eros, logos: on possibility and necessity

Sunday, October 29, 2006

on possibility and necessity

My ex is calling me again. I have avoided him for a long time. I don't know how to explain this, but I've always known that any silence between us was temporary. I don't mean that he and I will be together. That simply isn't possible as long as his illness continues--and it does. (And is probably not possible anyway, even if he were whole again.)
When I broke up with him last year, it was really only a case of acknowledging what had been true for some time for us both, that we were friends and not lovers. But when I met someone I found that I could no longer speak to him. The habit of protecting my ex seems to be hard to break, and real friendship demands equality, as does love. Affairs demand secrecy, both for the single and the married one, and I find myself being secretive even here.

There are not many possibilities for how this story will go. I have faith, my lover tells me, faith that this is not wrong, that the future will be like the present.
Such a wish makes sense for him, but I do not think he realises that it would be to confine me to this limbo, this twilight existence I currently have. It is metaphorically a shadowy existence, I am both real and not-real, and it is also literally a twilight existence; I can't sleep. Three AM and I'll be awake.
I am a part of his day world, that is the only time we may have together.

The weekends are very long. I am not used to missing someone. And I can't explain to myself why I should feel the absence of something I have never had, namely, his presence in that way. It's not only a sexual yearning, although I have that, naturally. I miss talking to him. Things will occur to me, things to tell him, things to share with him. I think how much he would like the restaurant I am at, and I feel this pang, to know that we will likely never be there (though he will take his wife there if I recommend it). Or i think of the conversation he and I would be having, while I am out with others. I feel this sense of loss.

This frightens me. I am afraid to think of how I would feel in another month, if I am already this lost.

He tells me his misses me on the weekends. That he thinks 50 times a day of me, almost says my name, opens his mouth to say my name.

I can hardly believe this. I always imagine his weekends, and his nights. I usually know in some detail what he will be doing. They seem so busy and so happy to me, crammed full of wife and family. I always imagine that he has no time to think of me at all. He seemed shocked, when I admitted this. He is always anxious on Monday mornings. If he doesn't hear from me right away, he seems to imagine that i've met someone over the weekend. He tells me that he spends his weekend telling himself it's okay, that if I've met someone it won't matter to him at all . . .then on Monday morning he knows it's not true.

But as I say, there are very few possibilities for how this story ends. I will meet someone else, or I will end with him because I have fallen so deeply that to continue will mean losing too much of myself.
It is possible that he would leave me. But this I think is a very remote possibility. He is happy in his life already, I am something that adds to the sum of his happiness. I never make demands, I am always understanding. I can't make demands: I knew the rules, I chose him anyway. I won't try to change the rules now, to benefit me.

What won't happen will be him and me. And I am amazed--I am amazed because it turns out I would want him for mine. I would want him to leave his family. I can't believe I could want such a thing. It goes completely against my principles, my convictions. I won't ever allow myself to do anything that would threaten his marriage. I told him, for example, long before our relationship changed, that he should not email me on weekends or at night. I longed for his letters then and still do now, even more, but I hated more the thought of intruding on what is his real life. Which does not include me.

I would like to be like the air, I told him, that essential, that necessary. . . and that unnoticed.

But I increasingly find that I want to be noticed, thought of, by him, and that he seems to be becoming necessary to me, although I am necessarily always only inessential to him.

Not all beings are merely possible, but there must exist something the existence of which is necessary. [. . .] we cannot but postulate the existence of some being having of itself its own necessity, and not receiving it from another, but rather causing in others their necessity. This all men speak of as God.
Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica

