My French Wine Baron left for the south on Tuesday mid-day after meeting with his Master's thesis director here in Paris. I was sad to see him go, but he said if I was "sage" he'd be back to see me on Friday afternoon. I suppose this is not yet goodbye...I am not sure what it is.
Monsieur Engineer has since called to see when I'm free, as has Monsieur Lawyer, as have several other prospects. But I admit I am tiring a bit of playing the part of the Butterfly when I know I am not one.
* * *
It seems to me there are two broad categories of twenty somethings....the Butterflies and the Arrows. Butterflies flit from experience to experience, young and full of running. They seek happiness in the ephemeral and temporary existence of sensations and excitations, hunting for the next high, whether it be with a job, or travel, or with romantic possibilities. They do not stop to think about what effect their flitting and fleeting might have on other people, experimenting with several versions of their life and their identity all at once.They paint the town red only to paint it red or blue or yellow a few minutes or hours later, swiping their paintbrush broad across the scope of life, afraid that if they settle for any one color or commit to any one hue, they will forever be locked in to the bland and monotonous prison of familiarity.
The Butterflies intend no ill will to anyone. They are simply--and without conscience--so bewitched in their flitting they cannot stop to think of any possible consequences. They do not know what it is they want and, bewildered by the possibilities, try a bit of everything only to figure out they still may not know what they want.
Then there are the Arrows. Perhaps a bit timid, or reserved, but not necessarily. Certainly more cautious and highly self-aware. The Arrow knows what it wants and concentrates its efforts to attain what it wants. The Arrow aims his or her targets well, knows it is about the journey and not the destination, and wants genuine interaction--in quality and not quantity--to enrich his or her life. The Arrow does not need to bounce from person to person, but recognizes someone with whom it could be compatible upon meeting and is eager to give that person an honest chance. The Arrow, unlike the Butterfly, just wants to hit the center of the target, and world-weary, rest itself upon something solid and concrete.
* * *
Life revolves on an axis of patterns, and currently my life is playing out great arcs of pattern between my FWB and E. I met them both a year ago, and within the space of two weeks, and they are currently both affecting my present. After FWB left, and I was admittedly sad, I ended up seeing E. I am beginning to pity him.
He's living out the remains of heartbreak warfare with his Ex, and in the solid throes of the death grip of dying illusions about her character, he stated to me that she was a "papilloneuse," or a butterfly. And like so many other twenty something women (the Ex in question is in her late twenties), he is tired of butterflies who use men for their own selfish purposes.
I then thought about how I am not a papilloneuse, how strange it is to me to be parading around as one. I do not want to use these men I am seeing. I want to meet one good, honest one. I have been repeating this on end. How can I ever convey my genuine heart if I am seen as a papillonneuse? I just want One.
E then mentioned that not all women are Butterflies. There are some who, even at a very young age, are ready to commit for the long term. Who are genuine and real. The Arrows.
" I fall more into that category," I nodded.
" I know," he said back. " I know you do." He had barely slept, looked like hell, and his eyes were watering, covered with a film of repressed anguish.
Life also has a funny way of reversing roles, and I have always been convinced that when the proverbial student is ready, the teacher appears. I feel like right now, I am the teacher. It is becoming clearer and clearer to me that despite me being younger than he, I am more sure and more certain of the world around me, see with more analytical clarity than he does. I am afraid that perhaps my youth is rendering me judgemental, that of course I can only see things from one side, but I know enough and I've seen enough to know that his story can--and never will--end well. He refuses to withdraw from the war, however. I have told him to lache prise on his Ex, it is futile, not because I want to be with him. I am realizing how good it is that I am NOT, and now I do NOT want to be at all.
He is shocked that the person he thought his Ex was is not the person she is now. I have been through this. I have tried to hunt down a Fugitive.
* * *
In Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time, Marcel falls in love with a young woman named Albertine. Albertine is a Butterfly, and Marcel her prisoner. He is held captive by the way she entrances him, and his love for her. But Albertine is also attracted to women, and she plays with boundaries and barriers in such a way that Marcel is tortured by her. He gives her everything and she nearly destroys him. She escapes him and she is a Fugitive..
We all have our Fugitives. Those people who snare us and capture us and we chase after them until we are nearly rendered into oblivion. Those for whom we would risk going to the edge of desire and destruction. I have met my "Albertine," and I have survived.
I am twenty-four and I have learned this lesson. It is time E learned it too.
* * *
I refuse to hunt Fugitives. I refuse to be an eternal Butterfly. One day my youth will leave me and I will be left with her evanescence and shadow and scent. I will feel the air for the silk of her memory and the palpable sensation that she was there. And in her absence, I just want One.
For now I am wondering if FWB is One. I shared with my Mom, who is undeniably one of my best friends, how scared and sad I was for him to leave.
" Just enjoy for now," she said. "You will know if FWB is the right one for you."
Will I?
I texted him to make sure he got back safe to Avignon last night, told him not to stay so far away for eleven months again. He responded that he had, and to keep him posted about my availability. I told him I'd be free for a weekend at the end of October, that I could finally come south if he wanted.
For me, the One is as much about compatibility as it is a choice. You chose to be with someone and you chose to say "you are the one I want. I commit to you." I am ready to chose the FWB. I am simply afraid that he will turn into a Butterfly, or that he already is one and I do not know it.
I will always be an Arrow.
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