It's not so much about the fact that I've fashioned myself as a cynic ever since I broke up with my first boyfriend. It's always easy to brand yourself a certain way when you've read enough books and watched enough movies to know how a particular stereotype is supposed to behave, the ideas that it's supposed to have, the attitude towards, for instance, romance, that it's supposed to possess. As such, I thought I was cynical: didn't believe in love; scoffed at the notion of romance; and genuinely believed in my non-belief.
It's not so much about cynicism, especially a manufactured sort, as much as it is about experiencing enough to know the things that you know. It's not so much about cynicism, too, as much as it is about the perennial divide between what you know and what you feel. Rationality versus emotions and/or feelings. I became too rational for my own good - then again, it's debatable whether or not that level of rationality was not good for me. Is it objectively objectionable that one should approach relationships and love and dating in an intellectual manner, subconsciously keeping one's feelings in check with the knowledge that these things, as an empirical matter, don't last forever (using this word loosely) and therefore there is little point in getting too emotionally involved? Sometimes it feels like the orthodox viewpoint - that you can't rationalise your way through a relationship; that you have to "open your heart"; that you have to be 100% emotionally invested - is what we've been conditioned to believe, and when I stop and think about it, it makes little sense why it should be the standard by which we live our lives.
The point is, however - as I have realised over the past few days - is not to make sense of this. The point is that feelings don't make sense. I can come up with a list of reasons and construct brilliant arguments on why I love Arnaud Foucher, just as I can easily come up with the same list and same arguments on why I shouldn't. But I can't explain the shift in my emotional response to him. I don't know what caused it. It just happened, out of the blue, when I'm looking at his sleeping face and I'm struck by a wave of affection that I'm not expecting.
The fear comes when one realises (when I realise) that no amount of intellectual posturing or even genuine intellectual prowess can prevent oneself (myself) from repeating the same process of falling in love, all over again. It doesn't matter what you know; it only matters that what you know will eventually be defeated by what you feel. There's no way to guard against it or to stop it from happening. All it takes is one guy, sweetness level cranked to the max, to shine the spotlight on that part of you, ardently kept hidden in a dusty corner hoping to be forgotten, that is willing, able, ready, and eager to love again.
That's not to say that I'm not scared shitless. I am. Still, I told him at the beginning that he made me feel normal again...perhaps I need to go back to being the person that would never have rationalised her way out of a clearly unethical situation and made it seem like it was not her fault or even her problem. Not to sound patronising, but Arnaud reminds me of myself when I was his age and it's nice to be around that kind of purity.
On another note completely - social tennis was so fucking bad today. I went with a cold and felt unsettled throughout. I missed returns that I'd make with my eyes closed on any other day, missed easy volleys at the net, couldn't serve, couldn't run...nose was killing me...dryness in throat was killing me...I got so frustrated that I yelled out really loudly after I missed another backhand return and shocked everyone around me.
I can't help getting upset. Yes, it's just for fun, but we need to remember that I am competitive and hard on myself - a killer combination when one is playing utterly shite tennis. I felt so disconnected today; all I felt was the dryness of the air and the coldness of the winter (even as I was playing indoors). I felt like my reaction was a fraction slower than normal, and that was all it took for me to completely unravel.
I'm not sure why I keep paying 13 pounds to piss myself off for two hours once a week. I don't even like playing doubles. I wish I could have someone that I can hit groundstrokes with consistently without having to pay an exorbitant amount of money. I feel that I am severely lacking practice on that front.
Seriously can't wait to go home and play tennis in the heat and humidity. So sick of this fucked up weather.