A while back I posted a critique of SirHamster’s theological error, here.
He responded with the full text of his response, as I asked, which I paste below and critique as I go.
This will probably interest only autists (whether Protestant or Catholic) but I know we have armies of such people in the ranks, so… enjoy.
SirHamster in Calvinistic and erroneous Bold, and me in Beautiful Just and True Italic.
Last week, the @Kurgan left me a Thanksgiving day present comment. I got sidetracked with life, but there’s a lot I’d like to write in response.
Long thread inc. Inviting Bible monomaniacs to talk about the Bible has predictable consequences.
First off, an acknowledgement that Kurgan honored me with a long blogpost here.
The Kurgan took my comments as criticizing Catholic dogma, but I had a very narrow scope with my points. Given purgatory as a reality, “optimal” behavior means minimizing actions in life that increases time spent there.
If his conscience is clear, good for him. I highlighted specific behavior as a useful signal for self-reflection.
But here’s the comment I want to specifically address. It is a tangent from this other thread where I had a long discussion with Katzman.
For context, I made a point that Christian violence is a form of giving one’s life. In support of that, I referenced “He who lives by the sword dies by the sword.” Several points Kurgan makes here:
– The referenced passage is not about “I will kill you”
– The passage is about people who make a living with weapons (eg violence)
– The passage does not apply to Kurgan as a farmer
– It is inaccurate to apply the passage to anyone who might use violence to kill
Let’s do a Bible study! The referenced passage, which I was in fact referring to, does not actually say the quote I used. I Had a little Mandela moment, but that’s just my brain replacing the passage with a pithy summary. `
And behold one of them that were with Jesus, stretching forth his hand, drew out his sword: and striking the servant of the high priest, cut off his ear. Then Jesus saith to him: Put up again thy sword into its place: for all that take the sword shall perish with the sword.`
Matthew 26:51-52 biblehub.com/drbc/matthew/26.htm
You will see cross references to Mark, Luke, and John. In the last account we find that the unnamed sword-wielding disciple is Peter, first Pope of the Catholic Church.
So, what are the facts of the passage? Jesus is being arrested by the authorities. Peter is ready to die for his Lord and take up arms. He draws his sword and draws blood. Jesus rebukes Peter. `Jesus therefore said to Peter:
Put up thy sword into the scabbard.
The chalice which my father hath given me, shall I not drink it?` (John 18) Jesus heals the wounded, submits to arrest, and all the disciples including Peter flee the scene.
Those are the facts. What does it mean?
1. Jesus submitted to arrest. He points out that he could call on angels to prevent his arrest, but God’s will is for Him to take up a cup of suffering. The rest is history. Jesus conquers sin and death.
2. Peter’s behavior is a normal Bravo response to protect his Alpha, but it was not the right response because it did not fit in God’s plan. This was self-defense to protect the most important person in Mankind’s history. It was valid, but not right. Having established the facts of the passage and its general meaning, we are now equipped to do the harder work of applying this Biblical truth to our own Christian life.
And hereafter is where he goes spectacularly wrong.
What role does violence play in the Christian life? Kurgan is against using this passage as support of pacifism. I find little fault in that.
And yet…
Modern pacifism is almost always passivity in the face of evil, which bears evil fruit.
Correct so far.
Christians behavior must follow Divine logic so that we can bear good fruit.
Again correct.
Divine logic is given in Jesus’s command. `
Sure, when He actually gives one we can see applies to the situation at hand.
Put up again thy sword into its place: for all that take the sword shall perish with the sword.` The command is for Peter to put away the sword.
Yup. Still all good so far…
The reason is a principle: All that take the sword will perish with the sword.
No. The reason is that if Jesus does not fulfil his task as determined by God the Father, then Humanity is doomed. The Principle is mentioned in passing as instruction in general terms. Beware you who tend to use a sword to solve problems, for if that is how you live, that is how you will die. He is instructing Peter individually in that moment, cautioning him against his impulsive nature by referencing a principle that applies in this case, because Peter is too dim to understand/see/grasp that Jesus not only knows what He is doing, but is doing it precisely as He needs to do it. So Jesus is basically saying something like: “Peter, you dumb oaf, stay your hand, don’t you know that dumb oafs like you who try to live by the sword end up with a gladius in their guts eventually? Read the room dude! I am Jesus. You think I don’t know what I am doing or can’t get out of this if I wanted to? Not everything is a nail only because you have a hammer (sword) for all your problems! Wakey! Wakey Pete!”
