I hate the person that he thinks I am.
He sees me as a controlling, bossy bitch who gets stroppy when she doesn’t ‘get her own way’. I swear I’m not – I have been described as ‘too laid back’ on occassion. He just sees suggestions as commands and requests as orders. Another example – I recently asked him if he’d help me clean out the turtle’s tank.
Yes, he said.
Really? I asked.
Definitely, he replied.
When?
Right now.
I got started, and when there was no sign of him after ten minutes I went back into him and asked again.
Just tell me if you’re not going to help, I don’t mind doing it alone.
I will.
Ok.
Still no sign. I asked a third time and he angrily joined me, stomping, slamming doors and creating drama any way possible. Ok, maybe I shouldn’t have kept asking – but surely he should have just told me he didn’t want to help? He’s afraid of the word ‘no’. Terrified. Which leads to situations like the above on a regular basis.
This is possibly the dullest post I’ve ever written, but I do find it fascinating the way people twist reality to fit in with their own illusions. As far as he’s concerned, I demanded that he help straight away and got angry because he didn’t. As far as I’m concerned, he said he’d do something then didn’t do it, which led to me reacting reasonably distressed. Which one of us is right?
The operative word in the opening line above is ‘brief’. We got over it in record time. Because I know I don’t have to put up with this forever, that I’m not going to live with him for long, that we’re not going to have kids, because his issues have nothing to do with me anymore. Phew.
In other news, we’re going on a last minute sun holiday together. Yep. I’m packing a suitcase full of books I’ve been looking forward to reading, and leaving my phone at home. Heaven. And I think we’ll get along fine – there might be a disagreement or two, but that’s why we broke up, right?!
Ever been on holidays with your ex? Ever realised how incompatible you were because you had different methods of oven cleaning, or something equally ridiculous? I broke up with someone because I hated his shoes, and someone else because he was so tall that I could always see up his nose. As far as I’m concerned, if little things like that bother you there’s no point in pretending it’s ever going to work.
(The title is a quote from Paul Carvel.)
Filed under: LOVE, Parents, Relationships, Single life, philosophy | Tags: beauty, boyfriend, character, colour, partner, philosophy, psychology, quirk, relationship
The best thing about my philosophy class is the opportunity to see things from other people’s points of view. There’s one guy in particular that fascinates me. He’s in his mid twenties, has a head of unruly dark hair, loves torn jeans and orange knitwear. He reads a lot and often quotes interesting and relevant material. A few weeks ago he said that while knowledge is about learning something new every day, wisdom is about letting something go. And last Thursday, as we discussed beauty, he made a really valid point:
Once we give something a name, we stop seeing it as beautiful. An example – a simple concrete block, to someone who had never seen one and had no idea what its function was, would see it as an object of interest and beauty. The clean lines, the rough material, the solid form. But when we see a concrete block, we know it’s a concrete block, and because it’s familiar we see past its beauty.
I think most people would agree that we forget to see the beauty that surrounds us. New belongings are a thrill to begin with, but the shine quickly fades and we lose sight of the qualities that attracted us to them in the first place. As far as I can tell, the same thing happens with relationships.
When you first meet someone you enjoy learning all about them. About their interests, their history, their quirks and character. You enjoy the attraction, the chemistry, the conversations. Over time, however, you can easily begin to see past their redeeming features, noticing instead the negative things you have learnt or recalling the not so wonderful experiences you have endured together. That person that once gave you butterflies slowly becomes the person who never takes the rubbish out, who is incapable of replacing the toilet roll, or who infuriates you with their inability to fold towels.
The Pirate and I, after months of single living, get on better than ever before. He’s stopped being the disappointing boyfriend, the unreliable chauffeur, the uninspiring confidante, and instead, he’s just become himself in my eyes. I can see him, unhindered by the expectations of love. He is who he is, and he’s wonderful. Now is probably the time to admit that there have been moments of romance since the breakup. They too are somehow more meaningful than ever before, possibly because the relationship we have now is open and honest in a way I couldn’t have previously imagined.
I think we’ve all had some experience of this. Moments when you realise that yes, your parents are human. That someone you’ve known your whole life is capable of things you never realised. That your partner or spouse is truly wonderful and incredibly beautiful, only you’re not always aware of it.
Ah, philosophy. Did I mention the guy in question is particularly cute? I think it’s the ripped jeans, and the fact that he’s not afraid of colour. And the wisdom, of course.
Open yourself up.
Filed under: LOVE, Literature, Relationships, philosophy | Tags: attention, audience, devotion, existence, lightness of being, literary fiction, Literature, LOVE, milan kundera, philosophy, prague, psychology, relationship
A few years ago I read The Unbearable Lightness of Being. It blew me away. It’s a novel by Milan Kundera set in Prague in 1968, and although I’m sure the book is of huge political and cultural importance I was most impressed by Kundera’s philosophy. His observations throughout the book provide an inspiring insight into the human mind.
Years later, I fell in love, devoted three years of my life to a certain beautiful person, and skipped the country when our relationship disintegrated. Months later we caught up and spent a night talking about ourselves, our love and our loss. One of the comments I made that night was that I felt at the time as if I had an invisible audience everywhere I went. I’m always looking for the approval or admiration of this group of fantasy critics.
Often, when I look back on a situation in my life where I behaved in a manner most people would describe as promiscuous/loud/irresponsible I can honestly say that I was just looking for a good story. Life is more interesting when you say ‘yes’, and an interesting life leads to interesting stories. My critics, immaterial as they are, love a good story.
Last night I watched The Unbearable Lightness of Being for the first time. It’s a beautiful film, and really captures the characters as they were written. Today I did a little more reading, and came across a quote that resonates deeply with me:
“We all need somebody to look at us. We can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under. The first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public…
The second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. They are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners…
Then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. Their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. One day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark..
And finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. They are the dreamers.”
So I’m a dreamer. It’s a theory I’m going to keep in mind over the next while, as I’m sure it has practical applications in gaining a deeper understanding of those around us.
Which are you?
Filed under: LOVE, Relationships, Single life | Tags: lesson, new man, relationship, romance, sage, The One
The Sage and I parted company this morning after a wonderful weekend together.
I feel a little lost without him beside me now, knowing that I won’t see him for weeks or months. The distance between us, and our clashing schedules, are the only two things that prevented our weekend from being perfect.
I described him in the last post as a friend who has the potential to be much more than that. Things are the same now - there’s still potential, but I don’t think it will be realised anytime soon. We talked, a lot, about the feelings we have for each other. It was wonderful to hear my own thoughts being spoken from his lips – times we’ve shared and memories we have that mean a lot to us both.
A friend of mine told me years ago that he believed everything in life came down to timing. I agree. If The Sage and I were in another place, at another time, this would be the start of a relationship. But we’re here, and it’s simply the continuation of an exceptional friendship. Neither of us can know if it will ever develop beyond that, and we’ve both accepted it for what it is.
There have been a few amazing men in my life over the last few years, and quite a few similar situations. I think it’s important not to dwell on the ‘could haves’ – relationships that never had the chance to develop due to the constraints of time or distance. Instead, I embrace the fact that there isn’t just One. There are Many.