posted by O @ 23:06


18 Comments:
At 28 October, 2006, T - Another Geek Girl said… I love Atwood. I love you. The past and present sometimes collide in this world and can leave ones head spinning. They meld and dance, memory and dreams. What we hope for and what we have hoped for brush so closely that it becomes hard to tell one from the other. And what is a breath of air when you are drowning anyway? I stood outside and the wind storm sucked the breath right out of my mouth before I could breathe it in. I remember that feeling from somewhere else, a very long time ago. I miss that feeling. At 29 October, 2006, anna said… I empathize and sympathize with what you're feeling. Although I'm not quite experiencing that same level of torment or sense of loss yet, I can already feel it beginning. It seems that once we start feeling this way, it can only mean the beginning of the end. I hope you do whatever brings you most happiness and doesn't cause irreparable damage to others. At 29 October, 2006, learn said… Until I can think of a real comment... Hugs!! Love, Learn At 29 October, 2006, Unknown said… reading that post rehashed what i had a few months back. i will say had. i thought things were going well and there was this understanding between two married people. he fell, i fell and then he never said goodbye. i never made demands such as you as i was completely and utterly laid back with the whole situation. i miss him and yes i will admit that i loved him. it took another man to define when a man gets "scared" to me. i never realized i would have driven him to that state of thinking and would never want him to leave his wife and kids for me. but, secretly deep down...yes...i would have ran off with him in a heartbeat. we were sexually compatible along with mentally. be careful with your feelings. you never know. i can understand and relate. if you ever need an ear or a mouth, please do not hesitate to contact me. At 29 October, 2006, ArtfulDodger said… oh O, I feel your pain and your thoughts as if they are my own, for indeed they are. Lost and found wrapped in riddles and enigmas, that is our lot. Confused, dazed and aware we plunge forward without ourselves and only hope that tomorrow brings more sanity. But it comes, and is strangely like yesterday. Thoughts and big 'ol hugs. At 29 October, 2006, alphagirl said… O, Below is an excerpt from my journal which was written this past Monday. I felt like I was looking in a mirror reading your post...we must take care or ourselves for no one else will in the end. "i think that after all this time...7 years and 7 months that i just might be time to give up on the relationship...but how do you walk away from someone you love - that you know loves you but that daily makes you just cry from frustration and lack of attention and just plain selfishness...i was describing to a friend his actions which i think always speak louder than the words that you say..he always takes calls when i am speaking - my friends who know of him and i do not think he is worth this pain and sadness i feel and how lonely he makes me feel...it just needs to be done…finally. i just need to figure out how to let go...which might be one of the hardest things i have done in a long time..before i lose more of myself." At 29 October, 2006, Karl Elvis said… I'm been the him in something like this. I wish I had some wisdom from that experience to offer, some insight. All I can say is that from here, too, it hurts to love and not be able to truly have. sigh. At 29 October, 2006, Unknown said… "Would like to be the air" what an incredible piece of wisdom... so insightful to so many when it is phrased that way. At 31 October, 2006, learn said… K this isn't my real comment either, but just wanted to say: Dude, there's like this totally psycho-ass black bat thing flappin its wings around your page... Sweet! C'est l'halloweeeen! Kisses, Learn At 02 November, 2006, O said… dearest T, I wouldn't miss that feeling. The feeling of not being able to breathe-- love always O At 02 November, 2006, O said… Anna, thank you. -- No worries; nothing will hurt others. I'm expert in that. I prefer to hurt myself first. love O At 02 November, 2006, O said… dearest gracie, yeah, like that. Well, one might not make demands, but love is a demand and breaks shit down....for everyone. thank you, really. we'll talk soon. with love O At 02 November, 2006, O said… alphagirl, really, there is so much in what you wrote which is like something I have thought also--it's scary... we must take care of ourselves for no one else will in the end This is the centre, the awful ring of truth I come back to...like biting on tinfoil---horrid. True. No choice love O At 02 November, 2006, O said… devil my sweet, so good to see you back! I miss you...it's not me, it's margaret atwood, variations on the word sleep--i think? sigh yours O At 02 November, 2006, O said… K, it sucks. I am always aware that in many, many ways it's way worse for him. Thank you--really love O At 02 November, 2006, O said… learn my darling, Thank you. And especially for noticing the bats! xoxoxo speak soon? your own, O At 03 November, 2006, Anonymous said… 3:00 AM and I'll be awake . . the weekends are very long . . things will occur to me, things to tell him (her), things to share with him (her). . . anxious on Monday mornings. It is like I am looking in the mirror. At 25 November, 2006, Anonymous said… O Oh thank you for stopping by my blog - I am delighted that something resonanted withing, for I surely found much here that echoed in me. You've the soul of a poet, and Atwood's Variations on Sleep is a lovely reference. I am saddened that you suffer for the attentions of this man - though I do not doubt that you adore him, I do hope that you are getting what you need from this relationship. I, too, once waited for a man I loved. Waited for more. I'll definitely keep reading. best wishes, Meg
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