That principle is what I referenced.
Yes, and you referenced it wrongly. Out of context and globally on top of it. See the errors of binary thinking. Repent, Protestant! Back to reason and logic 101 you go!
Those that take the sword will perish with the sword. Kurgan’s first point: > `The referenced passage is not about “I will kill you”`
Drawing a weapon is intent to kill. No intent, leave your weapon in its scabbard. Peter was ready to kill and die for Jesus. Swinging his sword at someone’s head is “I will kill you”. Jesus protected Peter from dying by removing cause for his death. The sword is put away. The wound is healed. The guards have no need to arrest the disciples, just their master.
***
Ah. Let’s add the full quote from SirHamster here, so you know what he’s actually referencing. The red text is him quoting me and the bold below it his response.
Despite the fact that your quote about swords is, I believe, rather out of context. And as such falsifies its meaning rather a lot.
Once you put “I will kill you” on the table, you can’t complain if and when they do it to you first. You have to grudgingly respect that they outplayed you.
There are different games you can play in life. Once you choose to live by certain rules, you are playing a particular game.
Jesus played a game that did not involve killing his opponents.
***
So…umm… YES, you did mean it exactly as I said. In your binary protestant mind, ANY move that can result in death of the opponent is defined in your head as “living by the sword”. But that is a gross simplification and retarded take. There is a world of difference between a man who instinctively reacts to a problem with violence –as Jesus clearly indicates to us Peter was prone to– that is, a ‘hothead type” or even a cold headed one, but a man who literally makes his living by violence, and a man who in defence of say a child or an innocent kills a bad guy intent on murder.
Living by the sword does NOT mean that any action that can result in death of an opponent, even with full intent to kill him, because that is the only option left in that moment to safeguard something you deem is far more valuable than the punishment you might have to endure for this transgression against life, or law, or whatever, qualifies as “living by the sword”. As I said, such a take is, to any persona able to reason normally, a most retarded take.
And there’s an important long-term consequence here: Peter’s life is not defined by death in battle carrying a sword against the Jewish/Roman authorities. The Catholic Church’s first Pope dies by the cross like his Lord and Master, Jesus Christ. He suffers a greater death, and earns a greater glory. This is one lesson of “perish by the sword” – the Christian has better options to serve a greater purpose.
Sure. And certainly Peter’s life was best defined as dying upside down on a cross than by getting killed by Romans. But that was Peter’s path. because of how things were in that specific instance. Now you can argue that Jean Parisot le Valette would have better served Christianity by telling all the Catholic knights in his command, and the the Catholic citizens of Malta, to surrender, and let themselves be tortured, killed and the Maltese populace put the fire and sword, be caputured and subjected to rape and slavery and murder. And shortly after Malta fell, the entire rest of Christendom too can also have submitted themselves as martyr. You could argue for that. But:
1) I would think your argument is completely idiotic.
2) You cannot in good reason and logic explain how that would have demonstrated the glory of God and his Church better than the history which in fact did take place, with the subsequent civilisation of the entire globe wherever Catholicism touched, including the vicious mass-murdering savages of South America, and the limiting of the barbarous and backward Muslims to the lands they had already conquered and put to the fire and the sword for 400 years with little response by Christians.
In other words, the response of the sword to the bestial thugs assaulting Christendom, was, in my humble opinion, not only justified, but the correct one. Not withstanding the fact that having to kill scores of heathens, evil though they may be, is still sub-optimal. Perhaps, a great orator or a Saint so steeped in prayer might have obtained a bloodless win. Sure. It certainly has happened before in other contexts. But I am not such a saint, nor such a pious man. I, like the great philosopher Harry Callahan, know my limitations. So if and when the time comes, I’ll be taking out as many enemies as possible before they do me in.
But the principle itself is a simple truth, and it has simple cold logic like a sword. All who kill die in like manner.
And this is just simply and factually nonsense. Plenty of people killed a bunch of people and then died decades later, peacefully, in their sleep.
