"Eventually, the writer found a woman who was attracted to him, who also loved him, and so he got divorced and married her, though his former wife remained a good friend."
Cindy and I have long puzzled over couples who split up and can remain good friends. We have taken vows to each other that if we ever split up, we shall become mortal enemies. Yet another reason to stay together. Yay!!
Your quote about why people voted for Trump in 2020 is spot on. It truly isn’t rocket science. I’m not happy about it, but that’s how and why I voted.
Re: the polyamory- thank you for calling it what it is- sin, wicked, destructive, tragic.
What I don’t get is the common theme of the symptoms (dry heaving, sobbing, anxiety, etc) continually ignored. I’ve read similar accounts from multiple people. It is as if body, soul, and spirit are providing every opportunity to stop, turn, and go back to a life giving way. God truly designed us for life.
Basically, all that’s left is for a donkey to come along and state “you’re headed for destruction, pal. Stop it!”
Its heart wrenching to watch hearts become calloused. Excellent article.
I can’t imagine a scenario where a friend described those symptoms to me and I said anything other than, “Um, that sounds pretty serious actually. Are you sure this course of action is good for you?” It’s like all the “self-care” talk and encouragement to trust one’s instincts goes out the window the minute those instincts might point to God’s law written on our hearts. 🤔
Having had to survive countless “fierce, wild, free” self-help books from erstwhile evangelical women, this from Mr. French does indeed sound like whatever “Girl, Wash Your Messy Untamed Face” sequel is loosed next upon us.
I think we “fundamentalists” need a whole new line of merch promoting *certainty, ferocity and solidarity.* For. Real.
Also, I don’t know if I can bear another story of people looking for love and all the wrong places. It’s getting easier and easier to look away from the train wrecks. So painful and tragic.
I always wonder: do all these people who claim to be happy in “polyamorous” relationships really not feel jealousy? Of course, there are the countless articles like this one, in which the writers clearly hate their polyamory trainwrecks but still feel obligated to pay lip service to the concept. But then there are the people who claim their lives have gotten so much better, who feel no jealousy because jealousy is for the insecure. Is it just a lot of self-denial, or something else?
I’ve quoted this on one of your posts before, but I think it’s worth repeating, because I think Tom Stoppard is actually pointing to an actual ontology behind physical relationships.
From The Real Thing:
“It’s to do with knowing and being known. I remember how it stopped seeming odd that in biblical Greek knowing was used for making love. Whosit knew so-and-so. Carnal knowledge. It’s what lovers trust each other with. Knowledge of each other, not of the flesh but through the flesh, knowledge of self, the real him, the real her, in extremis, the mask slipped from the face. Every other version of oneself is on offer to the public. We share our vivacity, grief, sulks, anger, joy ... we hand it out to anybody who happens to be standing around, to friends and family with a momentary sense of indecency perhaps, to strangers without hesitation. Our lovers share us with the passing trade. But in pairs we insist that we give ourselves to each other. What selves? What’s left? What else is there that hasn’t been dealt out like a pack of cards? Carnal knowledge. Personal, final, uncompromised. Knowing, being known. I revere that. Having that is being rich, you can be generous about what’s shared – she walks, she talks, she laughs, she lends a sympathetic ear, she kicks off her shoes and dances on the tables, she’s everybody’s and it don’t mean a thing, let them eat cake; knowledge is something else, the undealt card, and while it’s held it makes you free-and-easy and nice to know, and when it’s gone everything is pain. Every single thing. Every object that meets the eye, a pencil, a tangerine, a travel poster. As if the physical world has been wired up to pass a current back to the part of your brain where imagination glows like a filament in a lobe no bigger than a torch bulb. Pain.“
"Eventually, the writer found a woman who was attracted to him, who also loved him, and so he got divorced and married her, though his former wife remained a good friend."
