"I can tell you what (the current vampire craze in popular culture) is about...It's about EVIL! There are bands of vampires in New York City--LIVING in New York City!--and there are advertisers--no, I'm serious here!--who are just CATERING to them and...."
(I regret that I am unable to offer you the remainder of the quoted statement, or the replies of the rest of the group being addressed, as upon hearing the word "EVil", I was seized with a sudden violent urge to leave the room, an urge to which I succumbed instantly. Anyhow...)
I do not believe that I am stepping too far over the line in saying, "What a frickin MORON." Because in my opinion, that is a patently moronic statement, for several different values of moronicity. First of all--attempting to demonize a passing pop-culture fad is the hallmark of an uptight mind. In fact, attempting to claim that ANYTHING--any belief system, any lifestyle choice, any inborn quality, any random action--is based in EEEEEEEVil, should be the Godwin's Law of any discussion. "It comes from EEEEEEEEVIL," in my book, translates as "I don't like it, it scares/disturbs/disquiets me, and I cannot articulate the reason in a reasoned adult fashion because this is a reaction based purely in emotion, superstition, and a stunted sense of the workings of the universe. Therefore I pronounce it bad, and demonize it and all who are not as offended by it as I am."
Also, I'm sorry...reality, anyone? Vampires living in New York, catered to by advertisers? What a frickin MORON. Those are idiot Hot Topic kids who've read one too many Twilight books. The only EEEEEEEEvil they represent is the EEEEEEEvil of unthinking consumerism, faddishness, and the well-marketed urge to "do your own thing" by buying exactly the same trend-item that everyone else buys to show that they're "doing their own thing". And that's not EEEEEEEVil, that's just STOOOOOOOOpid.
On a related note, how an evangelical Christian thinks that exhibiting this level of spiritual paranoia--or rather, announcing it in reply to another co-worker's perfectly innocuous Seinfeldian question of "And what's with these kids and the whole zombie/vampire thing?"--how he believes that this response is going to assist in his stated goal of converting me, I fail to grasp.
But because it was offered as a statement based in the speaker's religious beliefs, rather than a random chunk of crackpottery from the fringey set, I had to keep my mouth shut. Which is sad, because no matter where it comes from, it's the same moronic statement; having to ignore it and silence myself, because of what someone believes about their God, only legitimizes it in their eyes, even as it puts me further off the notion of belief as a whole.
And frankly, that's a notion that's already stretched a little thin around here these days. CR is coming to town in a couple of weeks; we've talked online quite a bit, and today he decided to tell me exactly how sick he really is. I knew a bit already, but the whole picture was much more grim. His list of ailments is extensive; high blood pressure, diabetes, vascular disease, sleep apnea, lung problems, kidney problems. Since I know him well enough to know he'll resist any changes to his diet or exercise habits, I've pretty well been forced to conclude that any attempt to plan a long-term future with him would be an exercise in futility. I know that's probably true for anyone--after all, anything can happen to any of us at any time--but in his case it's pretty much a certainty that I'll outlive him.
So here we are: he's had all these insights and totally turned around his view of relationships, of me, of what our life together could be--all well and good mentally, but physically it sounds like he's not in any sort of condition to join me in any of the things I want to do with the rest of my life. (Put it this way: we were discussing changes we both needed to make, and I mentioned, in the context of little things we could try, "taking a walk in the morning". His reply, after a series of large-font "ha ha ha ha ha"'s, was "not w this breathing--i would definitely die". After a while, he agreed, with a few stipulations--but...wow.) If a short morning walk is beyond his ability at this point, I don't think I'm exaggerating matters when I wonder just how long he's gonna be around.
And, as I told him, I'm not prepared to deal with losing ANOTHER partner. I told him I'm gonna do everything in my power to keep him around, but as I said: I know this man. He's a lot like me; we're both stubborn as hell, and we both like the things we like--full stop. Losing the fried foods and the sweets would be a good idea for both of us; but each of us needs to make that committment. I have--though right now I'm in a bit of a holding pattern til the Happy Campers leave--but I can't demand that CR do the same... and as stubborn as he is, I don't believe he will do it on his own.
