The Apple of My Eye

The God That Failed

For the sake of an evenhanded treatment of every character in this story, let's take a look at the whole status quo from a different point of view, shall we? Let us review the thoughts and judgments that may well have been crossing these women's minds as events unraveled.

For starters, if the measure of a man's greatness is determined by what drive he brings into a woman's life and how he makes this woman feel—especially, but not exclusively, when she's with him—then I was doing a pretty crummy job by all accounts. Every one of the most important women in my life was feeling despondent, and I was the only one to blame, no two ways about it.

Let us begin with the leading lady in this story. Star was living in suspension, so to speak, having seemingly paused her life, waiting to be fed my crumbs of attention, waiting for a resolution, for an absolution, even. Whenever I was not around, you could say Star did nothing but hold her breath. And given the fact that, when I wasn't available, she chose to spend her afternoons and evenings completely on her own, she had plenty of time on her hands to realize that's what she had been doing for more than two years now: holding her breath. This girl had been holding her breath for longer than she could remember. The restlessness must have begun to creep around her again, that familiar feeling she had experienced the year before, when David was away deejaying at some stupid party and she found herself alone, crying, waiting, hoping. Star had changed jobs, boyfriends, and whereabouts, but the overall feeling still hung on. She hadn't detected it at first, but after several weeks, the pattern was persistent, she couldn't deny it. Could she have been unintentionally seeking that same sensation, that familiar numbness all along? Or was she destined to be involved with men who were out there canvassing the big wide world, living their lives, while she waited patiently for them to return?

Now wait a minute. Didn't she have a say in any of this? Didn't she have her part to play, too? Wasn't she ultimately responsible for looking after her happiness and well-being, rather than relying on some dude to do it for her? Did she do the right thing by living in suspension or was she wasting her fucking time? Would the release she had been waiting for ever come? And when it came, would it be what she needed?

Sure, when she met me, there was this whole aura of mischievousness and misconduct surrounding my persona. It was me she fell for, all my flaws and imperfections included, and she must have entertained second thoughts about the world she was willingly walking into. I had been described to her as immature at best. A man who was turned on by any woman that paraded into his office. A man who thrived on sexual tension. A man possessing an inaccurate, exaggerated sense of power that only small power can engender. A man who believed he had an effect on every woman who crossed his path. A man who had cheated on so many women on so many occasions. A man addicted to the excitement of being with a different woman every day and every night, especially those of the unavailable variety. A thrill seeker who was unable to find gratification by building and deepening a relationship. For all she knew, if I was not two-timing her already, it was only because I hadn't been tempted yet. There was no way my damaged ethical and emotional framework, which had led me to so much messing around before, had been miraculously remodeled now that I was with her. How could she trust a man with that sort of track record? Could I really be the love of her life? Her prince charming? How could she put her present, her future, in the hands of a man who could very well never have stopped being the royal asshole he appeared to be when she first heard of him?

Of course, this was not quite the way Star felt about me—at least I hoped it wasn't. But at some point or other, she may have harbored these thoughts, right? I know I would have, had I been in her shoes.

Now let's focus on my estranged wife for a moment. Here was a woman who had done fundamentally nothing wrong as far as her conduct was concerned. All she ever did was look out for her best interests and the interests of her family. Was that so wrong? Sure, she had maybe exceeded the amount of passion she'd done it with, losing her cool a few too many times, acting out-and-out temperamental and volatile every now and again, but was it really her fault? Or had I driven her to those extremes?