I felt that my life with Albertine was on the one hand, when I was not jealous, nothing but boredom, and on the other hand, when I was jealous, nothing but pain. If there had been any happiness in it, it could not last. In the same spirit of wisdom which had inspired me at Balbec, on the evening when we had been happy together after Mme de Cambrember's visit, I wanted to leave her, because I knew that by carrying on I should gain nothing. Only, even now, I imagined that the memory that I retained of her would be like a sort of vibration prolonged by a pedal, of the last moment of our parting. Hence I was anxious to choose a moment of sweetness, so that it might be it that continued to vibrate in me. I must not be too particular, and wait too long. I must be sensible. And yet, having waited so long, it would be madness not to wait a few days longer, until an acceptable moment should offer itself, rather than risk seeing her depart with that same sense of revolt which I had felt in the past when Mamma left my bedside without bidding me good-night, or when she said good-bye to me at the station.
Marcel Proust, The Captive, pp. 400-401
I know I've made this point before, but it's so appropriate that Remembrance of Things Past opens with that famous scene of Marcel lying in bed waiting for his mother to, maybe, hopefully, break away from her social responsibilities to say goodnight to him - or maybe, hoping against hope, to curl up with him and hold him until he fell asleep. I know this seems terribly Freudian - although, keep in mind that Proust was writing at the height of Freud's power - but how much of this novel is really about Marcel's (Proust's) attempt to regain his mother's love, to fill that vacuum?
When I was younger, although, truthfully, still today, I had/have a theory of eating (I have lots of theories, each one more foolish than the last) which I call the Prime Bite Theory (which I think I actually borrowed from my college friend Illene Jaynes). Essentially, you should eat your meal in such a strategic way so that your last bite is the Prime Bite, that is, the most delicious bite. You don't want to eat a sandwich in such a fashion wherein the last bite is a bit of meatless bread crust. Partially, I think this is based on the notion that you never know when your last meal will occur, because, someday, it will be your last meal; and you don't want to spend the rest of eternity chewing on that meatless bit of crust. I guess it's also based on the notion that you'll always eat every bit of food on your plate (and since I was clearly the captain of the Clean Plate Club as a kid, because there are/wore starving kids in India) that's a very safe assumption with me. It's a brilliant theory, like so many of my generally ignored theories, but has some downside, mainly in that it means I tend to eat the same thing, my favorite dish, over and over, because you don't want to spend all of eternity tasting today's special. I mention this because this seems to be Marcel's theory in regards to relationships; he wants to end things with Albertine in the best way possible: "Only, even now, I imagined that the memory that I retained of her would be like a sort of vibration prolonged by a pedal, of the last moment of our parting. Hence I was anxious to choose a moment of sweetness, so that it might be it that continued to vibrate in me."
I can't believe that this hasn't been featured on a movie poster for a romantic comedy: "I felt that my life with Albertine was on the one hand, when I was not jealous, nothing but boredom, and on the other hand, when I was jealous, nothing but pain."
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