The other ones

10 03 2012

I attended a reading for seniors who had taken a creative non-fiction/memoir writing workshop from the cool Ivan E. Coyote earlier this month.  There were a number of very interesting selections from people, and I actually didn’t expect some of them to be so heavy and full of emotions.  There was one in particular that made me think, and I’m not sure in a good way or bad.

A woman was telling her story about a guy her friend had met randomly one day.  Her friend then brought him over one day so the three of them could all hang out.  This woman then recalled how she basically fell in love at first sight with this guy, which wouldn’t seem so bad if 1. she didn’t already have a boyfriend, and 2. her friend was interested first in this guy.  The entire story was romantic and almost fairytale-like; the two of them eventually got together and ended up getting married.  The End.

All I could think about while she read this story to the audience was, “What about her boyfriend?  What about her friend?  Doesn’t anyone care about them?”  I couldn’t but feel like in some way, her boyfriend got screwed over, that his feelings weren’t considered as she gushed on and on about this handsome prince who had come into her life.  In some ways, I feel like that guy– neglected, expendable, replaceable for something better, not worth noting.  The one whose feelings aren’t considered.


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