I’ve still been thinking about this, as on Friday night there was a lot of time devoted to talking about it…
What’s going to keep someone from fucking-up is their own fuck-ups…let me explain: Of course there will always be the wondering eye, for both men and women, it’s going to happen. At some point, I don’t care if you’re as good-looking as my friends Dan & Ed (and they’re a hot couple…Ed’s a gal, btw), the sex tapers off from what it once was, it’s simple fact. And there will always be the angst of knowing that you will never have that again, the whole first-time magical wonderment of it, that this-is-it and oh-god-please-help-me-not-to-come-early-at-least-the-first-time spell you cast on yourself a split-second beforehand, it is simply gone from the entire equation…so what keeps someone from fucking around?
Their own fuck-ups.
In this sense – waking up to, or going to bed with or perhaps sharing a meal with another who not only understands your fucked-up side and still sticks around is the biggest compliment one can have. It’s someone who hears you talk your shit and still likes to kiss the mouth from which it came that is the strongest emotional pull-back to your senses. They like you – they’re still here despite it all.
I can’t remember which film it was that this was written, but I loved it:
Premise was based on that song by the great Dusty Springfield, ‘The Look of Love’ – most assume it would the glance that pierces the dinner party, the over-done tight shot/pull back as the main character realizes he stopped talking mid-sentence, but that’s not it. That’s simply the look of lust, infatuation, call it what you want. But the ‘look of love’ has to be one of mere patience and understanding. I see it all the time in my best friends, Mel and Ollie – when I get to go see them in the U.K., he and I, we’re boys: Video games and golf, Quavers and sausages, guffing and Page 3, et al., and then occasionally, I’ll catch Mel’s slight smile in the midst of rebuking him for talking too much about Nigella Lawson’s ‘jugs’ and I see it. There’s no attempt at being anyone he’s not (which is the biggest reason I love and look up to him), nor is there Mel’s expectation for him to be anything other than himself, the lad & the loving husband. But to know, to know without a shadow of a doubt in even the worst of times that this person takes you for not only everything you are, but everything you are not, has to be what Dusty meant.
…and it starts with being honest about everything.
I tried that. I liked it. Scary as hell. But she did it first. I feel bad for not saying more.
Gonna to try it some more. I’d sure like to make someone both ex and inhale at the same time, for both patience and pride.
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