Risks and Humiliations
So I got dumped officially last Saturday, and I was totally sad about it for exactly 24 hours...and then I watched Back to the Future 2 on Sunday, and I don't know, I was just over it, somehow. But in the time in between, I got a lot of words of comfort and encouragement from friends, including: "That guy sounds like such a dumbass," "You're better off in the long run without him, except for the humiliation," and "Don't give him the satisfaction of even giving it a second thought."
I noticed a running theme in all this advice, and my response to it was that I actually don't care about what he thinks - whether he feels triumphant or thinks I'm a loser - that none of that gives me either blush or regret, and that the only thing I really DO care about is whether or not I succeed. That's probably why I fail in those relationship endeavors in which I'm the more interested party, because in my eagerness to succeed I never bother to restrain myself, leaving no stone unturned, so that in the end I appear desperate, which everyone knows is a big turn-off.
But as for the shame: does the princess feel shame in NOT kissing the toad? Of course not. She might be sad about not getting her prince, but at the end of the day she's still a princess and he's still a toad.
(Translation: princess = the one with balls, toad = the one without balls)
In my conversation with the Bang, we were discussing the merits of being the type who "love like you've never been hurt before." She wondered if it were not better to sustain that enthusiasm rather than become bitter and cynical at 25. She thought perhaps it was, while I in my hurt state thought that sooner or later I needed to wise up and learn from my mistakes, and stop making such stupid choices. But now that I'm over the hurt phase, I'm reconsidering my position. I'm starting to agree with the Bang's conclusion; because while you can certainly discipline yourself to endure the pain - and it seems, judging from my experience this time, that I have finally learned to do just that - you can't really train yourself to be head-over-heels happy. That's something you get by surprise. So in those rare encounters when I have a chance to be really excited, and entertain even briefly the potential of falling in love again, wouldn't I be a fool to hold back and deny myself that most magical and enjoyable of surprises?
The crucial thing, of course, is that you DO train yourself to bite the bullet and pick yourself up after a disaster. It's an essential component to being a gambler.
Recently, I was reading an old post from this blog in which I was quoting Andrew WK. He writes:
'Attraction, love, romance, and intimacy are all risks, and each time we engage in an experience with another person, we put ourselves in a vulnerable place. I personally think this is great. I think exposing oneself to the passions of life is the only way to form - it's an opportunity to loose sense of who we are, only to snap back with a better understanding of what it means to be "myself."'
I had posted this quote because it was part of a larger manifesto that I found to be especially hilarious, but I don't think I quite appreciated at the time what Andrew WK was talking about with all the forming and snapping back business. But now, I think I know what he means, and I can see how one might believe in his paradox that 'the more vulnerable you can be, the less you'll need to protect yourself from being hurt.' After losing myself and picking up the pieces again, here are some of the things I learned:
1. I'm a stronger person for realizing that I'm able to take risks. It's one of my great strengths, and an important part of who I am.
2. What matters to me is that I tried my best. If I fail while trying my best, I have nothing to regret; and having no regrets goes a (surprisingly) long way to balming the bleeding gash of losing something that once made you happy.
3. I'm a happier and more interesting person when I'm not obsessing about one person. As a naturally obsessive personality, as long as I channel it in the right direction, I can derive hours of entertainment researching music, movies, news, comedy, obscenities, fashion, dance, aesthetic theory, German, and hell, even Greek and Latin literature. Obsessing about the one tends to obliterate the rest.
4. I can always count on myself for laughs, and somehow I've managed to convince the coolest people in the world to be my friends. How's that for an accomplishment? For sure, no small potatoes.
I noticed a running theme in all this advice, and my response to it was that I actually don't care about what he thinks - whether he feels triumphant or thinks I'm a loser - that none of that gives me either blush or regret, and that the only thing I really DO care about is whether or not I succeed. That's probably why I fail in those relationship endeavors in which I'm the more interested party, because in my eagerness to succeed I never bother to restrain myself, leaving no stone unturned, so that in the end I appear desperate, which everyone knows is a big turn-off.
But as for the shame: does the princess feel shame in NOT kissing the toad? Of course not. She might be sad about not getting her prince, but at the end of the day she's still a princess and he's still a toad.
(Translation: princess = the one with balls, toad = the one without balls)
In my conversation with the Bang, we were discussing the merits of being the type who "love like you've never been hurt before." She wondered if it were not better to sustain that enthusiasm rather than become bitter and cynical at 25. She thought perhaps it was, while I in my hurt state thought that sooner or later I needed to wise up and learn from my mistakes, and stop making such stupid choices. But now that I'm over the hurt phase, I'm reconsidering my position. I'm starting to agree with the Bang's conclusion; because while you can certainly discipline yourself to endure the pain - and it seems, judging from my experience this time, that I have finally learned to do just that - you can't really train yourself to be head-over-heels happy. That's something you get by surprise. So in those rare encounters when I have a chance to be really excited, and entertain even briefly the potential of falling in love again, wouldn't I be a fool to hold back and deny myself that most magical and enjoyable of surprises?
The crucial thing, of course, is that you DO train yourself to bite the bullet and pick yourself up after a disaster. It's an essential component to being a gambler.
Recently, I was reading an old post from this blog in which I was quoting Andrew WK. He writes:
'Attraction, love, romance, and intimacy are all risks, and each time we engage in an experience with another person, we put ourselves in a vulnerable place. I personally think this is great. I think exposing oneself to the passions of life is the only way to form - it's an opportunity to loose sense of who we are, only to snap back with a better understanding of what it means to be "myself."'
I had posted this quote because it was part of a larger manifesto that I found to be especially hilarious, but I don't think I quite appreciated at the time what Andrew WK was talking about with all the forming and snapping back business. But now, I think I know what he means, and I can see how one might believe in his paradox that 'the more vulnerable you can be, the less you'll need to protect yourself from being hurt.' After losing myself and picking up the pieces again, here are some of the things I learned:
1. I'm a stronger person for realizing that I'm able to take risks. It's one of my great strengths, and an important part of who I am.
2. What matters to me is that I tried my best. If I fail while trying my best, I have nothing to regret; and having no regrets goes a (surprisingly) long way to balming the bleeding gash of losing something that once made you happy.
3. I'm a happier and more interesting person when I'm not obsessing about one person. As a naturally obsessive personality, as long as I channel it in the right direction, I can derive hours of entertainment researching music, movies, news, comedy, obscenities, fashion, dance, aesthetic theory, German, and hell, even Greek and Latin literature. Obsessing about the one tends to obliterate the rest.
4. I can always count on myself for laughs, and somehow I've managed to convince the coolest people in the world to be my friends. How's that for an accomplishment? For sure, no small potatoes.
posted by Rex at 1:10 PM
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