It is just. It echoes “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”
Your personal opinion on the matter is not how reality works. Your statement above is simply, and outright false. Proving my point. Furthermore, the statement that those who live by the sword will perish by it, is also, clearly, to be taken metaphorically, that even if you “get away” with killing a bunch of people for fun and profit and do die peacefully in your sleep at an advanced age, ultimately, your destination is still going to be “the sword”. That is, Hell.
It reflects God’s covenant with Noah. `Whosoever shall shed man’s blood, his blood shall be shed: for man was made to the image of God.`
Uh…yeah, so thanks for proving my point that the interpretation, is, indeed metaphorical, rather than literal, as I have just stated.
There might be an objection that the passage about Jesus’s arrest is not about “I will kill you”. Which is true, as the passage is about Jesus. But I didn’t say Jesus’s arrest applied to the situation. I applied Jesus’s stated principle about the sword to Christian violence.
Yes, we noticed. You totally screwed the interpretation up, ignored the clear passage and the metaphorical level too, to simplify it to the most moronic level possible by a binary, blinkered, vision of things. We got it. That’s my point.
And a principle of violence applies to all forms of violence, including the subset of Christian violence. Drawing a weapon is intent to kill, and the principle of “take the sword” applies to all weapons.
Eh. In case you doubted the absurd, absolutist position he takes, he confirms it right here above. I rest my case with respect to moronic binary takes from protestants. I think anyone that can do logic or think normally can see it at this point. And only other blinkered brain-damaged protestants would disagree here.
Kurgan’s 2nd point: > `The passage is about people who make a living with weapons (eg violence)`
Not only. Hotheads too. As I specified above. Again, Sirhamster’s reductionist thinking is in evidence.
Note that making this argument forgoes accepting the logic of the objection I just addressed.
Yes. Wrong, illogical, erroneous “logic” based on completely false premises is not accepted as valid.
Accepting this as true, the passage is applied to those who make a living with weapons – which boils down to soldiers and police.
Ummm, no. It applies also to enforcers in general, thugs, violent men from all walks of life, whether legitimised by government or not.
Those who use violence against the out-group, and those who use violence against in-group. Yet as we see in this situation, Jesus is giving this lesson to one who does not make a living with weapons – Peter, ex-Fisherman and Bravo disciple, and per Catholic belief, appointed Pope.
Yes. Notoriously blustery, hot-headed and impulsive Peter. As he is clearly and variously shown to be throughout the New Testament. One who “lives by the sword” is not necessarily someone who has to be paid to use his sword. It is and can be also someone who is a fisherman but reacts impulsively and violently to a situation that has alternatives to it. Like in the case of Jesus needing to suffer crucifixion in order to save all mankind. You could easily replace that “lives by the sword” with, say “thinks with his fists” same thing.
Christ stated he will build His Church on “this rock” before his arrest. What applies to men of violence is being used for one who does not make his living by weapons, to persuade and instruct him not to take up arms at this point in time. And Peter does not die by the sword. So we Christians who do not make a living by weapons clearly have something to learn from this passage, even accepting it true that it is not about us.
Sure. Everyone has something to learn from the passage. At its most basic: Try to not be one of those idiots who only sees nails because you like using a hammer.
Level 2: If you literally make your living by violence, you will be judged as such and come to a similar end, in this life or the next.
Level 3: When there are alternatives, even if you might not see them, the best Christians respond with martyrdom instead of murderdom.
Possibly level 4 (theoretical only for me anyway): It is always better to suffer the violence your enemy will do to you than to respond with violence. I personally reject this take, think it’s wrong, a lie and not borne out by history.
And that answers Kurgan’s 3rd point, (exact quote) `
It doesn’t apply to me now who earns his living by other means.`
As a follower in Pope Peter’s Catholic Church, Kurgan ought to find something applicable in this passage about Peter to himself.
Always did, even before I knew of the passage’s existence. the Samurai ethic (which is mostly what I grew up with) is very clear that living in the way of budo (bu=war do=way) you obviously accept that death is your ever present companion; and the likelihood of you dying peacefully in your bed is low to none. And I have always hated the “thank you for your service” and “thin blue line” morons. Especially in volunteer armies. You chose to be a soldier or a cop. Getting your ass shot or stabbed or blown up dead is part of the job. Suck it up, buttercup. I certainly never felt myself a “hero” or conversely would I have felt myself a “victim” if I had caught some lead shrapnel in my ass when I was working as a bodyguard/security guy.
