Trust and Mistrust, Truths and Lies

Trust and Mistrust, Truths and Lies

I told a woman she was safe with me. I didn't tell her she had to believe me. I didn't tell her several women prior to her had denounced me, vociferously and wrongly, after I turned my back on them when I discovered they were frauds, emotionally and intellectually. Ironically they all told me I was a nobody and was no way superior to them intellectually. The women, deep down, must have thought I was naive and stupid and forever in their snare and lair. They rhetorically demanded evidence and proofs that I was better than they were. They wanted to know what my "achievements" were. So I listed ten "achievements" of mine on top of my head and shoved them to their faces. I just couldn't believe they were so fucking stupid and blind about who they and others were. But then I realized they were indeed stupid and blind and that explained how their lives had turned out. Denials and excuses were part of the make-up of losers. They couldn't face and accept realities. So when I decided to walk away from them, they ran after me and screamed obscenities at me and called me names. They painfully realized I finally knew their true nature because nobody walked away from a good, rare thing while everybody stayed away from rot, filth, sewage, garbage, and lies. 

I shared with them facts and truths about my life and they are using them against me. I maintained silence and they called me a coward for not talking to them while they believed in God and prayed for the creation in their mind for help, and I didn't. They were so stupid that the irony lost on them. Hell has no stronger fury than a woman scorned. One woman even told to my face that I was a lousy lay. I didn't have the heart to tell her I was a stud in bed with Harriette. I let her live with a delusion about my virility. I didn't want to inflame her jealousy and sink her further in shame with her realization that maybe because of her, I was such a poor performer. She couldn't get beyond the obvious. She was not smart enough, She was never an intellectual who was curious about ideas. She never was interested in philosophy. She didn't know with the right woman, I could be and can be virile, caring, tender, and patient man. We bring to others what they arouse in us. So I let on publicly after her insult, that yes, it was correct that I am lousy in bed and I don't even like sex. Yes, I lied and told the truth at the same time, to help her preserve a wholesome image she had of herself. I was kind to her, deep down. She didn't know that. She was busy to find faults. And yet she was a woman at one time I thought I was in love with. What a terrible judge of character I was. Maybe deep down myself, I am not a very smart man, as Harriette repeatedly told me and was obligated to protect me. She said she would continue looking after me and would wring the neck of any woman who would harm me or go after my money which received a mild boost after she died. May she rest in peace. There are times I could hear her shuffling footsteps and the noise she made in the kitchen of the condo. She was always cooking or fussing around in the kitchen while singing all those Vietnamese songs in the 1960's. She had a good voice. She could be a professional singer. Because of her, I picked up singing. And my spoken speech has improved. I am now more mindful of breath control and articulation. How I miss her! But on the other hand, all what I have been writing for the last ten minutes or so could be lies just to make me feel good and loved. The road to Truth passes through many gates of lies. 

Anyway, as I have said ad nauseam, we only love those whom we understand and respect and from whom we derive feelings of peace and gratefulness. All my life is a struggle not so much to gain the respect from others as a respect for myself. I made mistakes and am now regaining inner equilibrium. The word "inner" is redundant. It's used for emphasis. All sentient beings strive for peace within. We must have peace within before we can bring out to others. We must really know silence before we can talk. Peace and then Love come from deep, not superficial, understanding. Once we really understand, all cravings and attachments drop. And silence comes naturally. 

We hate others in what we hate in ourselves. And I don't hate myself. Not anymore. I have worked very hard to like and love myself. I have become a philosopher. I now can practice silence and stay in silence. The funny thing is that I am not really a chaser after women. I make my interest known. And that's it. I am lazy and very proud. After A and L, I lost all interest in chasing. I can't run after women anymore. I barely walk. And I'm tired. Meanwhile I drag my aging body to the gym and force myself to eat healthy and try to be silent in the face of provocations.  

Being nice and kind and silent. That's my mantra these days. I don't call myself a Buddhist. I call myself an atheist with an attitude and I smile a lot, even when alone. 

Yes, I used to call her name in the privacy of my home or the hotel room when I travelled on business. I used to ache for her. I was a fool. Year after year I was pining and yearning for an illusion, wondering what if this and what if that. And then somehow and slowly a strange awareness took hold of me and made me realize that maybe, yes, maybe I was "better" than her and that she didn't really deserve me. When Harriette was alive, I told her about her and asked what her thoughts were. Here was what Harriette told me, per my recollection:

"You're full of nonsense and shit. Wise up. She didn't give a fuck about you. Never did and never will. Okay, you were only a boy and you romanticized certain feelings to give you an anchor as you were tossed around in the storm of romantic feelings. That was fine and dandy when you were a kid. But you are an old man now. An old man is supposed to have wisdom. Where is it? Show it to me! See? You cannot show it to me because you have none. Understand? Be a realist otherwise you'll get hurt again and again. Okay, you can certainly mine those fantasies for "literary" productions, but don't let the fantasies bite you in the ass, because baby, this world is not for dreamers. I ain't no dreamer. I took one good look at you. I looked at your eyes and your smiles. And I decided to come over and introduce myself. We talked. I knew then you were just a babe in the woods. You needed a mama to teach you the ways of the world. So here I am. You are very lucky that I really love you, otherwise you would be in the world of hurts already. Be strong and be real. Take good care of you. Nobody, absolutely nobody understands and loves you as I do. Stop dreaming."

Two days later, at dinner time Harriette died in my arms of a heart attack. I had told her to stay away from that red meat shit and that she needed to lose weight and exercise, but she didn't listen. Tomorrow is the first anniversary of her death. I miss her badly. She was absolutely the best thing that ever happened to me. She opened my eyes to many positive things about women. I really doubt if I meet another who would be as good to me as she was. She made me understand the full meaning of grace and good luck.