So today let's go into the boundless realms of the imagination...actually, let's imagine something quite mundane. So, suppose I'm a guy. And I'm in love. Hmm..mundane enough? Sure. There are lots of guys, many of them are in love, and many more are thoroughly convinced that they love. And I'm one of them, for now. And who is it that provokes emotions in the region encased by my ribcage? Well, a woman (coz this is a mundane imagining) who sets my soul on fire, brings light into my otherwise illumination-deprived life etc. So far so good. Ok, now let's tweak the story a little bit.
Suppose she doesn't love me. She also quite candidly admits to this little fact. So there's no devilish subterfuge etc. Its all out in the open and I think, "Atleast she's honest", and I love her a little bit more. After all, it is my prerogative as to whether i keep bestowing my emotions on her. So what's the point of all this pap, you ask. Hold on, the tweaking process is still on.
Now this woman sees nothing wrong in making me the on/off centre of her life, depending on the availability of substitutes. What this entails is that I have to always be there for her in whichever manner she fancies her need to be. I listen, I advise, I help, I act as her sounding board, I become her public relations officer, and I love and I love, love and love some more. In the process, I occupy various positions in her life: carpenter, plumber, odd jobs man, dustbin, pen paper and all other manner of stuff. Its still all ok, coz my love makes me want to give of myself, whatever I can, to her. I don't stoop to think of whether she will ever consent to being a dustbin if I happen to need one. Love doesn't lend itself easily to such selfish speculations. But one day, she stops needing me, coz the aforementioned substitutes make their presence felt. It hurts a little bit, and then a bit more. I think to myself that maybe its a good thing, maybe now I'll have time for my life. The week after that, she decides that she can't do without me, although she still is very clear about not loving me. I happily go back to playing a multidimensional helix of roles on her life. But this in-out process then starts happening regularly, like a joke that's so hilarious that God keeps repeating it periodically coz it just never gets old.
Then my other friends start telling me that I should move on, that she's using me etc. And I do see the point of it all, but how do I move on when i know how devastated she'll be when she finds out? Somewhere in the back of mind is the niggling thought that maybe she won't be so devastated, but I brush it aside, and i agonize everyday, a little bit more. So in this imagining, which may not be entirely fictitious, my central problem is why nice people like me invariably end up loving not-so nice people with few compunctions like her, when there are so many nice, perfectly lovable, caring people in this world. Why don't I stop being there for her, even though, clearly, she's the user and I'm the loser here? Why must I be such a fool for that brat? Why must I love the wretch who makes me so wretched? The answer, of course, is that I cannot blame stupidity or a lack of sense which is typical of humanity. The problem is that day after day, breath after endless breath, I make a choice: the choice to be stupid, to give myself to one who doesn't deserve me by a long shot. And will I stop, you ask? What are you, stupid or something?