This is a real conversation I had with a friend. Both of us were discussing how sophomoric petty or sentient critical should a contemplative factoring be in deciding the consequence of a furthering relationship —continue or quit? (lacking or lost some cards in that hugsy beefcake) Both of us concluded that even the reasoned or uncanny vibe about the termination of a relationship hardly matters with move-on as the parted woman would have met again her next matched beefcake. Even the lamest or unreasoned excuse in former prospect doesn’t rankle as life opens up with subsequent choices in the progressive playoff on continue or quit (lacking or lost some winsome cards in b-cakes). What I observe in modern romances is that Esther Perel’s uphill walking out of happy positions to be in happier prospects because the times we live in are facilitating to match with beefcakes and fishcakes of our fuss till we are exhausted of upping our cards in our unsteady pursuit not from our inability to find the next partner but from our weariness and realisation that the next man would invariably be better than the previous good man, that’s when she settles with the current man. An urban and outgoing woman could fuss on her agreeable cards with a prospective beefcake as much in today’s world because of the next beefcake after the nearly beefcake till she is disenchanted or disinclined to explore who-next in the line-up of upward suitors. It’s easier (Facebook, networking, work, trek, common friends) to find men of our temperamental befitting and hearty cards in the deck today than it was in the past. Hence the nudge to my baffled friend, check the next b/c.
I wonder if you were already "there" with an indefinite-leave-to-remain stamp when that Britcom show "Coupling" was on TV (2000-'04). I saw it in America; it was popular among those who like Public Television shows. (in that show)There were a closeknit group of friends attempting to go from happy to happier... and then wondering if all that exertion is getting them a happier-than-before scheme at all. If you have the time, it is a good show to watch -- nicely dosed in 30 minute episodes. I was attracted to it by its theme song.... and then ended up watching the whole series.
I missed the show. Will check. Depends on who is behind the screenplay. (1) people wanting to do something (happy to happier) but constrained would portray the probabilistic outcome as miserable. (2) people who have done it (happy to happier) are too occupied in their “goofy” lives to bother dramatising their story to bust the myth. Same for every unorthodox gumption. People who have thrived in that aspiration never bother to contest the popular theory of misery through ambition.
Western Culture, and Older women. Mary Pipher's book. Audio link: Mary Pipher Celebrates Power of Older Women in 'Women Who Row North'
Will look up Mary Pipher. Meanwhile: why no fictional stories from you? Chal, let’s scribble a drama saga, you write an episode and I will alternate. Ekdam 4D story likhenge!
Forty Thoughts on a Fourth Daughter – Mark Oppenheimer – Medium Curious.. “My friend Gerardo tells me that there is Caribbean Spanish slang for men who only produce daughters: chancletero, from chancleta, “slipper” — that is, I am a man who wears slippers. A slipperisto, if you will. Nobody knows, etymologically speaking, why a man who makes only daughters is thought to be a man in slippers. Is it because he is not man enough to wear shoes? Is it because he must tread softly? Or is it because your daughters will always fetch your slippers for you. (Mine, ages 6, 4, 3, and two months, do not fetch my slippers.)”
I am already writing fictional stories.... they are my posts. Writing even half-a-saga is a big commitment. This forum is time pass, as well as educational (learning what IL's think on various issues); just to wander by on one's own schedule. What is a "4D" story ?
Creation of fiction? If I may send some farmayish like Rampur se Kailashnath in Vividh Bharati's Man Chaahe Geet of yore: Instead of pretty, sassy heroines, and heroes who are rich, handsome, in management in Manhattan, flying business class, how about a story about aam janta. A short, stout, brown hero from TCS or Wipro working for $40 an hour, religiously tracking Trump's H1 changes. A girl yet to find herself.
Emma toyed with the manuscript of time-honored and value-oriented sentimentality of aam janta a while ago beyond her intrinsic enthusiasm. Mr Knightley was aghast at the contrived virtue. He was leery! He reprimanded that the fluffy and brow-fraught Emma should stick to her well-heeled women in whirlwind romances with maverick entrepreneurs swishing plastic cards, sloshing ginger beer, and bikini-holidaying whilst discussing the architectural finery of Eero Saarinen with no stricken hold and meena kumari drama, if she is scrittering fiction to her brutalised, if any, taken-the-wrong-turn audience turn up. Emma lost her self esteem that day, in fact, bawled like meena kumari that day, and swore off from venturing into life-affirming plots of good-natured people in their reckoning affairs in the bickering households of aam janta. (She persisted in her glazed romances!)
