When you know things are too good to be true, once your suspicion is proven right you’re as much disappointed as you are relieved to find out you were right in the first place, and also intrigued to know just how.
This case is most common in the early days of a really great relationship. Following several dates you’ll be convinced that this person is so good looking and witty and charming that there may well be nothing at all wrong with them. A few dates later, and you’re actually thinking this might be it. Game over. Monday morning - ring shopping. Yet before you make it to Tiffany’s or Cash Converters or whatever your fancy, comes the moment that sows the seeds of suspicion which soon sprout into branches of doubt.
It can start with one seemingly little thing, which is only magnified by the weeks or months of suspicion that you’ve harboured. Nevertheless, that bad clothing choice or Dad joke or racist remark your partner makes can prove to be the start of something - something which sets in motion the demise of the greatest relationship ever, simply because it opened your eyes to all that was existent the whole time you were wearing rose-coloured glasses.
And so how does this relate to Feast of Love you ask?
When describing Radha to Mr. and Mrs. Driving Miss Daisy, Greg Kinnear agrees on how great looking his wife-to-be is. So much so, that he utters the phrase: “heck knows what she sees me”.
This my friends, the whole “heck” thing, would be a deal-breaker for me. Or it would at least set into motion my doubts about someone who I initially thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. For you see, it can be something as potentially Tom Petty as this, but you’ll soon find out, and be relieved to do so, that it’s just the tip of an iceberg that you’ll never want to see again.
This week two very lovely people in my life are heading off to New York for a month - to celebrate their honeymoon.
If 6 months ago I suggested that this would be the case, each response would’ve been more “I wish” than “I know”. Yet in the words of the great Janet Jackson, that’s the way love goes.
I’m not wrong in saying that each party acknowledges the whirlwind nature of this romance. Though so too, they’d also be well aware that it’s as much of a whirlwind romance as it is one that many are envious of. Their week has involved incredible parties, a lovely wedding and a month-long trip to New York - all because of one thing:
In Feast of Love, Greg Kinnear laments his bad run of romance on account of his habit of not looking before he leaps. Life is a gamble - so we all recognise that every time we do leap into a new commitment of any kind, the 50/50 chance of it working out and not working out, is very real. Though far too many of us think about tomorrow more than we do about today, and thus will rarely go with a gut feeling only because of how it may or may not work out tomorrow. A life led on feeling alone is a life lived in the present. My two very good friends are doing just that, and as a result, have just experienced what I can assure you was a pretty impressive bucks/hens night, but so too, are happily married and headed overseas for a month.
So to those who second guess everything I ask - are you heading to New York this week?
Undoubtedly THE biggest flaw of Feast of Love is the discontinuation of Jenny and Catherine’s relationship.
I’m fully aware of how at times I’m prone to hate on Feast of Love - just like anything you’d have to do every day. Yet it occurred to me today that I’d have much less beef with this project if the moments of hot lesbian interactions extended (no pun intended) much further than the initial minutes of the film.
I guess these are the chances we take when subconsciously choosing a movie we’ll watch every day for a year because we’re a fucking idiot.
It’s so clear now that “Roadhouse” would have been an excellent choice.
With or without a doubt, it’s far better to find out than to never know.
Just last week I was out to dinner with a very, very good friend of mine. So after copious amounts of food plates and glasses of wine she spots a waitress who, to my ignorance, had been glancing at our table for the majority of the night. As a straight male I personally didn’t want to “hit it”, though my good friend, being the cute-as-fuck lesbian that she is, did, and so began project “give hot and potentially lesbian waitress your number”. Once the bill was squared and the last remnants of our wine consumed, all that was left to do was attract said faux-lesbian waitress and hand over my friend’s cute-as-shit note, and then vamoose. This, my friends, proved harder than expected. Though in the end, after some considerate manoeuvring and perception, we managed to exit the establishment while oh-so-conveniently bumping into this tall leggy blonde on our way out. One quick little word, exchange and card handover later, we hightailed it out there as a one man and one very buzzed lesbian.
And that’s when it was confirmed.
In this very situation that my friend was in, it is undeniably worse to puss-out and go home never knowing what might have been, than to put your cards on the table and find out for sure.
In Feast of Love, Jenny makes a move on Selma Blair (a married woman no less) which is a perfect example of what I’ve just been through. For Jenny, she acknowledges that the woman she has the hots for is in a relationship with a man, yet is still unhappy. With all this in play, Jenny still works up the courage to pursue Selma and, at the end of the day, know for sure what’s possible.
