Fed up with Sleeping Beauty
When I was a precocious fifth grader, I decided that when I grew up I'd write a book that revolutionized all of those anti-feminist fairy tales, turning the woman into the savior, or at very least, presenting equitable ability and social mobility. I may not have opted for the sociology degree, or really done yet much in the way of publishing... But I have goddamn well tried to act out those fairy tales in my own life. I recently admitted that a large part of how I choose sexual conquests, is in picking out the slightly weak ones. The nervous ones, the self-conscious ones, the ones who will be grateful for a lay, will worship the woman that provided cognitive salvation for their manhood. Yes -- I go for the dorks for two reasons: 1) intellectual stimulation, 2) gratitute translated into loyalty and veneration.
But I... I've never been equipped for dealing with the mentally ill. It always turns up these boys are not just cute, dorky, and thus far arbitrarily neglected by vaginas... They're also full of self-loathing and prone to fits of depression. I'd bank that nine out of ten readers (yes I flatter myself into assuming ten) know the lyrics to the song "Sleeping Beauty" -- Oh, how that one rung true first I heard it!
Delusional, I believed I could cure it all for you dear
Coax or trick or drive or drag the demons from you
Make it right for you sleeping beauty
Truly thought I could heal you
Far beyond a visible sign of your awakening
Failing miserably to rescue sleeping beauty
Drunk on ego truly thought I could make it right
If I kissed you one more time to help you face the nightmare
But you're far too poisoned for me
Such a fool to think that I could wake you from your slumber
That I could actually heal you
...
Well, she's been changing faces for about eight years, but has yet to wake up. And I'm exhausted. After the long night, it's time to let someone hand me a bowl of cheerios and go to bed.
A few realizations:
- Just how much all of that feminist honkey, the books on moon goddesses, the divorcees on the television screen... have really affected my conceptions of love. I have heretofore insisted on playing a 'masculine' role -- from sexual aggressiveness to trying to be the Hero.
- And now, how completely tapped I am in the way of any kind of mental support. Even normal, trivial problems -- "ah, shadup! No whining, I don't want any whiny boys!"
- And how, somewhat regretably, for the first time, I'm going to have to fail my Sleeping Beauty. I can't save this one, I can only hurt him, and I won't do that out of negligence and a bizarre need to be exalted.