mercoledì, gennaio 23, 2013

Where there are tongues, they will be fucking stilled, someday right?

Well, what the fuck is the point of talking all the time anyways? Isn't love expressed through actions, decisions, touches, mutual orgasms, presence, help and succour? What is love if it needs words piled on it to make it clear? Wouldn't that make it the province of lawyers and politicians beyond anyone else's? In that shtick in Corinthians that the blackest of atheists can generally choke out if they're asked to do a reading at a wedding, where's the bit that says you have to blah-blah-blah about your feelings all the fucking time like a fucking Jodi Picault novel about dying teenagers?

The F-word and I, this time around anyways, went about three years without trotting out the L-word, and we'd shovel shit in a shopping centre for a job if it meant being able to hang out together. I mean half the whole point of that is not having to talk about it all the time. So you can talk about other things, or have sex, or make babies, or whatever. Right? I don't know. I have a father who loves us and loves his wife and doesn't talk about his feelings more than a couple of times a year. I guess that learned me that men don't have to talk about their feelings on and on and on and on to have feelings. Nor do I.

For heaven's sake, though, isn't it obvious? I mean, if you love someone and respect them and trust them, surely you understand that they love you if they're still there with you and and doing nice things with, to and for you, and looking happy about it, right? I mean, hand-holding, for fuck's sake. Who holds your hand in public in an Anglophone country unless they love you a lot? People (usually women) complain about other people (usually men) being shitty emotional communicators, but who's the shitty emotional communicator if you can't pick up on something that fucking obvious?

So there.

5 commenti:

y.s.s. ha detto...


Though it's all the screw-up psycho-babble crap about 'counselling' that has my hackles rising.

The industry in raking-it-all-up-and-poring-over-the cold-dead-corpse is gun-owning justification enough.

Mind - my husband is congenitally incapable of saying anything even approaching the L word and occasionally (maybe once a year) I hate him for his emotional constipation because he also can't do tender touch without wanting to fuck. So once a decade for an un-still tongue would be acceptable around me.

But stoicism, forbearance and the strong silent type are good with me.

Bleating about someone not using enough words enough of the time sounds to me like a person looking for an excuse to get out of a relationship. But I'm shit at relationships.

e.f. bartlam ha detto...

I've been working with a good buddy the last few days and she has just cut off a relationship over issues like this. I say issues because the emotional overload was just one symptom of a larger problem..summed up by her exasperated demand that she needs a "real man."

If this is about need to slow your roll lady. He is a new is a tremendous emotional adjustment for a man. You are now the mother of his son. Cut the man some slack.

Was that too much on my part? Did I go too far. I hope I wasn't offensive. You know I really like you Spliff and your blog and I would hate to think that I had overstepped my bounds....Please dont' be mad at me.


Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Good lord no. The F-word is lovely, and is remarkably gracious about me not being good with words and so expressing my love orally otherwise.

No, I'm getting discombobulated by Elvis's wife, who seems to think I and our mother can somehow transform him into an effective communicator, or at least someone who can communicate effectively with her, all while she's banging some guy all over Facebook, for fuck's sake, what the fuck?

BTW you're mean.

Mistress La Spliffe ha detto...

Y.S.S. - in a word, yes. If I know anyone who's managed to patch things up with the help of couple's therapy they're miles deep in the closet over it.

e.f. bartlam ha detto...

I needed a set up for my hilarious joke.

I've never known a couple that went to counciling until they were way beyond salvation.

Now I'm going to go cry.