Saturday, October 30, 2010

Maybe I Do

- I really love you.
- (...)
- Did you hear me?
- Who were you talking to, me or the puppy?
- You want to take away my freedom.
- Freedom to ruin your life. Freedom to ruin your love.

(...) indicates speechless astonishment.

Her freedom: just what she does with her freedom I learn in the course of time after our marriage. She goes on trips, explained improbably. Sleeps some weekends alone in Budapest while I remain in the countryside. I adjust my expectations. I stay, but I foresee less of a future with her. I am more in the present, in the garden, reading, drinking coffee, listening to the birds sing.

Her freedom is to work as a sort of escort prostitute courtesan. I find myself in a world I don't know much about. A world she knows intimately you might say and keeps hidden from me. Strangely though she is not concerned when I find out about it. Emails left open on her computer from men in London, Oslo, love language, sex language. So I know about this world. It looks like she is crazily pretending I don't know about it. But I discover she considers it a delicate matter, a political matter, she can't talk about with me about, "until things are better between us." I gather she is used to this game being exposed and used to being allowed to continue, or to get away with continuing while claiming to have given it up. In fact the day comes when she tells me about it openly, but insists she has left it all behind. Then she changes her mind. Then changes her mind again. She assumes I will always come back to her. Be her companion. Two years, until the American Resident's Visa is granted her. Told me as much.

Freedom to ruin your love.

A woman likes you because you are tall, smart, rich, from a good family, or for your nationality. All these things might be good in general but they tell you nothing about yourself in particular. Are you unhealthy tall? Smart in words not deeds? Rich but selfish with your money? From a good family but the worst member in it? American but malicious and a snob? I think the reason I am liked is not important, probably wrong anyway, as long as I can use it to do something important.

She had said to me:

- I'm looking for an American to marry.
- No problem, I'll marry you.
- Why? What do you want from me? You don't like me. I can see it.
- You I like, not what you do.
- What do I do?
- You won't take marriage seriously.
- You don't take it seriously. You've said it is only a legality.
- I said the legal documents are only legal documents. Substance is important not words.
- What do you like about me?
- You are easy to get along with.
- I'm serious. Tell me.
- Alright. You don't like me much, if you think about it, but I know I can rely on your wanting to like me. No, that's not right. I rely on you wanting to train me, on your efforts to rage me into a shape more to your liking. It's your nest building, house building habit. You try to enslave me, I resist. I've got a friend as long as it lasts.
- Why would I bother?
- Because you know I know you. You don't have to put on a show. And you could possibly build something, build a life, if you stopped playing tricks long enough.
- What do you mean?
- You know what I mean.
- Maybe I do.