Saturday, June 30, 2007
It's a long story... It has always annoyed me when I ask people about something and they say, "It's a long story." What they really mean is, "I don't want to talk about it." (Which Jeremy actually says.) Whenever someone tells me a story is too long for them to relate to me, I feel rebuffed; as you can tell from the average length of posts on this blog, I love telling long stories, and I love listening to other people's stories too. When someone chooses not to tell me their story, I feel like they're saying I'm not worth the time it takes to explain.
I get similarly annoyed by the Facebook-esque "It's complicated." It makes me feel embarrassed to have straightforward relationships that can be explained to others. Complicated relationships are much more glamorous.
Last night I dreamed that I was marrying a guy I have a crush on at the moment. I felt dissatisfied even as we took our places in the ceremony, because I was unsure of his motives for marrying me. But I felt caught up in a machine bigger than myself. Also, we were reading the vows off a crumpled piece of paper, which was much less romantic than I had always imagined for my wedding ceremony.
"If you just want to have sex with me, you can," I hissed at my groom halfway through the ceremony. "We don't have to be married."
He smiled at me in the roguish, sardonic way he has. "Oh, we'll have sex," he said.
While undeniably thrilling, this did nothing to assuage my deep unease about the whole situation.
Yesterday this same person had told me it was a long story.
I get similarly annoyed by the Facebook-esque "It's complicated." It makes me feel embarrassed to have straightforward relationships that can be explained to others. Complicated relationships are much more glamorous.
Last night I dreamed that I was marrying a guy I have a crush on at the moment. I felt dissatisfied even as we took our places in the ceremony, because I was unsure of his motives for marrying me. But I felt caught up in a machine bigger than myself. Also, we were reading the vows off a crumpled piece of paper, which was much less romantic than I had always imagined for my wedding ceremony.
"If you just want to have sex with me, you can," I hissed at my groom halfway through the ceremony. "We don't have to be married."
He smiled at me in the roguish, sardonic way he has. "Oh, we'll have sex," he said.
While undeniably thrilling, this did nothing to assuage my deep unease about the whole situation.
Yesterday this same person had told me it was a long story.