Perhaps Kurgan’s doom is not death gun’s blazing, but glorious martyrdom. St. Kurgan pray for us.
Well, personally I hope to die at the age of 105 surrounded by loving family. If not that then at 105 surrounded by my enemies and a deadman switch connected to a ton of C4 that clicks on just as I breathe my last. Dying in martyrdom is really, really low on my list and I tell you right now if that is how I have to go out I’ll be very pissed off about it.
Last point: `It is inaccurate to apply the passage to anyone who might use violence to kill`. Pope Peter was not a man who made his living by the sword. Pope Peter was acting righteously in defense of the Savior of the World. Pope Peter was ready to take up arms to establish Jesus’s kingdom against corrupt authorities. If there is anyone worth killing and dying for, is it not Jesus? But Jesus instructed Peter with this principle, and chose a different death for him.
Yes, because Jesus had a mission that completely went counter to that form of reply. But I don’t have Jesus by my side to “defend”. In fact we are surrounded by clown-world trannies intent on raping our children, “medical” psychopaths intent on killing us through genetic experimentation for their demonic schemes, and a legion of other degenerate demon-infested scumbags hellbent on chaos, pain and murder of all we hold dear. So… yeah, if and when it comes down to it, I’m not gonna go quietly into the night buddy. And frankly, I only have contempt for those who will because of cowardice, rather than a genuine sense of martyrdom.
With that, I consider all of Kurgan’s points answered.
As I said originally. You’re so wrong you’re not even addressing what you think you are.
What surprised me about the comment, and why I consider it a gift, is that all points are so simply answered.
Simple as in simple-minded, yes. But not simple as in true or correct, my friend.
But it is a gift, because this gives me cause to write at length about what I like to talk about. I might have to consider blogging though, this chain of SG comments is rather unwieldy, even with 512 characters. I respect the Kurgan’s intellect. I do not write off-the-cuff against him.
Well, I respect your intent, if not your intellect, friend. You do have good intent, I am sure. And you don’t hold a grudge, which is a great quality and rare. But as far as your capacity for logical and well-reasoned argument… eh… not so much at all.
I can do that for people who are not as smart, as it is easy find obvious flaws in half-baked ideas.
Without wanting to be glib… mote…beam…something about eyes…
Some have accused me of fearing the Kurgan, based on the fact that my moderation on him tends to be lighter than it mayhaps ought.
I harbour no such delusions.
That has more to do with him being smarter than most of his detractors, and they generally fail to understand and address his points.
I appreciate your noticing.
I don’t consider myself to have that limitation, but it takes a bit of work to adopt the right context for engagement.
I’ll (respectfully) disagree here. You have a good natured and honest approach, which often carries water far enough to at times even measure up to intelligent discourse, but ultimately, a certain level of intelligence also is required to get deeper into things. My abrasive nature makes the first quality of good natured honesty difficult for most, which is a simple tool I use to sort the morons from the non-morons. And you certainly pass the first hurdle of not letting your emotions get disturbed by my rhetoric, so I salute that aspect of your character, but, in all honesty, your reasoning ability is still quite a ways from meeting a level of discourse that I would find truly interesting.
All that said, I like the Kurgan, even in his combativeness.
And I like you too, buddy.
We need Christian fighters for our near future, and we must sharpen our iron for the conflicts to come. With respect to Christian violence, do not play the game of the sword lightly. Those who kill will be killed. The glory of death in battle pales in comparison to building God’s Kingdom. Buy your sword, but build.
Can’t fault that last paragraph, which really seems to me to fully support my entire thesis throughout, so I fail to see how you can even disagree with it.
Who says you can’t turn a party girl into a good wife
It’s quite surreal to see my wife put on some rap song to make our new 2 month old daughter fall asleep, which she does, while she sings along to it.
She literally knows the words to just about any song that comes on. Then she modifies them for the new circumstances.
Tom Jones’ Sex Bomb becomes:
Wet Bum, Wet Bum,
You gotta wet bum,
And you-can-count-on-mummy-when-you-need to-clean-it-up
Wet bum, wet bum,
You got a wet bum,
But your mama’s gonna clean it up
If you know the words to the original and the tune, you’ll see it works.
