By Stanley Collymore
You
audaciously approached me and confidently introduced yourself to me, after
which you gamely and interestingly spoke to me, a conversation in which quite
engagingly you told me, while in the process dexterously persuading me with all
the prowess that you could muster to listen to every word of what you were
appealingly saying to me, and noticeably doing so with all the composure,
absolute conviction and the unfettered sophistication of an unquestionably
cultured and humorous gentleman who strikingly in elucidation but even so
agreeably, calmly and assuredly knew with a perceptibly undiminished clarity
and unbridled certainty what he was distinctly after. Then proceeded to totally
and uninhibitedly readily convince me that from the very start – in effect the
precise moment that you first saw me, you’d become completely and irresistibly
besotted with me.
And
consequently if how you felt about me was the undoubted stirrings of love for
me, then quite unreservedly, as well as unapologetically, your unmitigated plea
relative to how exactly you both emotionally and romantically cared for me was,
you further candidly stated, most categorically simply a combined situation, in
logical terms, of your being positively but at the same unashamedly guilty of
having deeply and passionately fallen in love with me.
However,
secretly on the rebound from a rather nasty, malevolently controlling, one-sidedly
giving – you’ve guessed it absolutely correctly that it was exclusively me
doing all the giving in that marital relationship – a particularly
psychologically unrewarding, most damaging emotionally and an unfalteringly
subjected to serially adulterous and a pernicious nightmare of a marriage that
I eventually summoned up the courage to finally free myself from though
divorcing my domineering brute of a husband.
And on
having achieved that, my undoubted lack of self-confidence fastened to my
perceived, deeply embedded and an intrinsically, socially fearful embarrassment
of my being a failure as a wife that I firmly construed as being all my fault,
and which previously and collectively had cowardly precluded me from lawfully
embarking on what quite naturally and understandably should unequivocally have
been an absolutely feasible, understandable and a common-sense course of action
in logically filing for a divorce from this monster of a man I’d married,
simply hadn’t happened.
But with
that at last now done, and even though the unaccustomed practice of being a
woman and completely on my own was still something of a disquieting novelty for
me, I was even so very determined, as I optimistically did everything in my
power to thoroughly reassure myself of this, that I was now individually at
liberty to do what I genuinely thought was best for me and my future. And
although I was fully cognizant what a problematic mission it would obviously be
to permanently bury the past, totally forget what I’d terrifyingly and rather
inappropriately constantly allowed myself to happen to me, while absolutely and
forever discarding my undeniably feckless but prescribed role, in name only I
shamefully confess, as a wife although fortunately and thank God not as a
mother, and consequently in those gratefully escaped from and utterly dismally
aforementioned circumstances intelligently, pragmatically and hopefully move on
constructively with my life.
This is my earnest ambition and, in essence, what I
would genuinely like for things in their fullest fruition but most specifically
in respect of myself to be, although realistically the eventual outcome, I’m
well aware, could very well be a wholly different scenario, in lots complicated
and even quite puzzling ways, from what optimistically in my steadfast hopes
and honest aspirations I would most certainly and undoubtedly prefer for the
eventual end result to be.
Yet here you are, in effect and clearly something that
I mustn’t conveniently overlook nor casually forget, a complete stranger in
reality to me and what’s more saying the kind of intriguing things that my
motivated heart truthfully wants to hear but on the contrary my distinctly wary
head, however, is much more cautious about. And in this apparently confusing
process powerfully throwing, I could very well honestly say, my entire emotional
balance into a state of total disarray.
So how then am I supposed to honestly know let alone
clear-headedly, accurately and unquestionably deduce with an absolute certainty
that’s obviously and understandably triggered and effectively spurred on by the
provocateurs of my previous and unhappy circumstances, that what you purposefully
claim you’re sincerely saying to me isn’t fundamentally nothing more than the
selfishly manufactured fantasy of a very vivid imagination that is itself
coupled with the egotistical and deliberately unequivocal self-aggrandizing machinations
of an entirely conniving as well as a thoroughly seasoned Lothario whose deftly
executed but nevertheless unsupported flattering declarations of undying love for
me designedly have no affinity whatsoever with the latter nor, for that matter,
convincingly makes any allowance for the existence of reality.