You’ll never ever realise just how bad something can be, until you’re in it yourself.
And right on cue, the little guy proves my point.
For this whole week I’m taking care of one of the cutest, noisiest and inquisitive French bulldogs going round. I’ve never been the owner of a pet, as in, yes I’ve had a cat and a dog and a fish and a budgie when I was young but I myself have never been an independent pet owner per say. And before you, or the owners of said French bulldog begin to raise concern about my capabilities as guardian of this here pup, let it be known that I’ve had extensive experience helping out folks and looking after their furry companions, all of whom have not died and have gone on to live very happy pet lives for their expected period of time.
But my point is: only now am I truly realising how greatly a pet can come between the relationship of two very happy people.
In no way am I referring to the owners of this fine animal I’m currently taking care of. Yet since doing so AND watching this fucking movie every day, it’s become blaringly obvious to me just how easy it’d be for the demands of one pet to adversely affect a relationship which pre-pet, was perfectly stable and flourishing. Which is kind of exactly what happens in Feast of Love.
Once Kinnear introduces a dog into his relationship with Selma Blair, shit gets real. And while it could be argued that he and Blair weren’t standing on much before this, in the end, the introduction of said animal becomes the straw that broke the camel’s back. Or the dog for that matter.
In the end, since being the sole carer of this hilarious product of an animal, it’s become obvious that these things are hard work. No matter how strong a relationship, if you can survive a puppy, you can survive almost anything.
Every time you experience some bullshit, it’s comforting to know you can always come home to something.
Sunday night, for what could easily be the 20th time, I watched High Fidelity. I’ve been around a while and so during this time, this little gem of “Men Rule!” filmmaking has become somewhat of a haven for me - my “break-up film”, if you will. I can almost guarantee that after each of my break-ups I’ve at some point had a few too many reds and sat down to watch John Cusack go back through the many women he’s experienced failed relationships with to find out, once and for all, where he’s going wrong. And so, the other night, I did just that.
And I couldn’t help but think, “I wonder if Feast of Love is someone’s break-up film?”
Is there someone among the 6,973,738,433 people of planet Earth who will always go back to Feast of Love in order to once again feel optimistic about love and life?
Further proof that (most) men don’t need much in order to get the juices flowing.
It’s a shame that we never hear about Chloe’s background. And what’s an even bigger shame is that Oscar sees no need in seeking such. On the very night of their first meeting (you know, the night were Chloe goes back to Oscar’s house and sleeps with him and the theme of her never wearing a bra is set in motion) Chloe is very inquisitive about this new man. And rightfully so. As a result, we learn of Oscar’s Mum who left home when he was young and all about his abusive, alcoholic father and then his own drug-ridden past and subsequent road-to-sobriety. So by this time, not only is Chloe just gagging for it, but we, and Chloe obviously, know about as much of Oscar’s “heavy stuff” as one would need. They make out, yada, yada, yada, Chloe stays over, and they begin a wonderful relationship that leads to them buying a house and Oscar dying of a heart attack… all without ever getting to know who the real Chloe is.
Men, as a rule, will generally go for just about anything with great legs, nice teeth and a head of hair. A woman can walk into a room and we’re already aroused. While this is very comforting for women, it takes away any real need for men to be aroused in any other ways, which are arguably the better ways. For men, it’s one thing to be sitting across from a woman and think, “fuck this girl is so cute I just wanna lay one one her”. Yet, it’s a whole ‘nother thing to sit across from a woman and think, ”fuck this girl is so cute AND what she ‘s saying and how she’s saying it is so attractive that I wanna lay one on her even more than I normally would!”.
This, for mankind, is one of life’s great moments. Though unfortunetly for Oscar, he’s unable to appreciate the beauty of such an event because “chatty Cathy Chloe” won’t let him get a word in before summing him up in under 5 minutes and jumping his bones.
Life fact: Talking to a girl can be just as arousing as looking at a girl.
I’m sitting here watching Feast of Love and, perhaps inspired by last night’s blog, all I can think about is how I have no idea what to make for dinner.
I would like a really good salad. Yet, I lack any great experience eating salads let alone making my own, so I’ll feel like a real amateur if I attempt one. Say I were a man of many salads, I’d know instantly what flavours and ingredient combos work and which don’t, and the whole process of creating this meal would be far more promising than intimidating. Yet, here I stand with no history of making a great salad, much like someone who has never experienced a serious relationship. Creating a great salad and creating a great relationship pretty much rely on the same thing:
It’s long been my theory that after each failed relationship you actually get better at being in one. Each time you separate from someone, you can’t help but add new things to the ever-growing list of what works and what doesn’t. You’re not only able to narrow down the qualities in a partner which you just can’t compromise on, but also learn more about how some of your own qualities could use some work, if you’re ever going to make a great, long-lasting relationship.
