I’m listening to a compilation tape (in this age of recordable cds, mp3s and sophisticated digital jukeboxes, does anyone else still make compilation tapes?) that I made after my last serious attempt at flirting (with the view of getting to the next stage) in recent years. It ended in disaster as usual. My faith in Mr. Right, combined with the “If I can’t have Mr. Right I don’t want anyone” attitude, is normally enough to keep me out of emotional tangles, but every now and again (from what, for the sake of the argument, I’ll call acute loneliness) I end up in a state of mind that goes something like this: “Well, there’s no reason not to like this guy, really, so if I tell myself often enough that I’m really interested, maybe I’ll believe it…” In Norway we have the saying “Du juger så du tror det sjøl” (“You lie so well that you’ve convinced yourself” – or thereabouts), and that’s exactly what I do.
It all goes swimmingly for anything from an hour to a few months, and then one day I wake up and think: “What the hell was I thinking?!” Occasionally I have by then been convincing enough to land myself in a situation where I have to explain as kindly as I can that “Oops, I did it again” (yes, I’m quoting Britney Spears – call it comic relief, if you like). You know the kind of stuff… “It’s not you, it’s me” (which is both true and incredibly false at the same time), “I’m just not ready for that sort of commitment” (with you, anyway), “I’m moving back to Norway in a month, so what’s the point?” (very useful, that, though it depends on the other person’s persistence – what would I do if he said he’d move too?), and so on.
I suspect a lot of people do this sort of thing, except some are better at ignoring the facts than others, and some, it seems, manage to get themselves married before they get around to facing them. Luckily, I’m not likely to do anything like that. However, the whole thing normally leaves me not liking myself very much for a while, because I’ve always, on some level, been aware of what I was doing (hindsight being 20/20 I can see that), and the fact that I’ve been fucking up my own emotions doesn’t really excuse fucking up someone else’s.
Anyhoo, this tape is quite definitely “under the influence”… A selection, with varying relevance:
Not the Doctor – Alanis Morisette
Any Man of Mine – Shania Twain
Here I go Again – Whitesnake
Så nære vi var – Lillebjørn Nilsen
Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad – Meatloaf
Bitch – Meredith Brooks
and A Woman’s Needs, with Elton John and Tammy Wynette, which is a song which goes well with any split personality moods I have in this context, I sing along happily to both voices (“A ring on my finger, Champagne on ice…” and “you know that I love you, but I love to be free…”).
And then there’s Kråka på taket, by Di Derre, which I might translate for you later, if I can be bothered.
Nice and cheery.
Music in the room: Just Older (Bon Jovi)