I'm not OK, You're not OK--We're Just Liars
Jake knew why people drank or used themselves into a stupor. It was to kill the pain--the pain of feeling all alone in this world, the pain of no one understanding, that deep existential pain that all the poets and philosophers wrote about. Marriage and religion were supposed to be the cure for this. After all, it was religion that said, "It is not good for the man to be alone." However, Jake never felt so alone as during marriage--going off to work alone; being made to feel like an intruder when calling home to talk to his wife; his wife never calling him back to ask how he was doing; hearing the complaints and unhappiness when coming home from work; going to church unaccompanied by his family; going to his high school reunion while his wife did her own thing. Yeah, that was lonely.
Maybe a stronger man than Jake could have tolerated all these things, but Jake was no longer that man. He was now in his early forties and he felt like a used and spent man. Once, he had high hopes for the future, but now he just looked forward to the graduation of his youngest child, still nine years away, when he wouldn't have to worry about taking care of a family or even of himself.
That day. Jake looked forward to that day. In that day, he would just walk away from it all. He wouldn't have to answer to anyone, but could just disappear. His friends and family would want explanations, but there would be none. If they had been paying attention, the explanation would have been clear to them. But as so often happens, his few friends and family had been caught up in their own worlds, much as Jake had been, too caught up to see how Jake was really doing.
"How are you doing Jake?" some of them would ask. Sometimes Jake wanted to answer them, almost to "let 'em have it with both barrels"--to let the asker know how he, Jake, was really doing. In fact, that was one of Jake's fantasies: to really tell the asker how he was doing. During his more testy moments, he wanted to blurt and vomit it all out. "I'll tell you how I'm doing. I'm doing really, really shitty. I'm 41, and I haven't had any sex since I've been 37. It's been four years since the last time and in five years it only happened once. And to top it all off, I think my parts don't even work anymore. How the fuck do you think I'm doing? How do you think any man would feel in these circumstances? Do you even really care? Why do you even ask such a question?"
But, Jake knew that the asker was really just being polite. To explain how Jake was really doing would have taken up too much time.
Jake was deeply angry. He had a brewing cistern of raging disappointment and molten bitterness that would, like a Death Star, vaporize an entire world if it ever was mistakenly released. Marriage and especially the marriage bed were his biggest disappointments. Sometimes the disappointments were all he could think of.
"How are you doing Jake?" "I'm doing alright," or "I'm OK", or "I'm surviving" were his pat responses. Stuff it and pretend--that was Jake's standard operating procedure.
Maybe a stronger man than Jake could have tolerated all these things, but Jake was no longer that man. He was now in his early forties and he felt like a used and spent man. Once, he had high hopes for the future, but now he just looked forward to the graduation of his youngest child, still nine years away, when he wouldn't have to worry about taking care of a family or even of himself.
That day. Jake looked forward to that day. In that day, he would just walk away from it all. He wouldn't have to answer to anyone, but could just disappear. His friends and family would want explanations, but there would be none. If they had been paying attention, the explanation would have been clear to them. But as so often happens, his few friends and family had been caught up in their own worlds, much as Jake had been, too caught up to see how Jake was really doing.
"How are you doing Jake?" some of them would ask. Sometimes Jake wanted to answer them, almost to "let 'em have it with both barrels"--to let the asker know how he, Jake, was really doing. In fact, that was one of Jake's fantasies: to really tell the asker how he was doing. During his more testy moments, he wanted to blurt and vomit it all out. "I'll tell you how I'm doing. I'm doing really, really shitty. I'm 41, and I haven't had any sex since I've been 37. It's been four years since the last time and in five years it only happened once. And to top it all off, I think my parts don't even work anymore. How the fuck do you think I'm doing? How do you think any man would feel in these circumstances? Do you even really care? Why do you even ask such a question?"
But, Jake knew that the asker was really just being polite. To explain how Jake was really doing would have taken up too much time.
Jake was deeply angry. He had a brewing cistern of raging disappointment and molten bitterness that would, like a Death Star, vaporize an entire world if it ever was mistakenly released. Marriage and especially the marriage bed were his biggest disappointments. Sometimes the disappointments were all he could think of.
"How are you doing Jake?" "I'm doing alright," or "I'm OK", or "I'm surviving" were his pat responses. Stuff it and pretend--that was Jake's standard operating procedure.
posted by wanker at 9:49 AM
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