Saturday, January 6, 2018
Hopeless romantic, that's me.
During the holidays I happened to turn on the tv and the movie Brooklyn was playing. I missed the first part but it was basically the story of an Irish girl moving to the US during the fifties. I was soon swept up in the romance of the characters, it was sweet, the shyness of characters, the innocence and the courtship of the couple. It made me think of my own parents, they would have actually started dating around this time in history, there would have been the same etiquette and protocols. I was having a mushy gay moment, then suddenly everything screeched to a slamming halt! The young woman needed to return to Ireland so the couple who could barely hold hands went back to her room and fucked, then they got married the next day and off she went to Ireland to immediately start dating another man while waiting to return to the States. Sorry for using the "f" word but I did it for dramatic effect, I was pissed. Congratulations Hollywood for ruining a good romance. They didn't go far enough, they should have developed her character to become an alcoholic, syphilis infected whore, who is found passed out in the gutter lying in her own vomit. ............................................... Funny sounding maybe, but I was greatly offended. The writers especially of today just would not understand or maybe not even believe the decency of many people during those times. Knowing now the filth that has been running the entertainment industry for years and realizing that it was actually a lot worse than I thought, I am not shocked. I can just see some creepy little director, lets get them to f¢*k and then hiding in a room somewhere rubbing himself. ............................................. I remember once talking with a married friend, we were talking about people having affairs and he was saying that he and his wife have a don't ask don't tell policy, that they hope each other doesn't stray but that they don't want to know if one of them does. He said he felt that his father probably had an affair when he was younger, then he asked about my parents. I laughed when he asked, he tried to say that you never know (which is true) but I went on to explain my parents. My parents never dressed in front of each other, if one parent needed to enter the washroom while the other was taking a shower or bath, they would wait until the bathing person covered themselves with towels. When younger they never kissed, hugged or held hands in front of other people including my sister and I, they felt that was a private moment that only they should experience. My mother could never understand why a woman would get married a second time, especially if she could no longer have a family. My dad would not be friends with a man who had an affair on his wife, he would be afraid of appearing as approving of the affair and that would taint him as well. He would only go to a male doctor, not because he thought a man was better than a woman but because it felt inappropriate for him to be around another woman in such a way. They were raised in a different time, I tried to explain to my friend, if they wouldn't sit down and talk to people of the opposite sex, if they wouldn't even undress in front of their own spouses, what would possess them to get naked with a stranger. I think now as well you can see why I never told my parents that I'm gay and I have absolutely no regrets about not telling them. I should also probably make it clear that they were not some type of religious nuts, just really decent people, their views also relaxed a lot as they got older. I guess what I'm ranting about here is that in the real world, romance did and still does exist.