Louis C.K, I ❤ you…(Part 3)

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Whenever I’m doing something boring and mundane at work like data entry, I listen to music. On this particularly grey and wet Thursday, The Bee Gees seemed like the perfect choice. So I’m listening to “More Than A Woman” and it’s turned up full blast, while I’m working on a Legal Studies textbook, day dreaming about that scene from Saturday Night Fever, when I get an email from a work colleague sitting three rows from me…

Subject: Are you listening to the Bee Gees?

WHAT! Shut up! No I’m not! I could feel my cheeks burning and my already diminishing reserve of ‘cool-factor’ drop even lower. Then I spend about 10 minutes trying to justify and excuse the fact that my feet were ‘disco-dancing’ under my desk as this song filled my head with images of John Travolta back when he didn’t have hair plugs or worshipped the all powerful Xenu…praise…

Then it occurred to me that I didn’t care at all. No fucks were given! I love this song. I have always associated happiness with this song. I saw Saturday Night Fever when I was a kid (not on purpose! That movie was pretty risqué and I had responsible parents…I think I was just channel surfing) and I remember this scene so well…

I think I was 7 or 8 and I remember sitting on the floor, looking up at the TV and being in absolute awe. It was magic. I remember thinking at that age, “When I’m older, this is exactly what I’m going to do when I’m in love…this is what love must look like…” I was convinced that when I finally fall in love, it will be during a dance with the perfect guy, and the floor will be illuminated by disco neon stars. He would spin me around and my lavender, off-the-shoulder dress would flow all around me as he brushed a lose feathered 70’s strand of hair behind my ear…

Yeah, my idea of love was a cliche 70’s movie. Don’t even get me started on how I think Xanadu is a social commentary on drug abuse and it’s correlation to roller skating and excess use of decorative hair tassels…

20 years later, and I am now brutally aware that love does not look like THAT. Whatever THAT is. What I thought was two people swaying together on clouds and stars were in fact,  dancing on some fiberglass with the aid of a smoke machine. BAM. Reality.

The older I get, the less disappointed I am when I find out the truth about how things really are. Real life isn’t a Hollywood movie. I’m not Julia Roberts, and I’ve realised that I should probably stop waiting for Richard Gere…or Hugh Grant or any other leading man Julia Roberts had. John Cusack? I’m sure he was one…

I think I started watching Louie at the perfect time. I’ve had this show on my hard drive for 2 years and was never interested. I’m glad I didn’t watch it then, because I think I would not have connected with it back then as much as I do now.

The shows depiction of love seems so honest to me now. It’s awkward and cringe worthy. It’s humiliating and sometimes really depressing. Louis CK is in constant search of love (and sex, mostly sex, but deep down, he just wants to fall in love) and it’s both hilarious and awful to watch because it’s painfully real. Whether he’s being propositioned by a younger person who has a weird sexual attraction to the scent of older people (according to this nympho *warning! Link is not safe for work cos they’re doin’ it at the end!*, people over the age of 40 have a sexy, mature smell…hmmm…), or whether he is confessing his love to a friend, knowing that the only outcome to this is rejection…

This is my favourite scene out of all the great scenes from this show.

I love this scene so fucking much. It’s perfect. The words that come out of his mouth both broke AND filled my heart with good feelings and stuff! Joy maybe? I don’t think it was exactly joy, but it was something… Is it possible to feel those two emotions at once?

I dream of being this articulate and poetic during a situation similar to the scene above. Despite knowing full well that when I stop talking the answer will be a sad, but a definite quiet no.

I’ve been there. Oh man, have I been there…And the last time this happened to me all I could think during the whole ordeal was, “Keeeeeeeep talking! Just keep saying things, because once you stop, you have to face the truth that this is not going to end well and you will be sad! Just move your mouth…Oooh! Talk about how you already know what he’s going to say and that you guys are cool! It won’t be awkward! Yes do that! Oh, who are you kidding you idiot, of course things are going to be awkward…ok you should probably stop now…shit, he’s squinting at you…why is he squinting…craaaaap! Abort! Abort! I wonder if he will notice if I just start running home? Wait a minute, you don’t run, you stupid bitch! Ok, tomorrow you’re going to start jogging. I wonder where I put my runners…wait, concentrate on the thing that you’re doing now! FAAAAAAAARK! What did you do!? You had to open your big mouth! Ok, seriously shut up now…”

Yup. That’s what my internal monologue looks like during this whole mess. Meanwhile I am slurring my words and trying to retain what little dignity I have left as sweat drips down my forehead…true story.

Here is a spoiler for you…Pam and Louis never get together. Imagine if they did? It could have been a twisted version of Ross and Rachel, except Ross is a bald ginger and Rachel’s hair is not so freakishly perfect all the time.

Pam lets Louis down as easy as she can, but it’s still like, ouuuuuuch! And he takes it. I mean, what else could he do? He’s still in love with her though. I mean, he drives her to the airport in a later episode! I know how weird that sounds, but I feel like for me, that’s a really good indication that you are still totally into someone. You want your face to be the last thing they see before they leave…Yes? No? Well, that’s what I think anyway.

In a typical show, they would have hooked up, because that’s what the public was rooting for and what is generally, part of a TV show norm. But we all know that that’s not what usually happens in real life. In real life, someone goes home upset, eats and cries into a bucket of fried chicken, then takes the chicken to bed with her as she cries herself to sleep…while eating the soggy chicken…

The beauty of Louie is that it shows us the truth. And the truth is love, relationships and dating is ugly. Especially dating! It’s an ugly, UGLY ritual! It’s terrible and messy.

So why do we do it? Why do we put ourselves in situations where we might feel terrible in the end? Why do we tell people how we really feel in the hope that maybe there might be something there, hidden, just waiting to happen?

It’s because of that exactly! What I just said! That little something hidden, just waiting to happen! It’s that hope that all that trauma and scars you have accumulated through the years were not in vain. Louie taught me that real love is about trying. It’s about the stupid and idiotic tenacity of a person despite every cell in their body telling them to give up. Knowing that the conclusion will probably be shithouse, but still taking the risk because maybe something weird and nice will happen.

So yeah, I guess I’ll keep trying. And I think whatever happens, I always will. I’m annoyingly hopeful like that. But I think that’s actually a good thing to be. Annoyingly hopeful, but still realistic.

I’m certain it won’t end in a beautiful dance scene on a star-lit floor…but I don’t know…maybe I don’t need to dance on neon stars and clouds…maybe all I need is someone who will drive me to the airport, knowing that their face will be the last thing I see…

Margie

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