sublingua

(Be present.)

(It's past.)

(Go there now.)

�The stereotype is the word repeated without any magic, any enthusiasm, as though it were natural, as though by some miracle this recurring word were adequate on each occasion for different reasons, as though to imitate could no longer be sensed as an imitation: an uncontested word that claims consistency and is unaware of its own insistence. Nietzsche has observed that �truth� is only the solidification of old metaphors. So in this regard the stereotype is the present path of �truth��� --Roland Barthes

The picture I got from Rebecca of Matthew was an old one, not terribly insightful, bitter, narcissistic in nature. She was interested in portraying herself as the victim and Matthew as the victimizer, just as Matthew had been interested, telling me about her earlier, in portraying himself as the victim and Rebecca as the victimizer. In truth, they were just a couple of stupid kids who didn�t know anything and ended up fucking everything up. And because they were too young and too inexperienced to know how to fix any of it, they ended up blaming each other and denying responsibility (or, in Matthew's case, having to have his parents step in to take responsibility, as though it were some schoolyard brawl, which, considering Matthew was 22 at the time, was a pretty fucked up thing for them to do. Why didn't they let him learn from his mistakes by insisting that he face the consequences of his actions? Were they worried that his credit history might forever be fucked? If so, they should have worried a bit less about his financial status, and a bit more about his mental status and level of maturity. But looking at their and his actions in this situation, it's no wonder that he's ended up as immature as he is, so quick to run away from difficulties, so unable to face consequences when things go wrong. If mom and dad are always stepping in to stop him from having to field his own troubles, things will always be this way. Until they aren't, I mean, and that's going to be a hard lesson at 27 or 28, when graduate school brings inevitable difficulties into his life and there aren't going to be parent-based solutions.) It was such an early 20�s thing to do, though, Matthew and Rebecca's having fucked everything up and then having ended up hating each other. Their still being bitter towards each other five years later is suspect though. Not that their experience wasn't intense, but neither of them seems to have learned anything from it. She is still interested in re-hashing the whole event, telling everyone who'll listen just what an asshole Matthew was, and how terrible his parents treated her. And he is still interested in making sure that he is seen as the innocent victim of this vindictive, violent, shrewish woman, and still just as interested, sadly, in finding another one just like her.

But that said, I could see, talking to her on the phone, how Matthew would be attracted to a woman like Rebecca: On the phone, she was outgoing, friendly, has the ability to seem very forthcoming without being so at all, doesn�t hesitate to extend herself (reminding me of grandfather�s warning to never trust anyone who is always smiling). But underneath that veneer of self-confidence hides a woman who describes herself proudly as a slut, whose sense of morality doesn�t jibe, who admits to a total stranger a history of molestation and physical abuse at the hands of her father but who can�t connect that event to her own devaluation in terms of a reduction of her self to nothing more than a sexual being. I felt as sorry for her as I ever felt for Matthew�and yet knew that I would never get involved with someone like that. Because someone like that? Has no conscience. Has no empathy and no ability to gain any. Is empty inside. There's truly nothing to her, and so it makes sense that Matthew would want to be with her: She would never expect any kind of growth or maturity from him either.

So then the question is not important perhaps, but maybe it should be asked anyway: Did Matthew consciously take advantage of that, of her? He knew her history of abuse if I did. Did he choose her because she was vulnerable?

My answer, perhaps only based on instinct, from knowing Matthew a little bit now, would have to be: No, not consciously. But perhaps there was some unconscious advantage-taking going on.

I say this with some instinct, knowing that Matthew is often manipulative without being able to correctly judge or gauge the consequences of his manipulative acts. A relationship with Rebecca was trouble and he headed straight for it not knowing that trouble can be serious. (Another consequence of mom and dad's always stepping in to save the day is that trouble never leads to some consequence that they don't micromanage or manipulate to teach any lesson that they decide on. And I have a feeling that a lot of those lessons ended with, "Do you know how bad this makes us look to people in the church/community/family?") But I also would answer no, that Matthew didn't consciously take advantage of Rebecca, based on some experience too, I suppose, that comes from having been with Dave all those years and not realizing that�having had a history similar to Rebecca's�I was always choosing to be a nonsexual being, not a hypersexual being as Rebecca chose. The choice to be nonsexual necessitated becoming involved with a man whom I knew was definitely not interested in my being sexual (and, in fact, who actively discouraged it). And it was nearly fifteen years before I realized this, though it was there, written all over my life. So, I can�t imagine that six months�or the intervening five years�were enough, have been enough, for either Rebecca or Matthew to realize and understand the sad parts that they played--and continue to play--in each other�s lives.

