Why I Can't Stop Crying

I've just finished reading the first chapter of the third book in the Ender's Game series. I can't stop crying. It's seven pages about characters of whom I know nothing, and yet I can't stop crying. I even put the book down and went off to do other stuff, and I still can't stop crying. Why? Because in seven pages, I realized that the dream I've long since given up on is the ideal that makes marriage so perfect for so many people, and it's a happiness I am afraid I am doomed to live without. In seven pages, I saw a man's intellectual and philosophical dependence on his wife--a dependence that I have never been capable of relinquishing because I do not trust people to be correct. I do not trust people to not screw things up. But if I cannot trust the woman I love to be competent, then how can I completely love her? How could I ever truly depend on her? How could I ever commune with her at all? If I see most everyone as inferior to myself, if I see her as inferior to myself, then the only love I can ever experience is a small slice of the whole--an appetizer. It's a taste of what could be, and it only serves to whet my appetite for something more. The more I learn, I realize I've settled in the past. I've settled for less than I deserve. It's not about beauty or attractiveness. It's not about what she does for me or what I do for her. It's about whether it's even possible for one to understand what the other desires to convey. If this cannot be achieved in both directions, the relationship is doomed to failure for at least one will find this to be an unbearably lonely existence, where not even the person you share your life with can comprehend your desires, curiosities, whims, theories, confusions, joys, bursts of insight, or even the reasons for why you feel you are not understood.

If I ever do find this, I will fight to the death to keep it. In seven pages, we see this. If she were to ever die, there would surely be nothing left worth living for.

From last night's movie: "WITHOUT YOU, I'm as lonely as an abandoned dog on the side of a highway. ... I declare now that I will give my life to you, and if you fail to come to me, I know some part of me will surely die."

I die a little every day. And so I cry.

100 Girls

"WITHOUT YOU, I'm as lonely as an abandoned dog on the side of a highway. I have gift anxiety, even though I don't know when your birthday is. We can spend perfect days shopping and cooking together. I swear I'll never make wisecracks when you scrape your tires against the curb while parallel parking. If you consent to live with me, I'll clean the toilet every week--I'll do it with my tongue if you ask. I will strike the words "hooters" and "love rockets" from my vocabulary. I'll love you, even if your name is Mimi and you want me to pronounce it May-may. I will only pass gas under the covers and only the direst of circumstances. I'll go on a low cholesterol diet, and I won't buy one of those red sports cars when I reach my mid-life crisis. Your parents can come visit us every week--even if your mom is a big witch with a capital "B." You know, and your parents don't have to live in a retirement home because they can come live with us. I declare: I will separate the whites from the colors. I'll learn the mysteries of hot water and cold water washes. I'll never huff and puff while waiting for you to put on your makeup. If you're a cat person, I'll never point out that a dog can save your life from drowning but a cat can't. I will happily go see chic-flicks with you, like "Pride and Prejudice." I'll make a point to try new foods like okra gumbo. I won't curl my nose at vegetables whose awful taste is disguised by putting cheese on it. I pledge to always say "yes" when you ask, "Is my hair looking okay tonight?" I'm going to bring a whole new meaning to the word "cuddle." I'll be thoughtful enough to read your horoscope every day. I'm going to save every birthday card you send me, and I'll actually write you real letters when we're apart. I'm never going to expect you to remember where I left my car keys, and I'll never leave my socks on the floor. With me, you'll find the cap is always on the toothpaste. I'll start wearing those male bikini underwears if you like. My belly button will always be lint-free. I want to full-on kiss your clitoris. It will be the most passionate, intimate experience you've ever have. I declare now that I will give my life to you, and if you fail to come to me, I know some part of me will surely die."

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I just finished watching this movie, and I believe it's unexpectedly going high on my list of all-time favorites. I streamed it from Netflix online expecting to watch some brainless romantic comedy, but I was amazed at how philosophical a movie it truly is. In my mind, it properly defined the power struggle between real men and real women: it defined old-school feminism from the humanist male's perspective.

Furthermore, I really enjoyed this movie's one sex scene. Every other movie I've seen portrays it as either an object to be acquired or some "beautiful romantic perfection." The reality is that the beauty, romanticism, and perfection is in the *reality* of the humor, noises, messiness, pleasure, and utter intimacy of the clumsiness that comes with familiarizing yourself with someone else's body.

This movie represents romantic love as I see it and as I delude myself into believing that I've experienced it. We all fall in love with an ideal just to find out this ideal is NOT the person we're with... and then we fall in love with the reality.