/lit/ - Literature

>>20427562

> When's the funeral?
> Do you want me to come?

The woman in the song understands she has disappointed her ex-lover, but her life experiences have taught her that the pain of someone (even an ex-lover) is inconsequential, an annoyance even. "So when's the funeral, do you want me to go?" A life blessed with infinite attention from the opposite gender, all of whom tell you that you are special and even divine have allowed the woman in the story to so easily dismiss a lover's pain. What is an hurt "ex-lover" in the grand scheme of things?

What even is love, from a woman's point of view, for that matter?

Love is a fun experience, like goin sky diving, or going to a really good party or a concert. It requires no sacrifice. It elicits no self-reflection (as it did not exist in the first place). It means nothing after it is "dead". More love will come, more fun experiences will materialize, more interesting men will appear to amuse the protagonist of the song. The pain of her ex-lover is a temporary annoyance she must get through in order to move forward onto the next, fun life adventure.

>I'm not what you're looking for
>My house has an open door
>You need a lock and key

When I heard this line, I thought about my own irrationalities when it comes to love. No woman will act with humility, rationality, or wisdom as men understand these concepts. I require a woman to have these higher qualities (lock and key) when most women are what they are (open door). As long as I expect these things from women, I will be alone.

>I love all of your ideas
>You love the idea of me

The woman loves "all" of her ex-lover's "ideas". In other words, she loves all that her ex-lover is. His decision making, his thoughts his charisma, his confidence. She loves him for the man he has built himself into. As most men know, one is not born competent, wise, wealthy, confident, charismatic. These things require a high degree of sacrifice and dedication to obtain and master.

The ex-lover, on the other hand is delusional with the object of his affection. The woman he loves is beautiful to his eyes, but there is not much beyond the beauty. No rigor in her thoughts or character. No acquired insight or self-awareness. No humility, or wisdom. Instead the woman he loves is just another woman. Unaware, childish, beautiful, and silly in funny, tragic ways.