The Luxury of Hindsight.

Self-analysis and the adjustment to realities.

By Stanley Collymore

 

Would I really want to change anything if I had the chance to live my life

all over again? My honest answer, with the full benefit of hindsight,

is yes - I most certainly would! For there’s the egalitarian period

I went through, thinking that all I ever had to do - apart from

being responsible and good - was to be my usual self

with others; and, therefore, they’d not only

understand but, more importantly,

appreciate as well the human

side of me: the inner man.

 

But this approach, alas, didn’t work; and that trusting and naive phase

of my developing, adult life was thankfully short-lived. A time

when it seemed quite obvious to me that I was the only one

who was always prepared to give while getting little or

nothing back in return. Yet this discrepancy came

not from casual strangers who I’d met, as one

would normally expect, but overwhelmingly

from those who’d seek me out -

ostensibly, with no regret, to be the

unwitting target of their

contrived game.

Simpletons? Or, more sinisterly,

minds that were unhinged or, even

worse, irrevocably deranged?

 

Nevertheless, I took a long, hard look at myself and decided

there and then: that from that moment onwards I’d never

knowingly allow either my abilities or ambitions to

ever again be circumscribed or nullified by the

cynical and selfish whims of women or men

with parochial attitudes and jingoistic

minds; or brains - it must be said - if

previously they ever existed,

were long since dead!

 

I was, after all, a free spirit: relatively wise, gifted and endowed

with an astute mind and sound intelligence; none of which I was

prepared to forfeit or willingly compromise. Consequently,

I was determined that should I ever become personally

involved again with someone of the opposite sex, the

very essence of that quest would specifically be to

find a partner of the cerebral kind: a genuinely

discerning female with interests well beyond the latest

banal TV soaps or fashion catalogues, with whom I

could conduct a dialogue of substance; and not

forever be immersed in a diatribe of facile

discourse born of untutored thoughts:

themselves reinforced by latent

xenophobia and ignorance.

 

It’s not as if the mating game or selfish and unthinking procreation -

alas now rife - have suddenly and inexplicably become a major

priority for me; let alone my sole remit in life. For what I

value most of all in any relationship - great or small -

are trust, respect, loyalty and genuine friendship:

a sincere compact of lasting characteristics,

which for me mean a great deal more

than just hopping into bed at every turn

or given opportunity with which I’m fed,

to cover some compliant female: whose glaring

inadequacies and striking ambivalence about her

own sexuality and what she genuinely wants from life

are a thinking man’s graveyard; and very often, as well,

the Genesis of immeasurable impending disappointments,

unmitigating disasters and, unsurprisingly, unrelenting strife.

 

Therefore, whichever of the groupings you opt to fall into: my

implacable enemy or devoted friend; it’s against this backdrop,

and it alone, that any objective judgements of me should

be honed and ultimately depend - not based on idle

speculation or wild, subjective perceptions

gleaned from cursory snapshots

fashioned arbitrarily that bear no true resemblance to this

man you see, and whose ethical benchmark is his very

own. Its moral standards set by him alone and not

devised or influenced in any way, either by the

actions of others or what they have to say.

 

© Stanley V. Collymore.

30 November 1997.