N.E.R.D. ‘S Lapdance becomes:
Oh baby you want me?
Oh baby you want me?
Oh baby you want me, well you can get this boobie juice here for free!
And Fuck the Pain Away by Peaches is almost unchanged:
Sucking on my titties like you wanted me, wanted me, wanted me all the time.
Check out my chrissy behind
And here she is rapping away to Vanilla Ice, which, astonishingly makes the baby fall asleep.
I mean, she did work as a Promo Girl for a nightclub in Spain and again in London, where the basic idea was to entice people into the club, and/or get them to spend thousands on the same crappy drinks you could buy at literally less than a twentieth the price at an off licence (you’d think men only, but you’d be surprised).
It was a classy affair, not like she danced on the bar in skimpy clothes the club sold, and that she also customised herself with scissors so the customers wanted not just the same club logo shirts and hot pants they sold, but the ones that looked like hers.
Tequila shots and fast moving scissors with strobe lights and the club’s theme song playing at deafening level:
It’s gettin’ hot in here (So hot)
So take off all your clothes (Ayy)
I am gettin’ so hot (Uh, uh, uh, uh)
I wanna take my clothes off (Oh)
It’s gettin’ hot in here (So hot)
You probably wouldn’t immediately assume this is where you’d find the right girl to get baptised as a hardcore Sedevacantist Catholic with. Then get confirmed, married, and make three children in 5 years with her. It would have been four but she miscarried the first. Finding myself doing a baptism on her belly at home, when she thought something was wrong, and holding her hand and later holding her, in the hospital, when it was clear the baby was gone, thankfully after only about 6 weeks of pregnancy, is not a feeling I’d wish on anyone, but we found out after it happened that it’s quite common, even if people don’t talk about it much.
From party girl things, to changing nappies, making play-dough, taking them to the park, reading them stories, teaching them the alphabet and how to count, and playing them music and teaching them nursery rhymes, cooking for us all and feeding us and packing all their toys for the beach or worrying about them all having the things they need to run around like the little savages they are outside, even though she’s given up on making them wear shoes. I still harbour hope on that score, but then I do tend to take on impossible projects.
It’s not for everyone, the path that she and I took. As wild as she was, it’s probably inevitable that she could only be with someone like me, that surpassed her own transgressions and wildness, though, opposite to her, always clear-headed, which in a way might be worse.
But the fact is, that the first day I met her, I had a surreal experience that cannot be explained to others, but remains true nonetheless.
She was working as an estate agent by then, still wild every weekend, and it was in fact a Friday when I met her. I’d arranged with an estate agent to see some apartments and taken half a day off work. I had called the guy a few days before to make sure he had a good selection of places. He had assured me he would get keys for all the suitable properties.
I was earning decent money now and wanted to move to a nicer place and leave behind the small apartment I had lived in with my Italian wife, briefly, before we split up a couple of years earlier, and eventually divorced. I called the guy again just before I left work to make sure he had the keys, since, as a freelancer any time off I took I didn’t get paid. He assured me he had all the keys and he would meet me outside the Wapping tube station. So I went. Got there… no one. I called the guy up to see if maybe he was running late. In a bored voice he told me he wouldn’t be coming today because he didn’t have the keys. I told him where he could put his keys and hung up. Directly across the station was another estate agency. I could see through the window that the only guy in the office was playing solitaire on his desktop. I could actually see his screen.
I went in and said hello and that I wanted to view some properties.
“Oh I’m sorry, I’m too busy right now, could you come back later.” It wasn’t a question and his glazed-over eyes returned to the screen.
“Yeah, I can see. Real busy.”
I left and decided my afternoon was shot anyway, so I may as well enjoy a walk. The area had a certain organic charm that is not too common in London, and despite it being early November the sun was out. As I walked along the cobbles I saw another estate agency in a pale yellow face brick building with the entrance being a diagonal that cut off the corner of the building. As I approached it I could see through the big glass window most estate agencies have a young woman sitting at her desk. She was stunning even at this distance, but I purposely looked away. I was here to find an apartment. I wanted to move. I didn’t want to be distracted by yet another pretty girl. It’s not like I was short of them anyway. But this one, she would be hard to ignore, so I looked away. Inside were other people. I’d just go the the blond man I could see sitting at another desk, and not even glance at the pretty woman. I’d not taken three steps into the place and realised the guy was as gay as a pink flamingo in a chicken coop. As I approached him he did that whole, look at you up and down thing in an obvious and obvioulsy gay way. I gritted my teeth and said “Hi, I’d like to see some apartments”. That’s how badly I wanted to avoid the girl. I hadn’t even snuck a peek to my right. He gave me the once over again, then waved in the direction of the same young woman, “She’ll look after you.”
