I'm getting a lot friendlier with my inner eccentric or wacko or just peace-loving person too.
Still seeing M about once a week, nice dinner, lots of chat (mostly his), and it's a pleasant but less-interesting routine than it used to be. I see more slivers of th darker side of his personality more clearly, as well as my own. Neither of us is glowingly wonderful, and as long as I'm compassionate, it's okay to continue for now anyway. I'm almost relieved to be looking with clearer eyes at areas of incompatibility that are good reasons for me not to wish it'd turned into a lifetime.
But while I'm here....
I loaned him a book by a dear friend and mentor and literary doyenne in this region, now in her early 80s, who'd valued my young poetry enough to secure me a book through the National Endowment for the Arts grant that funded her small press, which is now a regional powerhouse for poets and fiction writers. She's been generous to other writers at an indescribable level and had done the same for me, many years back. She showed me my value and I was astonished.
She sent me her latest volume which is a collection of heartfelt poems about her grief for her partner, whom she'd found dead of a heart attack on her neighbor's lawn when he'd gone out to chase their escaped dog. I like her poetry here and there but most of all, I genuinely love her.
I was thinking of M's loss of his wife two years ago because he's mentioned her more lately (mostly about exotic trips they took) -- and thought maybe it would be meaningful or helpful to him. I forgot that he takes everything written that comes into his hands as an opportunity to be a critic. He identifies very powerfully with that...power. So he rains contempt on anything that's not as brilliant as he is, basically. Think of your most pompous professor, brilliant with an ego the size of Moby Dick, and add steroids (she said, nastily).
Anyway, he tells me with intensity where she ranks in comparison to me three different times--the minute I answer the phone or walked into his house--despite my recoil and attempts to change the subject...it's his first and only response and, being M, he repeats and repeats and repeats his opinion...
"You're a much better poet than she is!". Okay fine, he's welcome to think that. But it's almost the only thing he has to say. And, this is hard to convey, but it's the glee with which he criticizes, his joy in labeling someone as less than elevated or stupendous or whatever he respects...there's this...nastiness in it. I really didn't like it. She is my friend and I've talked to him about her a lot, and at one point we talked about visiting her together and the idea of introducing them brought me joy, because she is so warm and generous of spirit everyone who meets her falls in love. If he didn't enjoy her work as much as mine, he could've just said something like, "Truth is, I like your poetry better and hers didn't do as much for me." I would've understood that and said once, it'd have been fine.
But as he pounded his who-WINS opinion at me, for a competition I never entered nor would, and it helped me see another layer. M is driven by insecurity, despite his ridiculous and well-earned level of success, and for him it's ALL and ALWAYS about who's good-better-best. Never just about the humanity of anyone, nor grace. It's where do they RANK in whatever hierarchy he's focusing on (whether professional or cultural or status especially), and in particular, do they (or I, in this instance) bow down to HIS assessment of their value? He can be really condescending and scathing about describing people in his professional world...particularly younger "woke" women in the department, as a matter of fact. He's dripping contempt when he describes them, mocking not just their ideas but their tones of voice, their ignorance, etc. He does the same when he mocks people with country accents, etc. I really dislike it. A lot.
Anyway, when he applied this reflex to a friend I have loved and valued for many years, and unnecessarily, it was helpful in moving my disengagement another bit.
I understand that from his lofty and probably terrified perch, he views status as everything, and probably thought he was giving me a compliment by denigrating my friend's work. One thing that is very deep for me about poetry and creative writing is that I do NOT view it as competition, and never will. To me, the impulse to write is sacred and I respect that ember in all others who have the same dream. I taught children who couldn't spell but found extraordinary metaphors in their minds. I taught undergraduates as a Teaching Fellow while earning my graduate degree, and had the same attitude toward them. "Grading" was torture for me because of the gut attachment to loving the writer more than the writing.
That's a huge difference between M and me. I'm not "better" than he is and vice versa. But his way of clawing everything into a competition, a performance, and gauging others' value by where they stand on a series of ladders: degrees, publications, plaudits, awards, prizes, wealth, social status, native intelligence, and so forth...I completely understand that this is to some degree characteristic of the academic world. It just has gone all the way to his soul, that clawing need to be the Biggest-Best-Brilliantest, all of which, even though it's true in one area, leaks into everything he sees and values.
My dad was a quiet success in his field and much respected. Yet I never once heard him tear down a colleague -- or anyone ever, in fact -- to make himself feel more important. And I realize this is sad for M, though he's happy exercising his power in the language that rewards him (he's not sad about it, he relishes his critical role).
Sigh. Poor guy. Aging and losing his relevance and power drip by drip is very hard on him. He dreads irrelevance more than death itself. Recognition and reward and applause drive him and he's earned all of it. He just can't stop.
He has another very interesting reward coming in the fall...he's been invited by the Russian government to lecture at their flagship cultural university on his historical field. It's ironic. And he's very excited about the trip. He'll soon be off to California and Costa Rica and then later, Europe and Moscow. I know he's somewhat sorry not to have a companion along, but he's going to get public praise and applause at the other end, and that's what matters most. I'm truly happy for him.
And very happy that I'm not going along. It's not fun for me any more, without the shared life dream. It's also exhausting, and until I'm sure I'm healthy, I'm not going to stress myself with all those time zones! I want my life to get smaller and simpler now, not grander. He needs that level of adrenaline and I don't.
So there's an update. It's been an interesting adventure with M, but for me, it's down to an occasional evening listening to him talk about himself, and enjoying great cooking and playing with Pooch. That's all it'll ever be, and finally, that's OK. I'll soon be returning to the oldsters dating site online and one never knows.
hugs
Hops
