hi. I had once posted an article wondering why i got so involved with this show and so upset when i thought Samay might die. (Why people why). Most of you talked about the escapism that such shows provide. Today i read this article and immediately wanted to share it with all of you. Its from a book called "Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim". Here's the article:
On a summer evening in Paris, Hugh and I (the author) went to see "The End of the Affair". I had trouble keeping my eyes open because I was tired and not completely engaged. Hugh had trouble keeping his eyes open because they were essentially swollen shut: he sobbed from beginning to end.
Looking back, I should have known better than to accompany Hugh to a love story. Such movies are always a danger, as unlike battling aliens or going undercover to track a serial killer, falling in love is something most adults have actually experienced at some point in their lives. (š) The theme is universal and encourages the viewer to make a number of unhealthy comparisons, ultimately raising the question "Why can't our lives be like that?" Its a box best left unopened, and its avoidance explains the continued popularity of vampire epics and marial arts extravaganzas.
"The End of the Affair" made me look like an absolute toad. I'm not as unfeeling as Hugh accuses me of being, but things change once you've been together for more than 10 years. They rarely make movies about long-term couples, and for good reason: our lives are boring. The courtship had its moments, but now we've become the predictable Part II no one in his right mind would ever pay to see. ("Look, they're opening their electric bill!"). Hugh and I have been together for so long that in order to arouse extraordinary passion, we need to engage in physical combat. (š)
Call me unimaginative, but I still can't thinl of anyone else I'd rather be with. On our worst days, I figure things will work themselves out. Otherwise, I don't really give our problems much thought. Neither of us would publicly display affection; we're just not that type. We can't profess love without talking through hand puppets, and we'd never sit down consciously to discuss our relationship. These, to me, are good things. They were fine with Hugh as well, until he saw that damned movie and was reminded that he has other options.
The picture ended at about ten, and afterward we went for coffee. I was ready to wipe the movie out of my mind, but Hugh was still under its spell. He looked as though his life had not only passed him by but paused along the way to spit in his face. Our coffee arived, and I encouraged him to look on the bright side. "Listen," I said "we maybe dont live in wartime London [the setting of the film] but Paris is a pretty close second. We both love bacon and country music, what more could you possibly want?"
What more could he want? It was an incredibly stupid question and when he failed to answer, I was reminded of just how lucky I truly am. Movie characters might chase each other through the fog or race down the stairs of burning buildings, but thats for beginners. Real love amounts to withholding the truth, even when you're offered the perfect opportunity to hurt someone's feelings. I wanted to say something to this effect, but my hand puppets were back home in their drawer. Instead, I pulled my chair a few inches closer, and we sat silently at our little table, looking for all the world like two people in love.
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