26- The virgin and the whore
Journal: March 30, 1987
Dear Roe:
I took a long walk after our conversation on the phone. In
the rain.
Rain has always been my favorite weather, a misty warm rain
that makes you bundle up even when it’s not cold, wetting my face like a sloppy
kiss.
In such weather I feel a sense of security huddled under an
umbrella. Such weather has always helped me think.
Your question as to why I am attracted to women like Peggy
is a good one, one that I have often asked myself in the past.
There are, of course, many answers, from the Freudian definition
of love to the more confusing nature of basic human relationships.
We all like to think we are in control of what we do and
feel. This is an illusion. Our conscious mind barely controls anything at all.
It is like riding on a wild stallion, able if lucky to direct the beast in some
particular direction, but never precisely.
It is the other part of the mind that controls things, our
bodily functions, and such.
Do you remember the woman we talked about who put her tea
pot in a microwave oven? She wasn’t really thinking at all. Some compulsion
made her do it.
This is also true of our emotions.
Habits and attractions seem to be influenced by something
other than our consciousness, the deeper, more fundamental furies from some
place we are not always aware of.
One reason I struggle with the concept of sin (yes, you and
I got lessons from our days in Catholic grammar school together). Too many
factors contribute to choices we mistakenly believe we make consciously when
the real inspiration may come from that same deeper place, we know nothing about.
Too much pain and pleasure come from out of this surreal
place in our minds.
I think holy books such as the Bible struggle to map out this
dreamscape and set boundaries to protect us from ourselves, giving us rules we
might follow to avoid the folly we tend to tall into. And it is this reason why
I can’t totally reject the Bible.
But I’m not writing you about the Bible, but about the dangerous
road I’ve set upon in my attraction to Peggy.
Dr. Thomas – the ultimate Freudian – would claim I am in
search of a mother figure.
In a strange sense, this might be true. Each and every woman
I have claimed to love has a bit of my mother in them, a desperate wholesome
soul caught in a dark web they cannot escape.
Those women I’m most attracted to have multiple personalities
– not the crazy kind, but the social standard that requires them to satisfy men’s
sexual needs and yet still act as if they are a virgin – that prostitute/virgin
syndrome. While every man loves a loose woman, few of us will actually marry
one (the way did with my ex-wife).
I don’t think any women really ever resolves this conflict,
but often they find lovers with whom they can act out these fantasies, a kind
of charade that allows them to protect their true identity.
When confronted with the façade, men tend to fall for the fantasy,
the virgin or the whore, or in some cases, both – leading to additional fantasies
such as the good girl trapped in a bad girl’s body, and we – believing in our
own self-created fantasy – become knights in shining armor determined to rescue
the girl.
With Peggy, the metaphor is a bit more complex, spelling out
contractions that are more than just the fundamental virgin/whore. She lives
two lives, one in the clubs at night, the other in a straight job by day. She
is also a Republican, who loves Ronald Reagan and John Wayne.
She works for the law-and-order party and yet routinely flaunts
the law, wanted by the police for thousands of dollars in unpaid parking
tickets, a hard-core drug addict, and most likely a prostitute as well, one who
goes to church every Sunday (except during football season).
She is acting out roles that protect some deeper person she does
not want to expose to the harsh reality of either world. As dancer, she
maintains control of the lusting mob with jokes and drinks, and gets paid in cocaine,
often not needing to give anything such as sex in return. Perhaps her straight
job scares her even more, its ruthlessness disguised, sneaking up on her so
that she must always be on guard.
But it is a losing battle on both fronts, as her cocaine
addiction proves, something unsustainable, and eventually, the dark forces will
close in on her when her habit tears down her defenses.
Somewhere down deep is the real Peggy, the vulnerable Peggy,
the Peggy worth knowing and loving, and that is the part of her I seek.
But I need to be careful, it is a path wrought with
pitfalls.
Yet, if I do not investigate it, I will never know where it
will lead, or what am will have missed.
I appreciate your concern. Understand, I am not foolish
enough to plunge headlong into the abyss and do not venture near its edge
without assuring myself that I can get back out.
Curiosity has always been my major flaw. I am curious as to
what makes Peggy tick, And who knows, maybe in the process I can help her.
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