Stepping on it

Something quite funny happened today. Mark managed to step on the cat and Watson in two successive steps. Both animals sank their teeth into his feet, so he was howling and skipping not knowing which injured foot to lean on.

It is terrible to laugh, because I am sure that it’s not a laughing matter, but I couldn’t help myself and had to sit down on the floor so I wouldn’t fall over because the look on his face was priceless, as well as the looks on both the cat’s and the dog’s faces as they scurried out of danger.

That is the danger of living with animals. It is not all fun and games, you know. Sometimes they have a knack of putting tails and limbs where you’re about to step. Then you’re rewarded by a yelp and then a snap. Watson has snapped at me, of course. No dog-owner can avoid that happening.

Now Mark is lying in the sofa with his feet up and big band-aids on both feet, and he glares at me whenever I see it and start to giggle again. I suppose I should be supportive and understanding in this his hour of need.

Instead I had to go up to the office where he could not see my giggles, although I’m sure he hears it downstairs. I’ll go down and placate him later when his pride has mended a little bit. Maybe he can then see how damned funny it was.

There is a game of love

Daft Punk, “The game of love”

Sometimes I suspect that love is a big game where the rules are not nice or moral or even particularly admirable. Sometimes it seems that the game of love is about selfishness and fulfilling immediate needs. One of my friends cajoled his girl into something, unimportant what, and now the girl has left him. Yes… he loves her, and is devastated, so his game destroyed what he had.

There was a case in New Zealand that I read about where a thirty-six year old woman became pregnant, and the father was an eleven year old boy. In most circumstances there would be statutory rape charges, accusations of pedophilia flying, and the woman would be hounded by the press and the public. In the comment field of that article the tone of it all is that the eleven year old was “a lucky bastard”.

It seems to me to be a case of manipulation on the part of the adult to fulfil her immediate need, without disregard for the feelings and even the status of the other party. My friend’s thing wasn’t anywhere near so serious, and could be disregarded as a fairly typical thing in the tug of war, in the game, of love. I mean, who hasn’t offered say pity sex, or received it? Who hasn’t persisted when the other one initially has said no?

I’m sure there are times when Mark more than anything wants to claim he has a headache, but he cuddles with me anyway. And there have been times when I’m not exactly there. In both cases we have relented out of sympathy or pity because of the other party’s insistence. This was more along the lines what went on with my friend, but he pushed it too much, and the girl ended up not liking it, and ended the relationship.

And I’m left wondering how selfish or greedy this game of love really is. Is it always about the other party? Is it always nice and romantic and altruist and self-effacing? Or is love just a base emotion that is feed by grasping clinginess that mask itself as a positive? I think Mark need to give me a hug, but maybe that’s just selfish need speaking and not love?