Dammit. I tried. Really tried. Well, ok. Never mind. I can focus on the apartment, no matter how hot she looks.
“Hi, I wanted to see some apartments.”
She looks up, her eyes are brilliant blue, transfixing if I was a weaker man. That slightly bored, slightly dismissive, slightly lazy look that Estate Agents worldwide seem to have crosses her pretty face, and she says:
“What… now?”
Fuck this! Must have crossed my face in that instant.
“Yes, now.”
Without batting an eyelid her demeanour changes, she springs up, she has on a white blouse and faded jeans with black high heel shoes.
“Oh, okay, I think we have a place here, close by, let me get the keys and I’ll show you.”
She walks us across the road and leads the way up a flight of stairs. I can’t remember if it was already inside the apartment or on the way to some internal door to it. She opens doors, shows me rooms. Says what they are. I don’t speak. When we are done she leads the way back down the stairs. I am not trying to see it. I just do, she has a frilly white edge on her knickers. They are so close to the edge of the jeans waist I see it.
We step back outside in the sunlight and she asks, “So, what do you think?”
“I have no idea, I don’t even know how many rooms it has.”
She turns to look at me, but calm.
“You’re quite distracting.”
She doesn’t flinch. “Oh. Thanks.”
She keeps quiet a bit, as we walk back towards her office, then she says, “I think there is another place you’d like, but I am not sure if I can get the keys.”
I stay quiet again.
“We can try.” She poses it as a question with her eyes, so I nod.
She makes a call, she can’t get the keys, because they are from another agency that they sometimes work with, but she drives us on to the place anyway, then speaks to the security guys at the concierge desk. The poor bastards don’t stand a chance. She smiles, shakes her head, comes up with some story about how she had the keys but someone else at the office hasn’t returned yet and could she borrow the spare set to show her client the property. They happily hand the keys over, managing not to drool when they both smile like small children just being shown a huge candy.
She shows me this apartment that has a view over the Thames. It’s good. I like it. I say ok. but I want to get away from her now. She is distracting and I want to put my mind on other things. I don’t want to be doing that dance again with yet another pretty woman, plus she’s English, she looks beautiful, it’s true, but that’s probably it. I mean she’s smart, fast on her feet, but no, I want to stop doing this pussy-hunter thing, at least for today. I just want to move apartment and get a kind of clean slate. So I move away from her, heading for the door, I want to get out of here and away. She doesn’t follow. She stays looking out the big window at the river below us. Forcing me to turn and wait for her by the door.
“Seeing this,” she says, without turning to look at me, “doesn’t it make want to leave?”
I am taken slightly aback by her unusual and unprompted question.
“…Leave…London?”
Now she turns and looks at me. “Leave everything.”
And in that moment, when she turned to look at me, in one fraction of a second I got a flash-forward. I had flash-forwards a few times before, at least twice it saved my life. The image of a snake coming at me from behind, to bite me, and another time of someone at a concert running up behind me with a knife in-hand to stab me with. Both things would have happened if I had not acted on this image, premonition, flash-forward, call it what you want. But this was different.
I saw her in the now, but also in the far future, the same, the same distance between us, but old now, and with a hat on I think, and yet, her. Always her. The brilliant blue eyes, and smiling at me, which she wasn’t doing right now, not that way at least. A smile complicit of many years together, a love between us that encompassed all the insane, strange, beautiful, ugly, scary, things of our life and the ones we had lived through together, and between us, four lights, each a child, I could not say if male or female or what they would look like, just a kind of floating light, like disembodied souls to come. Her face, both beautiful as the here and now and also as the old and wrinkly. Like my own would be in that time, but still her. Always her, and beautiful even then, in old age.
It all happened in a tiny sliver of time, but it had within it, as if compressed into a laser bolt of information, years, decades, a lifetime. It was like a sledgehammer to my entire nervous system.
