In the evidence of its brilliance.... or lack thereof.
Well, I am you know who. And and I'm a movie junkie. I go to the movies and actually get something out of them. And then I'm ready to go right back for more. And more. And more. The one I'm talking about this time is Match Point, the latest from Woody Allen, the kinkiest neurotic this side of the Atlantic.
It's basically the story of a guy who meets the gal who makes him tick just to discover that she's in a relationship with his friend (who just happens to have introduced him to his very rich family and whose sister he ends up dating). But as we all know, physical attractions are all like little tsunamis that know no boundaries and have no respect for social norms. They get it on one day in an open field under the rain (the memory of the smell of just-rained-in-field almost gave me a hard-on, I have my own memories of after-and-while-it-rains delicious sex but that's another story). To make this short, they separate, he marries the rich girl, accepts her daddy's suggestion of a job with his company and a life of comfort starts.
That is, until he meets the girl (now unattached) again and a full-fledged affair starts. I can understand how he felt. How you become a walking hard-on when you find someone who really makes you tick and you thought you had lost. You see, when you are in a relationship that is comfortable but not exciting, this is one of the situations you run like hell from (oh, gosh a dangling prepsition!). And it's one of the situations that make your blood run faster, your brain feels like in constant pheromone stimuli and butterflies take home in your stomach.
Nothing makes the male (I have no idea about girls) more excited than this mental and physical exercise of controlling your emotions and desires and then letting them go. It's not fair how we can function like satyrs on the prowl with the man we really want and how inescapably sedate and boring we are with the man we are married to. How our hearts beat faster, how our blood seems to run through our whole body in one single surge. How we know we are going to come like there's no tomorrow, how we will feel that rush that only comes when we are coming with someone who wants us with the same intensity and no-holds-barred emotion that we feel with this one guy. How we feel like craying while we come because it's soo fucking good and so fucking fleeting. How we have to will our dicks to stay down and how our mind cannot think of nothing else but the contact with that other skin. The skin of the man who is not our man.
Because when familiarity, custom and desire for comfort are stronger than love, lust or desire, the dychotomy is even worse. Because come the moment, just like the guy in the movie, we decide to stay with what we consider is safer, even if it's boring. There is life for some people without comfort. And I guess for some is better a comfortable fuck (if there is sex at all) than a hot, sweaty, incredibly satysfying romp when you know you have to pay the rent in a week and your check is not there yet.
He ended up with the rich, boring girl. Living the life of an elegant, comfortable, empty husband. All because he made up his mind and decided to get rid of the 'other' woman -literally, but you'd have to see the movie to see that, I'm not telling- and stay with his wife. I don't know how I would have reacted. Maybe because I'm not married, because there is not all that money and comfort and security at stake, I would have stayed with the more erratic, hot and adventurous guy. Or maybe not?
Just questioning my questions makes me wonder.... and it ain't pretty.