I'm finding it a little hard to keep from being cynical here. I mean, let's recap, shall we? Let's for a moment assume the existence of God or someone like him...1991, I meet JP and each of us feels an instant connection, but various issues--pride, anger, miscommunication--keep us apart for nearly three years. We steal seven months sneaking around, then live together for eleven blissful months...whereupon he dies. 1997, I meet CR, and again each of us feels an instant connection to the other. But he's got a lot of baggage from his family and from past relationships, baggage that has accumulated to make him a giant asshole. Regardless, we keep together in an on-and-off relationship til 1999, when we move in together--but at no time does his assholeishness subside. He lies to me, he cheats on me, he emotionally abuses me; finally, in 2002, two months after we married, he leaves me for another woman, in a burst of emotional cruelty that destroys what little self-esteem I'd managed to keep til then. Six years later he calls me to apologize; we start to talk again, and he tells me all he's been through; he talks about all the revelations he's had about his past, his behavior, and the way he treated me. He apologizes, many many times, and tells me that he never wants to be without me again, for the rest of his life. But circumstances--largely financial, but also connected to the Happy Campers I'm harboring in the interim--keep us apart for several more months....Meanwhile, during the seven years apart, he's neglected his health to the point that, by the time he makes it back to me, he's got several potentially-lethal disease processes working; has no health insurance; and--being frank here--probably won't live another ten years without some serious medical intervention he can't afford. Somehow I don't see health-care reform progressing far enough to make possible the kind of interventions he'd need.
So once again, barring a miracle, I will very likely preside at the death of another man I love more than I can even describe. Someone, someday, is going to need to explain to me how this is even remotely fair. I've had, in my life, four major relationships (relationships where, at any point, I could see myself spending the rest of my life with that person). I broke off two--my first boyfriend and my first marriage--and in neither of the breakups was I at all proud of my actions. For a long time I considered JP's death to be some sort of celestial retaliation for the way I'd handled those breakups, or for loving him too much, perhaps--but now, thinking about the future, I find no explanation at all. I would like to believe that my old age will not be spent alone; I would like the luxury of believing that the man I love will be there on the front porch, side-by-side in our rocking chairs. In a way--and yes, I realize this is the same kind of childish, magical thinking I was railing against only a few paragraphs ago--but in a way I feel like losing JP should somehow be enough; that the universe or God or whoever, before it takes away another love of mine, should take into account what I've already been through. I know it doesn't work that way, but knowing how this relationship will likely play out, and the kind of grief that comes after, has a very good chance of making me really bitter.
And I know, I'm letting my worries about the future cloud the present; I'm robbing myself of the happiness I could have, even if it is for only a short time...but dammit, I feel completely powerless to help here. I can nudge him in the right direction, mainly by going in that same direction myself--but his health issues have gone much further than I'd guessed, and I don't think little nudges will be enough. Maybe seven years ago--before he'd spent half a decade living with a family he described as "like the Klumps from the Nutty Professor movies", eating what they ate, in the quantities they ate it...yeah, I'm angry there too; if he'd been here, or with someone responsible, when his health problems started to manifest, something could have been done, maybe. I'm not being fair, I know--but as I said before, how is this situation fair at all to me? How is it when many 39-year-old women are married and have kids, and have at least the possibility of spending their later years with the man they love, how is it fair at all that I've already lost one, and am pretty likely to lose another? How is it fair that I've done my damndest to make up for my past mistakes; that I've fought against all the pressure for "training" one's partner to behave in a female-approved way, which so many of my female acquaintances have subscribed to--in short, that I've done everything in my power to be a good girlfriend and to let my partner be exactly who he is, without trying to change him--and for all my effort, my great reward is to spend the rest of my life alone?
I have to say: I'm furious about all this. For one thing, CR doesn't deserve it; not that anybody does, but there's a lot he wanted out of life that he's not going to get to do. And for another thing--I've said this about losing JP, and I'll say it again about this--it's just not fair. And yeah, I know, "nobody said life was fair", and I know I've been infinitely luckier than most people, so I have no grounds to complain--but it feels even more unfair somehow that on the few occasions that my life HASN'T been completely charmed, the bad things have been bad in precisely the way I have always feared the most, and in precisely the way from which I can least recover.
My co-worker, he of the Eeeeevil New York vampire contingent, can talk all he wants about God's great Plan, and all those other things...but the older I get, and the more I live, the more I believe that one of two things is the case: either there is no "great plan", or if there IS a plan, great or otherwise, it's somewhere been decided that I am destined to spend my life alone. It's easier to accept randomness than to justify paranoia, so I'm leaning toward the no-Plan option; but in a way, that's almost worse, since it puts me in conflict with the beliefs of practically everyone....which, in its way, is the same as being alone.
