So, I keep having this recurring nightmare. Morpheus is injured and in the hospital, and when I see him, I start sobbing uncontrollably, and explaining that I didn't know about his condition, otherwise, I would have come sooner. Last night, in the dream, he was barely recognizable with tubes coming out of him, half of his face covered with gauze, and missing an arm. Again, I cried. In his compromised state, he gave me a ring--a wedding or engagement ring. I remember holding it in my hand (this too has occurred in other nightmares with him in it), and being amazed that we were going to be husband and wife--no matter his physical state.
Of course, when I woke up, I started having anxiety (probably moderate, nothing worth going to the ER for), and I was haunted by the images that were part of my psyche landscape of my sleeping hours. Even the LSU Professor admitted that we didn't know what happened to him. I sent a TXT-message to Harry, asking what I should do. He said to call Morpheus, so when I arrived at the gym, I borrowed their phone, and it rang several times and then went to voicemail. Harry then added that I might want to find him, and check on him.
I sent an email to Morpheus later this afternoon, saying that I needed to know he was okay before I made a big mistake, and that I would arrive at his house sometime between six and seven pm, and if he didn't want me to come, to email me saying so. A little while later, Morpheus responded that he's fine and has family staying with him for a few days, and that he will be very busy until friday.
Now, I'm not stupid, although sometimes I play the part. I know that just because he says he will have time in a few days--that doesn't translate into "we should see each other." But I replied back that I will arrive at his house on Saturday at around six pm, unless he tells me not to do so. I feel like telling him he's a fucking liar (he assured me weeks ago that we would see each other in less than a month).
Do I want to go over there and play nice? No, he should have responded to the first email in which I just asked if he was okay, because my calls were going immediately to voicemail. The appropriate response on his part would have been, "Yes, I'm redirecting your calls for x, y, and z reasons." Or maybe not give a reason at all.
This sounds cliche, but maybe it's true. If Morpheus can't see what a special person I am (I really don't believe I'm a special person, but I do believe that it's possible for other people to think so because that's a big piece of romantic love), then I should just blocked him for eternity, and move on to someone more acceptable and receptive.
I'm sure this situation says something unsavory about me, like I have self-esteem issues, like I'm a fucking doormat, that I'm being taken advantage of, and on and on.
But more importantly, I'm wondering what I'm hoping to accomplish--what's my end goal? And is there any feasible way that it might come true?
The Advisor told me not to be a martyr (he was referring to how I treat my grandmother, but he might as well have been talking about Morpheus). Love the unlovable? Take the time to break through the barriers that keep people afraid? Noble goals, really--I mean, if you're a nun, and doing it for Jesus, not so you can fuck someone.
There is, of course, the major trap that we so often fall into--the idea that we can change people for the better just by our mere presence in their lives. Does it happen? Sure, but it's not the rule. And why would you want to go out and change someone? Shouldn't you love him/her just the fucked up way they are? Ideally, yes. Somehow I feel like someone is better suited to deal with Morpheus, someone a little more laid back, someone who doesn't mind being ignored, someone who isn't quite so persistent. They make these women, some of them even turn out to be trophy wives because they really don't give a shit as long as they have their allowance, and a nice Tesla to drive. They turn a blind eye to all sorts of questionable shit, i.e. their husbands fucking around--because these husbands are rich and entitled. And these rich son of a bitches (like poor men too) objectify women, and break them down into malleable pieces that they can digest--someone who never questions them or never gets angry when they won't skip a golf day to spend time with the "family." Women who sit quietly, and passively allow some man to direct their lives. (I've read articles that suggest this, and then, please watch Billions, and Axlerod's wife, who has immense power over him because she's the mother of their sons, but they hardly spend any time together--and she doesn't seem to do anything all day because she has a housekeeper and a babysitter and a cook and other staff to make her life more comfortable). Do you want to bow to a man? There's nothing wrong with that, no matter what the feminists say (actually there is something wrong with that, but alas!).
I mean, don't all women want to be loved and cared for because of their personality, wit, intellect and accomplishments? Shouldn't a man be impressed if one of "his girls" wins a college-wide poetry contest?
But what happens when the woman breaks the mold, and earns more than most of the men she meets? What then? Does she quit her job, raise a few brats, and hope that in the end, she's loved more? Does she succumb to the domestic role?
The stripper men fall in love with is not the woman they will continue loving because it's all too dirty and risky, and oh, my god, what would the club say?
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