But there still is the Matthew. I would still guess at a history of abuse in his own family, though it is something he denies when asked directly. I remember Beth telling me that she used to have to inform some of her clients�some in their 30�s and 40�s�that, yes, they had grown up with alcoholic parents. So I can imagine Matthew, years from now, after some breakdown or another "episode," in some psychiatrist�s office, hearing for the first time that, yes, mom and dad were emotionally abusive. I imagine too that the abuse was as subtle and mostly consisted of either making fun of or withholding love or attention or understanding from a child who was sensitive enough to be hurt by it. What else explains why would he be looking for the Rebecca-type--someone with expectations so low that he feels able to meet them--over and over? Why else would he think that the attention Magdalene and I gave him was equivalent to making fun of him? Why would he be crippled with that much self-doubt? Why else would his sense of self worth fluctuate between the feeling that he is hated, fated to be alone, and the feeling that he is more intelligent and more important that other people and therefore justified in delivering judgment on them?

I told Matthew once that I thought he was a sensitive adult and said that he must have been a really sensitive child. He agreed to this with an uncharacteristic vehemence. Then he told me this story about his father: Once, when he was about four or five, he watched out a window as his wading pool was getting blown around in the wind. He was afraid that it would blow away or that something might happen to it so he ran and got his father. He wanted his father to do something, to bring the wading pool inside. His father thought it was Matthew�s responsibility to do something, as he had left it outside. �Oh, he helped me,� Matthew said, excusing, disguising, his father�s actions. I suppose they brought it inside. But it made some indelible mark on this child, this sensitive boy. And I imagine that there were many other times when things like this happened, when mom or dad could�ve done something to protect that sensitivity and not denigrate it, but chose not to, and created over years a young man who may never be able to express that sensitivity, or share a sense of intimacy and trust, without feeling some sense of guilt and shame and self-hatred.

And I�m crying as I write this out, because it fills me with as much sadness now as it did when Matthew told me this story, though I can�t truly explain why. I felt nothing for him in all of this until I wrote that story of his interaction with his father. But when you know something like that, it's hard not to see how many of his actions are inevitable, and it's impossible not to be saddened about this.

As for my own actions, I do regret many of them where Matthew is concerned. Not all of them, but I do regret that I wasn�t a better friend to him so that he might see how real friendships can work in a better world, so that he might be convinced somehow that we are all worth something, worth getting close to, worth getting to know better. And it was foolish of me, but it meant something to me too, this possibility. I remember the first "falling out" (his term, not mine) we had, months ago. In a phone call the next day, he said several things, but one thing will always be stuck in my head. He told me that he had thought that he and I had a friendship like he had with Dean. Dean was a pastor in his church. (And I realize writing that how I have just completely avoided the subject of religion in all of this, without which any explanation couldn't possibly be even remotely complete.) And it was only thinking over this later that I realized that Matthew had placed me in some role and ascribed to me some responsibility that I was in no way prepared to live up to. I could never feel competent enough to take responsibility for anyone else's spiritual development. (But then, writing that, I'm forced to wonder if we aren't all responsible for each other's spiritual development in some fundamental ways.) But I duly tried feeling guilty for having let him down, despite my never having known that this was his expectation of me. (I'm sorry, Matthew. If you ever do read this, know that I didn't know, couldn't have known. But that I also couldn't have possibly fulfilled the role you tried to put me into. Despite that, I'm still sorry that I let you down--though I imagine that you allow it to barely even register in a life that's already filled with such disappointment in others.) So I have been trying to leave behind the guilt, but I will carry away regret, and sadness, and sorrow. And I will carry away something else too: I will always carry with me the sense that Matthew was a reminder to me of what is essential, what is real. (And I realize that it was probably a burden to him to have had me tell him that, but it seemed an important thing at the time to express.) But what remains is the understanding that the essential, real thing about my friendship with Matthew has turned out to be that, though I have tried my best, tried to keep my heart open to him and to his suffering even when it hurts to do so, and to feel that hurt and move past it in an effort to keep alive some connection, that still, still I failed. I failed someone who should never have had to deal with another failure of a friendship. (There are, sadly, so many reasons or excuses that I can attribute that failure to and all of them reside in me.)

But seventeen pages later, I'm just going to admit that, though I may know more, I don�t understand any more than I did when I began writing. And it�s late. And I�ve written as much of this as I can or want to. And I�m tired. And it hurts.

But I will say this: I'm sorry, Matthew. I'm sorry that so many of us have failed you, that I failed you. I'm sorry that so many of us will continue to fail you, that I would continue to fail you. I'm sorry that I can't make up for any of it. I'd be willing to do just about anything if it would mean that your life could always be what you want it to be, that you had always gotten what you needed, that you had always felt loved and wanted and valued in the past, that you would continue to always feel loved and wanted and valued in the future, and that you would always feel a sense of belonging so that you might feel now that you are important to others. So I'm sorry, Matthew, sorry that any of it ever went wrong.

And I'm crying again.

"Never let go of the fiery sadness called desire."

retreat or surrender

More lies:
Waking Sleeping Demons II - Sunday, Oct. 30, 2011
Waking Sleeping Demons - Saturday, Oct. 29, 2011
time - Friday, May. 20, 2011
- - Wednesday, Oct. 06, 2010
The Return - Tuesday, Oct. 05, 2010