drunkencynic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- love means never having to say you're sorry? Jealousy was imbued in us from the start. We were not conditioned to it, we did not cultivate it. We are not supposed to be polygamous. I just watched Frida, a movie that I was very skeptical about to begin with, but ended up really enjoying. The visuals are stunning. Absolutely. I was so impressed with the way the cinematography meshed perfectly with her art and style. They had that weird little animation/collage thing going, and the colors were brilliant, and the music was gorgeous... But what really sparked my interest was the love affair between Diego and Frida. She married him fully aware of the fact that he was, as he put it, "physiologically incapable of fidelity." So did it surprise her when he was fucking his models constantly? Of course it did. Did she hate it? Of course she did. Don't give me this bullshit about how it's loyalty that matters, staying true to each other in your hearts and minds, that's complete shit. Sex and love are inextricably intertwined, and if you give that to someone, you are also giving them a little part of you. There are those who have mastered the art of separating the two, but they are dead to the world anyway. I don't give a fuck about the supposed 'scientific evidence' that men are indeed 'physiologically incapable of fidelity'. Who do you think had the bright idea to investigate that? Apparently men are supposed to be injecting their seed into everything with a vagina so the world can be peopled. But these are not cavemen times, and I'm willing to bet that there were pissed-off mates in those days too. The world does not need more peopleing, and love has become not just tangible, but the stuff of poetry, the stuff of life, really. I say that I don't believe in love, but I say that as a spurned lover. As a newly rediscovered cynic. Love is the driving force behind everything. Why do we want to succeed in life? So we can find love. Money? Money is superfluous, the muck on the windshield. You can't buy love, but you can sure approximate it when you're rich. Oh, god, I sound like I'm about to burst into 'Love is a many-splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love...' Why am I so heated on the topic? Because I've been there. It doesn't matter how 'forward thinking' you are, how radical your morals are. If the person you love is fucking someone else, you're gonna hate it. Even if you don't show it, you're gonna loathe the day you ever said it was okay. That's what happened with Heidi, JR, and I. Heidi thought she was being 'free', and 'open', and 'radical', and 'smart' when she told him it was okay if the two of us messed around. "He'll do it anyway, so why not be okay with it?" was her logic. I know because she told me. But the truth is, no. He wouldn't have done it anyway. And by setting it up this way she had no one to blame but herself. And what could be more miserable than that? So she reined him in, because what else could she do? It had to stop. She made him feel guilty, she felt guilty, everyone felt guilty. Monogamy is the only way to love. Unless it's all three (or four, or five) of you under the covers, you're bound to wonder if the unfaithfulness extends further north than his penis. The news that you've been cuckolded is one of the most heart-stopping you can receive. Granted, there are exceptions, but they involve the loss of love as well. Death? The one you love is gone. Nothing has frozen my heart faster than hearing that I've been played false. That dull, sickening, thud of your heart shutting off in utter shock. But yeah, I liked Frida. 11:27 a.m. - 2003-09-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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