I was working on a blog post about how sad and put out I am about that whole “turns out Arne had at least one other girlfriend in L.A. and also a fuckbuddy in New York while you were dating him, fed you an astonishing stream of lies, and probably he’s a sociopath” situation, but I just . . . couldn’t. Jesus, I am so bad at having feelings. Basically my hypothetical blog post can be summed up as follows:
1. What I’m upset about is that there are people in the world who really, truly, do not care one tiny bit about other people. I realize now that he did not see me as a person. I mean, I have a women’s studies degree, I know all about how women are objectified and consumed in media and pop culture, but now I realize that that is what actually happened to me in, like, real life. I was just a thing, and he didn’t care, and it makes me feel so sick inside. This really hit home the other night when I was reading Irigaray (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that is the last pretentious name-drop for this blog post, I swear to god) writing on love. She advocates using the construction “I love to you” rather than “I love you,” as part of an attempt to divorce love from practices of domination and objectification. And as I was reading about this I realized how powerless I had been, and how much I had been objectified. And I felt the world fall away underneath me.
2. I mourn for my childhood self. My childhood self was a hopeless romantic, who really believed in all of that love stuff, and was really hopeful about the future. My current self is cynical and jaded to a fault. My current self has built walls out of the detrius of past relationships and will never let another soul in. My current self does not want to be touched by anybody, ever again. My current self drinks and swears too much. If I am sad about anything, I am sad for the loss of that naive light that I used to have, and I am sad that that little girl’s heart is just going to be smashed into pieces over and over again.
Relevant example from life: Last night, Sam and I went to see Prince Caspian and during the trailers before the movie there was one for that robot movie that’s coming out and I was like, “this movie might actually have the potential to be funny, except for it appears to be about love, and we all know that love is a lie.” Yes, friends, even robot love, that most pure of loves, no longer moves my particular metal heart.
Friend love is better anyway, and when I typed that previous sentence I initially wrote ‘fried’ instead of ‘friend’ which I believe further proves my point. Ahem.
Wall-E? It’s Pixar, by definition it should be sweet.
Was Prince Caspian good? I’m wary of giving up my funbucks to see it.
And as for love; the only love I know is for things. Goddamn I love things.
I also love semi-colons. But my love drives me to abuse them and use them in all the wrong ways.
I liked Prince Caspian. It was pretty good. It was always my least favourite of the books because nothing actually interesting happens (they go to Narnia, there is a battle, they go home), but the movie was pretty good. Although, Prince Caspian himself has this totally stupid and annoying Inigo Montoya accent that I really could have done without. Reepicheep was appropriately awesome, and voiced by Eddie Izzard.
And fried love is the best kind. Last week, I made myself a piece of fried cheese with my dinner. True story.