Red Hornet (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} redhornet) wrote,@ 2006-08-25 19:14:00 |
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It can’t be true!
According to the Daily Dish, Bruce and Patti have split after almost twenty years of marriage because Bruce has allegedly fallen for another redheaded woman—a redheaded September 11th widow.
no no no no no no NO!
Part of what draws me so deeply to Bruce is that I recognize the arc of his life in mine, especially the modern fairy tale romance part, the part of his story that provides my own allegory, the part that says: If Bruce was in his late thirties before he found true love, then there is still hope for me.
Now what?
People have told me “you will find him” since I was twelve years old, which until recent repetitions of “it will be over soon,” stood as my most hated supportive statement within the right-thing-to-say category. My internal response to the ‘you-will-find-him’ people is “i might not,” which helps me survive within the realities of being me; the truth is I really would like to find him but I might not, there is a lot about me that may be desirable but I have a lot stacked against me, too, and to the ‘everybody-has-something-against-them’ people I say put an available sexy gimpy woman against an available sexy non-gimpy woman in a line up and just watch what happens, watch, and here it starts bordering on self-pitying so I stop thinking about it.
But Bruce’s fairy tale gives me hope, and allows me to stretch beyond the realities to the “just maybes.” It happened for him, maybe it can happen for me, too. Now, even my fantasy is thwarted.
I am the first to admit that I think that it is possible to truly love more than one person in a lifetime, and Bruce would be the first to admit that he is flawed, and human, and male. I think that we’d both admit that once a tormented soul, always a tormented soul and that this, really, is at the core of all of the life choices that we make. We can live in the church of pure joy and feel it and believe it and savor it, but at the core of us is torment. This dissonance is what makes the joy so wonderful.
It could be, simply, that the diva's Dish is untrue and Thursday was a slow dish-day. But if she’s right, then our arc is changing shape. I’m not sure if I’m ready for this. Not yet.
According to the Daily Dish, Bruce and Patti have split after almost twenty years of marriage because Bruce has allegedly fallen for another redheaded woman—a redheaded September 11th widow.
no no no no no no NO!
Part of what draws me so deeply to Bruce is that I recognize the arc of his life in mine, especially the modern fairy tale romance part, the part of his story that provides my own allegory, the part that says: If Bruce was in his late thirties before he found true love, then there is still hope for me.
Now what?
People have told me “you will find him” since I was twelve years old, which until recent repetitions of “it will be over soon,” stood as my most hated supportive statement within the right-thing-to-say category. My internal response to the ‘you-will-find-him’ people is “i might not,” which helps me survive within the realities of being me; the truth is I really would like to find him but I might not, there is a lot about me that may be desirable but I have a lot stacked against me, too, and to the ‘everybody-has-something-against-them’ people I say put an available sexy gimpy woman against an available sexy non-gimpy woman in a line up and just watch what happens, watch, and here it starts bordering on self-pitying so I stop thinking about it.
But Bruce’s fairy tale gives me hope, and allows me to stretch beyond the realities to the “just maybes.” It happened for him, maybe it can happen for me, too. Now, even my fantasy is thwarted.
I am the first to admit that I think that it is possible to truly love more than one person in a lifetime, and Bruce would be the first to admit that he is flawed, and human, and male. I think that we’d both admit that once a tormented soul, always a tormented soul and that this, really, is at the core of all of the life choices that we make. We can live in the church of pure joy and feel it and believe it and savor it, but at the core of us is torment. This dissonance is what makes the joy so wonderful.
It could be, simply, that the diva's Dish is untrue and Thursday was a slow dish-day. But if she’s right, then our arc is changing shape. I’m not sure if I’m ready for this. Not yet.
