The Unbruised and Unbruisable as opposed to the Bruised
March 9, 2012 § 86 Comments
Long talk to Janey just now and her wisdom on every subject knows no bounds (education, marriage, children, teenagers, friendships, family, politics, life). She is more than a member of my family and a true and proper friend; she is a guru.
She told me she had sat next to one of my former twinkles last night – not one who had twinkled at all for me, I may say, but for whom I had apparently twinkled – and he had not asked her a single question all evening (except to find out her marital status so as to discover if she was a potential or not), but had instead boasted for much of it about his success with women, even though that success was not entirely in evidence in the form of a living, breathing gorgeous pouting Result on his arm, for he was very clearly on the prowl.
Her advice was that I must never go for the unbruised or unbruisable, which is what he is and, I fear, Long Shot is too (though LS is nothing like this man; much more modest and shy and less boastful). It is always better to give a wide berth to the bachelor who has never had to take anything but the tiniest amount of responsibility for anybody or anything other than himself, ever, and for whom emotions, let alone emotional fall-out, are as far from his ken as other-worldly happenings in science-fiction.
No, said Janey so rightly, far better the bruised who are in the process of recovering or who have actually recovered (small window, as we know, before they are snapped up but, hey, Janey currently has a couple in mind, including the one who asked for my number a while ago but who never rang just because, we reckoned – and I hoped – the timing was wrong and he was still too raw from the horrid break-up of his marriage). We came up with two examples of (married) men we both know and love who have become much, much nicer and better people for having had a few knocks. The arrogance and spoilt petulance of youth has given way spectacularly in both cases to modesty, compassion, empathy and humility. The kind of Brighton rock selfishness that is worn so garishly on the sleeves of one or two bachelors we can name, completely precludes even a whiff of such qualities.
In the interests of fairness and balance, I must say that this is also true of some women as well as men. But because I am lumbered with being marrow-bone heterosexual, it’s the men that concern me, obviously. And it’s the men who seem, somehow – though perhaps women are just as bad, it’s just I am not seeing it in them so much – to have this bachelor ego thing going just a little bit worse?