Sunday, April 29, 2012
Games (Blogophilia 10.5 and GBE 2 50)
And finds his trusty Thisbe’s mantle slain.
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast.
And Thisbe, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died.-Midsummer’s Night Dream, Act V, Scene I
Ol’ Bill playing mind games with lovers and strangers again. One makes an assumption and acts, then the other makes a worse assumption and now they are both dead. This is basis of serial romantic drama from time immemorial.
And when we read this kind of thing, what is our reaction? Men usually go, “Better them than me.” Women generally take a more sympathetic view. Both go: “Well, that is just a bunch of strangers anyway, why should we really care?”
I think we care because the relations between men and women have a transcendental quality about them. Whether they go well or poorly, the intense emotional change the fabric of who we are. A joie de vivre springs within us and the first impulse is to jump on all the signs. And then we wake up wonder who is this person and how did they get there?
How many relationships got started when the wall was ripped away for you?