It is going to take all my power to refrain, on tomorrow's show about "belonging," from mentioning one of my favorite quips of all time, by one of my favorite people of all time, Groucho Marx. He wrote, in his book Groucho & Me:
I sent the club [the Friar's Club of Beverly Hills] a wire, stating: "PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT PEOPLE LIKE ME AS A MEMBER."
To this day I find that so damn funny. But I won't mention it tomorrow. I promise.
But it does bring to mind something very real that I often found happening back in the days when I was youngish, carefree, & dating. I would find myself with a lovely young lady with whom I might or might not have much in common. There was an initial attraction, so we were going out, but something was off. I guessed I didn't like her as much as I thought, or perhaps the fact that we had very little in common was more glaringly obvious by the day, but I knew the relationship was doomed. In most cases, the relationship would end, of course, before that time - a bright young woman would naturally see me for the mediocre human being I am. But if it were to go on - almost as if by intertia - I'd withdraw, possibly become more passive-aggressive, in order to sabotage the thing.
It doesn't matter what or how, but the relationship, whether two dates or two months long, would end. & then suddenly - it never failed - suddenly, magically, I would fall heels over head in love with the woman. I would be obsessive. I would be heartbroken. & I thought it might be sour grapes, at first, but I think the opposite would be more true: people usually nurse hate with a broken heart.
No, for me, it was the very Marxist revelation: I admired them for having the good sense, the exquisite taste, to reject me. Dating me was a mark against them. Dumping me was such a tremendously wise decision that it caused me to swoon.
In other words: I found it very hard to date a girl who would have someone like me as her boyfriend.
This of course happened in the absence of real love. When real love happened, I was never bored, or focused on how little in common we had, or anything like that. & there was no sudden insight of love when the relationship ended - I stayed in love because I was always in love.
Anyway - I won't talk about that, or the Groucho Marx quote tomorrow. I swear.
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