In an effort to procrastinate my date with reality (workload, so little time), I attended an open literature discussion at the library. A visiting professor was here for a few days and this was the last session. I needed the time out so that was where I spent my afternoon.
All in all, it was an interesting discussion. The discussion changed course from “The Story of the Hour” by Kate Chopin, to Romeo and Juliet. For obvious reasons, this story is loved by many girls and is viewed as a depiction of true love.
Ms. Jacobs (the professor) then asked how many of us liked the idea of having someone die for us. Hands sprang into the air. She noticed me and two guys in the room hadn’t raised our hands. So then, she asked why the majority had raised their hands. Then she asked why the three of us hadn’t raised ours. I refrained from answering because, hey, I did not want to weigh in my thoughts and kill everyone’s buzz.
The discussion went on a little it more then she came back to me, to ask why I didn’t believe such a love existed.
Me: I do believe in true love. I am a ridiculous lover of love. But I don’t equate one’s love to one’s willingness to die for the one he loves. Jesus aside.
Ms. Jacobs: Care to elaborate on that?
Me: Well, firstly, if I
requirefeel a man needs to sacrifice his life to prove his love for me, then that serves as an indication that I don’t deserve his love. My inability to “see” his love for me doesn’t mean he doesn’t love.
Ms. Jacobs: Okay. Say, he takes a bullet for you. What about that kind of death for love?
Me: Then that is completely different ball game. I mean, assuming I love him too. Mourning would be the hardest thing. I would most probably feel burdened by merely breathing. The thought that he could have been alive instead of me would weigh down on my soul. I would hate waking up because that would be just another day of me and no him. I would hate that! I would miss him. And even with time, I’d probably be unable to move on because it would feel like I am giving us up, and allowing another to replace him, when all he did was love me deep enough to not want to lose me. How do I deal with that? How do you live with that? I’ve always wondered how Rose felt, losing Jack and surviving the Titanic alone and live to tell the tale.
A few moments of silence, her sigh broke the silence and she spoke.
Ms. Jacobs: How old are you, again?
Me: 24 years.
Ms. Jacobs: What’s your major?
Ms. Jacobs: An analyst by nature and soon, by profession. Interesting. So you do believe in love?
Me: Yes, very much so.
Ms. Jacobs: And you also believe in logic?
Me: Yes Ma’am, I do.
Ms. Jacobs: Well, many have argued that love and logic do not coexist.
Me: Do you believe in someone loving you enough to die for you?
Ms. Jacobs: I am a married woman. 16 years. I love my husband but I do not think he would die for me!
Me: Would you die for him?
Ms. Jacobs: I … I want to say yes. But to be honest, I really don’t know. Is that a tragedy?
Me: Not at all, Ma’am. Not at all.
We had a moment of eye contact, then she regained her senses and channeled the discussion away from Romeo and Juliet. I had to slip away before the discussion ended. I had a life to resume. But it was nice. The atmosphere, the contributions. Into the minds of youth. Spectacular!