A state of affairs that if not carefully examined by
me and seriously challenged if necessary could in all probability, and at the
very least, be ruthlessly, deceitfully, intentionally malevolently, totally
self-servingly and, in all of this, most I injuriously to me be unscrupulously
employed to cast me back to the wholly untenable situation which with
considerable difficulty, but even so, I did finally manage to escape from. A
deplorable situation that had previously and wholly inescapably for me while I
was helplessly ensnared by it rendered me, most categorically, as a nobody who
was likewise perceived as someone who was only worthy of the utmost contempt,
and hence the ungracious appellation that then in reality and now in hurtful
remembrance I still unavoidably bear the awful scars of and naturally very much
resent.
So what’s it to be my unfamiliar but unrelenting
suitor? And before you sally forth with one or several of your glib answers I’d
like for you this time to think very carefully about what you might wish to say
to me, as you also seriously bear in mind this genuine request of mine. For I’d
personally like for you to candidly provide me with an honest and original
answer whatever that in itself might be. For only then can I realistically
satisfy myself by what you’ve said or crucially omitted in your explanation to
me whether, as you’d like for me to believe, this supposed adoration by you for
me is truly the dawning of a bright and meaningful future together for the two
of us. Or more possibly the compelling but meretricious inception of an
illusionary romantic mirage that could very well prove to be immensely inimical
to the emotional welfare of a still unsure of herself and therefore a highly
vulnerable woman like me.
Inevitably, at some time or other, most people
regardless of who they are, what their racial or ethnic origins might be,
irrespective of their religious, agnostic or atheistic views, what they do or
don’t do for a living, their personally identifiable class, social or
educational background; their ingrained political loyalties or none, the power
and or influence that they wield or more like than not the manipulated
sycophancy that they readily subvert themselves to, how grotesquely and
graspingly rich or generally pathetically and miserably poor they happen to be;
how immaturely young or seasoned old they are, what their birth or subsequently
acquired nationality is, the robust state or otherwise of their health and
daily life, or where in the world they either choose or are forced to live,
whether they’re incarcerated in prison or at liberty to live and lead their own
life as they see fit, will unhappily and even emotionally destructive for them
find themselves romantically spurned by at least one and possibly even several
prospective lovers and thus be very much on the dismissive end of a love that
they’ve both willingly and freely offered to another person but which in return
is roundly rejected as it is likewise unreciprocated.
Well, there’s a general saying that there’s no
accounting for personal taste and amidst the vicissitudes of everyday life when
it actually comes to factoring into the love stakes this truism couldn’t be any
more applicable than it already is. And not unsurprising in this love equation
is how each affected individual specifically reacts to his or her romantic rejection
that in turn depends on a number of tangible as well as imperceptible factors.
For instance, there are those who’ll use the fallout
from their rejection, painful as it might be, to judiciously and sensibly
re-examine their personal approach to all future romàntic affairs that directly
involve themselves and then use the information they’ve collated and the
analysis they’re arrived at as a fitting platform to more solidly construct for
themselves what exactly it is that they actually want from life in terms of
romance, and having ascertained that accordingly get on with it.
Others though tend to dwell inordinately on their
rejection and as a consequence of that become bitter and twisted persons for
the rest of their life. However, there are those who on reflexion see their
rejection as a providential escape for them and gratefully thank their lucky
stars for the enforced situation that at the time they were placed in. But
unfortunately there will be those who finding themselves utterly despondent at
what has happened to them will seek release from their perceived shame and
embarrassment by killing themselves.
Then there’s another category of persons who
obsessively imbued with a manifestly pronounced and delusional sense of their
own egotistical importance and the perverse notion of how dare anyone do
something like this to me, will malevolently set out for the remainder of their
pathetic life to exact revenge. And prompts the obvious question, for me
anyway, which of these categories, or none of them, do you consider yourself as
belonging to? Or perhaps you’re one of those android-type creatures totally and
uncaringly devoid of all emotional feelings. And the characteristically
sentient and sane among us Homo sapiens will intuitively know the sorts of individuals
I’m specifically referring to.
For we routinely observe them on a daily basis
unwarrantedly, incompetently, corruptly and criminally occupying our supposedly
democratic, but we know otherwise, parliaments, other institutionalized fora of
power and influence and effectively postulating themselves not only as
parliamentarians but even more seriously and worryingly so as prime ministers,
cabinet ministers and even presidents of our respective countries.
Disproportionately so, it must be cogently stated, to
their actual numbers in the much wider population that significantly comprises
us Homo sapiens and that these alien oiks have both manipulatively and
controlling foisted themselves upon, while ludicrously and risibly, if it
wasn’t such a bloody serious matter, ascribing to themselves the bogus epithet
of the “privileged elites”. Among whom I often wonder? And so far I’ve been
unable to discern either a clear-cut or convincing answer to this idiotic
conundrum of theirs!
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