Years of karate in a hard dojo, other martial arts, and living and working with a gun for over a decade, meant my face didn’t show anything, but inside, it was as if I had taken a punch. One of those that makes you see blinking lights.
“Do you want me to show you the gardens?”
I nodded. Didn’t trust myself to speak for a second or two.
What the hell was that? Who is she?
We go outside and we look at the gardens laid out like a simple but tasteful patchwork of paths and trimmed hedges and reddish-brown face brick. And I get another flash. This one a memory. From about ten years earlier. I dreamt of this place. It makes no sense, but occasionally I have had dreams of something that eventually happens in the future. Sometimes I also have very vivid dreams with a really complicated plot that end, and then years later I have another dream that picks up where that one left off, like a kind of part II to a film. And being here, in this place, now I remembered the dream. This place, which I had never been to before, ever, for certain, was exactly as the dream I had. And I remembered that in the dream there was a statue of some old man, or Troll type thing, that said Old Father Thames on it. It was in the corner of the garden, you couldn’t see it from here. I asked her if she would just wait for me for a second, as I had to go and check something.
She said ok and I ran off. I went to that corner, and there it was.
I knew enough about myself, because I had had premonitory dreams before, and flash-forwards —though usually only in life and death situations— that I knew I wasn’t crazy. Well, probably not anyway. I walked back. Calm now. Not even curious, just surprised. And she was waiting for me. Brown jacket zipped up now as the sun was going down and it was getting colder. A white scarf framed her smiling face with her impossibly blue eyes. And then I knew.
Oh. Ok. She’s the one.
And she was. Though it would be more than ten years later before we got together properly.
We had a very brief, half-drunk, half-night stand, a few months later, then invariably her, or me would end up with some person or other. She’d come close then pull away again and I told her repeatedly to either get in and find out or leave me be. But over the years she would always eventually get in touch again. Then I had a daughter, and I forgot about her. That marriage ended in spectacularly dramatic and ugly fashion. Then she had a daughter.
In 2016 I moved from London and was working in Venice and Kazakhstan, and flying all over the place, and we started to text each other on Telegram. Just philosophy and life stuff. I was on my own mostly, with an off and on again quasi-relationship with a woman that was probably possessed, and her own relationship was basically collapsing.
In 2017 I moved back to London and she helped me pick out furniture for the new apartment I was renting. She was on her own again.
We went to dinner. We kissed.
Then she disappeared for three days, as she usually did. I didn’t call or text her, I kind of knew how she was and I was tired of the ten year old dance.
She called after midnight one night.
“I tried to not think about you.” She said.
“How’s that going?” I asked. I was sitting at my dining room glass table, it was round and not very big, on the 16th floor, the view of the Thames and the lights below me. I had a tired hint of a smile on me. I wasn’t tired because of the late hour.
“Not good.” She paused a while. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“So? What you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know…”
“How long have you been doing this? You come close, then you pull away, then I tell you to get lost, then some weeks, or months, or years pass, then you get in touch and we do it all again. Aren’t you tired of it? I am.”
“Well? So what am I supposed to do? Just move in tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
She laughed.
“What you got to loose? Do it. Let’s find out once and for all if this thing is something or nothing. At least we’ll know.”
“Ok then.”
“You’re moving in tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
We both laughed. I told her I’d get a roast for lunch.
I expected her to just come for lunch, maybe spend some time. Talk. Maybe more. Maybe not. It was fine. I liked time with her, I was never bored talking with her. And she was easy to look at.
I got the roast, started it late because I knew she was always late. But today she wasn’t. She called me from downstairs, asked if I could help her bring some stuff up. I said sure and went down.
She had brought her daughter, her travel cot and a bag of clothes and toiletries.
I laughed.
We both assumed she would leave after a couple of days of hanging out together.
She never did.
Like I said, it’s not for everyone. Our story sort of reminds me of the film Payback, with Mel Gibson. In the last scene, he’s missing a couple of toes, killed all the bad guys, got his money and as she’s driving them away, he says:
“We were going for breakfast. In Canada. We made a deal. If she’d stop hooking, I’d stop shooting people. Maybe we were aiming high.”
And yet, here we are, and it works for us.
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By G | 13 February 2023 | Posted in Relationships, Sedeprivationism, Social Commentary, Stupid PUAs