I believe tonight I might have had a horrible realisation through the medium of dance. I’m wondering how I can say that with a straight face ….
So I had the usual glowing wonderful conversation with my new French friend. I was high as a kite with her, gabbling in my best french; proud of my recovery thus far.
If you read my previous Piña Bausch entry you’d know I don’t “do” dance. But right now I do anything. She booked tickets for an all male dance troupe who dance a mix of flamenco and hip hop.
The scene started with a man labouring (balletically obviously) across the stage one step at a time tied by ropes to one side. It was dark, the music booming and tense. It was virile – they had beautiful bodies (reminding me of the one I love).
As one by one tied up figures appeared, laboured, restricted I started to feel terrible anguish. Then I started to feel sick. My jaws were tight, my teeth started to grind. I started to cry. All of a sudden I was transported to imagined scenes of him back at home, conversations they would be having, hearing him reassure her of his love, imagining her demanding news of whether we’d spoken that day with her hatred of me unchecked, untrammelled.
Normally the idea of their certain misery reassures me. But these ropes made me think instead of the lack of possibility inside our relationship when he feels so tied to her. How will he ever leave her? Especially for me when she hates me so much and sees me as the architect of her doom? It could take not months but years for all this to work through.
And there’s the rub. I’ve had this itchy feeling for a while that I feel lighter every time someone tells me it can’t last between them. No matter what comes out of my lips or onto the page here from my rational mind, deep inside somewhere in my subconscious, I am waiting for him.
Those feelings were released beyond all doubt tonight watching that torturous dance.
The odd thing is that I don’t actually ever imagine him coming to me in a way which would make it work. I imagine more of the same shit we’ve already had – flirting and indecision – but not him finding the strength to say ” this isn’t working. I’m going to Heather. For all our sakes we need to find a way to make that work”. Indeed I can almost hear him say to me “She will never let me go to you” and him seeing no possibility inside of that.
Because this is all clearly made up nonsense between them which he could address if he did find the clarity and resolve, I still have hope. What would be a good thing for me would be the death of that hope but I cannot see how to orchestrate that.
And tonight he’s back on our alter ego being cheeky. It’s his way of saying hello. I am desperate to respond.