I like to proclaim that I find relationship beginnings absolutely dreamy. If I know you, I've probably asked you stories about how you met your significant other. They are always such happy little tales. Always following a predictable path of meeting, falling in love, getting together. I'll ooh and aah along with you and cheer at the appropriate junctions. I am the types to claim that rom-coms are my favorite movies. And nothing can be more perfect than Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks finally getting together (no matter the story).
But deep inside, I am a sour puss. I am skeptical about relationships. I don't think they are made to last at all. I put an expiry date on my relationships. And on most relationships around me. And what really interests me more than beginning stories are the tales of how relationships ended. I am morbid like that. It's hard to come by break up tales. No ones wants to talk about it. They are either mean little 'dumpers' or sad little 'dumpees' and are not interested in sharing either story.
But when I do get a chance to listen to one, I lap it up.
You learn so much about a person from the way they end a relationship, don't you?
There are ones that ghost and run away.
Ones that sit you down and talk about it.
Ones that send someone else to do it.
Ones that do something wrong intentionally so you'll find out and be the one to end it.
Scheming ones, innocent ones, honest ones, deceiving ones, brave ones, scared ones. Quite a variety. It's not the person though. It's the relationship that pushes them to end it the way they do. Because, even for the same person, no two break ups are ever the same.
I've had the privilege of being in both situations at different points - Yes, I've dumped and I've been dumped. Both hurt equally, trust me. A break up, no matter who initiates it, is eventually an intensely personal journey. A very lonely one. One that feels like the end of the world. Like you are in absolute darkness and can't figure your way of it it. The heart ache that accompanies, both physical as well as emotional. A pain so intense that you sometimes wonder if you'll ever be able to smile again. And yet, you slowly make your way out of that darkness. You find the light, you smile again. You don't turn back, fearing the darkness will envelop you again. But there will be times when you do turn back.. and crawl in to the dark space briefly. To remember the relationship, the lover, the happy times. And wallow in it briefly before getting on with the mundane.
And nothing explores this crawling back in time, space and memory like a movie I saw last night. Gaspar Noe's Love. To me, it seemed to be a movie exploring a relationship primarily through sex. A man drudging through his monotonous life is unexpectedly made to crawl back in to the darkness and recollect his relationship with an ex lover. A relation dominated by just sex and sentiment. "Sentimental Sexuality" is the phrase I read somewhere. The memories are arranged reverse chronologically. Almost. We are taken from the end of the relationship to the beginning.. with erratic jumps in the middle. Every instance represented by one or more sex scenes. Sex between the lovers, together with others, separately with others. Hot and heavy sex scenes. Portrayed beautifully. In ways that made even dark alley blow jobs seem almost romantic. A disturbing movie on many levels. A haunting one. One that fucks with your mind. One that explores negative emotions like obsession, jealousy, and sabotage just as easily as it explores the positive ones like attraction, obsession (yes!), and love.
I was intrigued by the intensity of the love in the movie. I was drawn to the obsession. I lusted after the chemistry between the characters, the sultriness of the female lead.
I am too guarded to experience emotions on that level. Too insecure to love with reckless abandon.
But one can always aspire to feel so deeply, to love so intensely, to be consumed so completely by passion, can't one?
But deep inside, I am a sour puss. I am skeptical about relationships. I don't think they are made to last at all. I put an expiry date on my relationships. And on most relationships around me. And what really interests me more than beginning stories are the tales of how relationships ended. I am morbid like that. It's hard to come by break up tales. No ones wants to talk about it. They are either mean little 'dumpers' or sad little 'dumpees' and are not interested in sharing either story.
But when I do get a chance to listen to one, I lap it up.
You learn so much about a person from the way they end a relationship, don't you?
There are ones that ghost and run away.
Ones that sit you down and talk about it.
Ones that send someone else to do it.
Ones that do something wrong intentionally so you'll find out and be the one to end it.
Scheming ones, innocent ones, honest ones, deceiving ones, brave ones, scared ones. Quite a variety. It's not the person though. It's the relationship that pushes them to end it the way they do. Because, even for the same person, no two break ups are ever the same.
I've had the privilege of being in both situations at different points - Yes, I've dumped and I've been dumped. Both hurt equally, trust me. A break up, no matter who initiates it, is eventually an intensely personal journey. A very lonely one. One that feels like the end of the world. Like you are in absolute darkness and can't figure your way of it it. The heart ache that accompanies, both physical as well as emotional. A pain so intense that you sometimes wonder if you'll ever be able to smile again. And yet, you slowly make your way out of that darkness. You find the light, you smile again. You don't turn back, fearing the darkness will envelop you again. But there will be times when you do turn back.. and crawl in to the dark space briefly. To remember the relationship, the lover, the happy times. And wallow in it briefly before getting on with the mundane.
And nothing explores this crawling back in time, space and memory like a movie I saw last night. Gaspar Noe's Love. To me, it seemed to be a movie exploring a relationship primarily through sex. A man drudging through his monotonous life is unexpectedly made to crawl back in to the darkness and recollect his relationship with an ex lover. A relation dominated by just sex and sentiment. "Sentimental Sexuality" is the phrase I read somewhere. The memories are arranged reverse chronologically. Almost. We are taken from the end of the relationship to the beginning.. with erratic jumps in the middle. Every instance represented by one or more sex scenes. Sex between the lovers, together with others, separately with others. Hot and heavy sex scenes. Portrayed beautifully. In ways that made even dark alley blow jobs seem almost romantic. A disturbing movie on many levels. A haunting one. One that fucks with your mind. One that explores negative emotions like obsession, jealousy, and sabotage just as easily as it explores the positive ones like attraction, obsession (yes!), and love.
I was intrigued by the intensity of the love in the movie. I was drawn to the obsession. I lusted after the chemistry between the characters, the sultriness of the female lead.
I am too guarded to experience emotions on that level. Too insecure to love with reckless abandon.
But one can always aspire to feel so deeply, to love so intensely, to be consumed so completely by passion, can't one?