And so here marks a turning point for Greg Kinnear and I. I’ve long been critical of Greg’s many failed relationship’s and the immediacy with which he’ll jump from one serious relationship to the next. Yet now it’s occurred to me that yes, while his actions seem hasty and ill-informed, his heart is in the right place.
Because at the end of the day, brother’s just trynna make a great salad, yeah?
If you’re heart’s not in it, chances are it never will.
It’s 7:30pm on a Friday night. Following one too many after-work drinks, you’re en route to a night on the couch with some dinner, a few DVD’s, and some “me” time. The most anticipated of these is dinner, where you’re pretty freaking excited to get in the kitchen and git kreative. Though with a stomach containing nothing more than those post-work wines and a patience wearing thin, you find yourself overcome with the myriad of options of exactly what to make for dinner. Homemade pizza? Stir-fry? Some wicked pasta thing? After too long and only in the interest of getting the hell out of the supermarket, you rally up the ingredients required for your creative stir-fry. Both because you enjoy stir-fries and also because you already have most of the ingredients in your basket anyway. At the checkout, on the way home and even as you put oil in the pan you’re in two minds about the decision you made. Then, just as you cue the DVD and take the phone off the hook and have the first forkful of delicious stir-fry in your hand, you decide that yes, you should’ve made a pizza.
When it comes to food or work or love, if you’re any less than 100% sure of your situation from day one, then you’ll never be. Don’t be like Greg Kinnear and force a relationship with Radha Mitchell that deep down you know isn’t what you want/need or will work. Be honest with yourself, and it won’t be hard for you to be so with others.
Sometimes in life all you actually really need, is to be assured that you’re doing okay.
Anyone who knows me, well anyone who knows me in real life at least, is aware that I’ve been through a pretty effed up few months. Add to this the fact that I’ve still had to watch this freaking movie everyday and yeah, you could say it’s been a pretty heavy year so far. That’s why upon hearing of my parents visit from the Sunshine State to sunny Melbourne, I eagerly awaited a few days of “emotional R&R”, wherein I could reap the pearls of wisdom only those who’ve been around the block a few times can provide. Said weekend just passed us, and I can confirm I feel more emotionally stable than I did this same time last week, which some would argue is still not enough but they’re jerks who can GTFO. What’s interesting though is that in the most wonderful case of quality over quantity, this spike in my emotional state was caused not by a whole weekend of family time, but by a moment within it.
At the pointy end of a weekend filled with brunches, lunches, dinners and drinks, my parents and I enjoyed one last dinner together prior to their departure. Following a week of deep and meaningful conversations and love and support, in mere seconds my Mother, the most amazing woman in the country, fixed me. As we said our goodbyes, my Mum insisted that I was “doing really well”, and just like that, made everything good again.
In this modern age, we’re too convinced that it takes a great deal of effort, time and/or money to make someone we love feel better. When in fact, the key is to keep it short and sweet, though when it comes to doing so, my feeling is that too many of us unfortunately focus on the former, more than the latter.
When offering advice to those so desperately seeking it, you not only run the risk of coming across too blunt, but also having it be misinterpreted.
In “Feast of Love”, Chloe seeks the advice of a fortune teller who’s advice for her just may be a prime example of this. In this scene, said batshit crazy fortune teller attempts to put Chloe’s mind at ease in regards to her future and that of Oscar, Chloe’s overnight soulmate. The fortune teller assures Chloe that, ”people can keep other people alive”, leading her to believe that love is so great, it has the power to heal even the most heinous plagues and diseases of the 21st Century. Therefore, Chloe goes away confident in the fact that no matter what happens to Oscar in the future, as long as she loves and cares and supports him, he’ll live a long and healthy life. Minutes later in film-time, Oscar suffers a heart attack witnessed by an understandably horrified Chloe, who surely can’t work out how the treatment prescribed to her by an unlicensed woman who’s office doubles as her lounge room, could have possibly gone wrong.
Did Chloe at any point stop to re-consider the advice given to her by the fortune teller? And that, perhaps, by “people” she meant, a doctor?!
Sure, you’re free to seek it and take it, though you better make damn sure you understand the advice you’re given.