Cindy and I have long puzzled over couples who split up and can remain good friends. We have taken vows to each other that if we ever split up, we shall become mortal enemies. Yet another reason to stay together. Yay!!
Your quote about why people voted for Trump in 2020 is spot on. It truly isn’t rocket science. I’m not happy about it, but that’s how and why I voted.
Re: the polyamory- thank you for calling it what it is- sin, wicked, destructive, tragic.
What I don’t get is the common theme of the symptoms (dry heaving, sobbing, anxiety, etc) continually ignored. I’ve read similar accounts from multiple people. It is as if body, soul, and spirit are providing every opportunity to stop, turn, and go back to a life giving way. God truly designed us for life.
Basically, all that’s left is for a donkey to come along and state “you’re headed for destruction, pal. Stop it!”
Its heart wrenching to watch hearts become calloused. Excellent article.
I can’t imagine a scenario where a friend described those symptoms to me and I said anything other than, “Um, that sounds pretty serious actually. Are you sure this course of action is good for you?” It’s like all the “self-care” talk and encouragement to trust one’s instincts goes out the window the minute those instincts might point to God’s law written on our hearts. 🤔
Agree completely!
Having had to survive countless “fierce, wild, free” self-help books from erstwhile evangelical women, this from Mr. French does indeed sound like whatever “Girl, Wash Your Messy Untamed Face” sequel is loosed next upon us.
I think we “fundamentalists” need a whole new line of merch promoting *certainty, ferocity and solidarity.* For. Real.
Also, I don’t know if I can bear another story of people looking for love and all the wrong places. It’s getting easier and easier to look away from the train wrecks. So painful and tragic.
Well, even if the polyamorous couples say they are happy, I am over here crying for them…and especially for their children.
I always wonder: do all these people who claim to be happy in “polyamorous” relationships really not feel jealousy? Of course, there are the countless articles like this one, in which the writers clearly hate their polyamory trainwrecks but still feel obligated to pay lip service to the concept. But then there are the people who claim their lives have gotten so much better, who feel no jealousy because jealousy is for the insecure. Is it just a lot of self-denial, or something else?
I’ve been wondering that too. Everyone is so unnaturally cheery about it, even when they’re crying. It’s so odd.
"A man whose wife abandons him because she feels attracted to other women is actually wicked."
Did you mean to call the *man* wicked?
They are both wicked, to be fair.
Oops 😬
You see where certainty leads you?
🤣
I’ve quoted this on one of your posts before, but I think it’s worth repeating, because I think Tom Stoppard is actually pointing to an actual ontology behind physical relationships.
From The Real Thing:
“It’s to do with knowing and being known. I remember how it stopped seeming odd that in biblical Greek knowing was used for making love. Whosit knew so-and-so. Carnal knowledge. It’s what lovers trust each other with. Knowledge of each other, not of the flesh but through the flesh, knowledge of self, the real him, the real her, in extremis, the mask slipped from the face. Every other version of oneself is on offer to the public. We share our vivacity, grief, sulks, anger, joy ... we hand it out to anybody who happens to be standing around, to friends and family with a momentary sense of indecency perhaps, to strangers without hesitation. Our lovers share us with the passing trade. But in pairs we insist that we give ourselves to each other. What selves? What’s left? What else is there that hasn’t been dealt out like a pack of cards? Carnal knowledge. Personal, final, uncompromised. Knowing, being known. I revere that. Having that is being rich, you can be generous about what’s shared – she walks, she talks, she laughs, she lends a sympathetic ear, she kicks off her shoes and dances on the tables, she’s everybody’s and it don’t mean a thing, let them eat cake; knowledge is something else, the undealt card, and while it’s held it makes you free-and-easy and nice to know, and when it’s gone everything is pain. Every single thing. Every object that meets the eye, a pencil, a tangerine, a travel poster. As if the physical world has been wired up to pass a current back to the part of your brain where imagination glows like a filament in a lobe no bigger than a torch bulb. Pain.“