End of Magna
She might think. Well, she might think. Yes? She might think I’m not good enough for her, though not so much in those words. Those were the words my father used. “You’re not good enough for her,” he once said, though all the other times he said “She’s not good enough for you.” When I’d introduce them, my folks, to a new girl I’d been seeing, or would ask her over for dinner, ask them first after they’d asked me several times who’ve I been seeing lately? or “What’ve you been doing with your time lately?” or “Where do you rush off to at nights so quickly after dinner? How come you don’t hang around the house more?” I’d say I’ve been seeing a girl lately and they’d say “If she’s so special why don’t you bring her around for dinner one night?” or I’d say “I’ve been seeing someone lately, someone I really like, would you like to meet her?” and then I’d suggest bringing her over for dinner and if they said yes and they invariably did, I’d ask what night was best, or they’d say “Bring her Friday,” and I’d say to her “My folks invited you for dinner this Friday, I hope you can come,” and she invariably did, would ring the doorbell, I’d answer it even if I wasn’t the closest one to the door at the time, though most of the times I’d pick her up at her home or meet her someplace on the outside and bring her to our home, and sometime the next day, though a couple of times much later that night after I’d taken her back home and my folks or just my father was still up, he’d say “You want my opinion of that girl?” and I’d say “Sure if you want, what?” and he’d say “I don’t think she’s good enough for you,” and I’d say “I knew you’d say that,” But sometimes I’d say “Why do you say that?” because maybe I had some suspicion myself about how good enough she was for me, and he’d say “She isn’t bright enough.” Or “pretty enough.” Or “nice enough…lively enough,” or something enough and sometimes many things not good enough. Though once after I’d brought someone home for dinner and then taken her back to her place, my father said “You’re not good enough for her,” or rather “You know what I think about you and that girl?” and I said “What?” because I knew she’d made a good impression on them, more so perhaps than anyone I’d ever had over for dinner, and he said “I think you’re heading for big trouble with her,” and I said “How?” and he said “Because you’re just not good enough for her and she’s going to know that soon and drop you and you’re going to get very depressed over it, more so than you have with any young lady you’ve been attached to.” I said “No chance of that. She likes me, I like her, I’m good enough for her and she knows it, just as both she and I know she’s good enough for me,” and he said “You want to know why I don’t think you’re good enough for her, as good as you might be for just about every other young woman her age?” and I said “Why?” and he said “Because she’s too rich, too pretty, too smart, too refined, too educated, too imaginative, comes from too good a family, too everything, and no matter how much she might think she likes you now, and it’s clear to your mother and I she likes you a lot, people like her family and friends are going to convince her you’re not good enough for her and that she’s wasting her time when she could have any available guy she wants, and eventually she’s going to think less of you from what people say and drop you though do it with some sadness and sensitivity, and you’re going to get very upset and if you don’t watch it, make the biggest damn fool of yourself you’ve ever been.” I said “Number one I don’t believe it, and two, even if I did a little, which I don’t, I’d chance it because seeing her now is so worth it,” and he said “Don’t come around crying I didn’t warn you,” and a month later she dropped me as he’d said, sadly, sensitively, saying she knew how much this would hurt me but what way was a good way to say what she had to say? and I said “What’s wrong, aren’t I good enough for you?” and she said “It’s not that, it’s just that I don’t want to get so serious with a boy yet,” and I said “Oh bull, you just don’t think I’m good enough for you,” and she said “Okay, maybe in some ways that’s true, but there are also some other things,” but no matter what I said, some of it for me, some against, she’d had it with me and I felt sadder than I had with any girl who’d dropped me before and maybe with any girl or woman since. It took me a month or more, more, a couple of months or more of deep depression, wandering around lost, trying to expose myself to colds, that sort of thing, before I got over her enough to function as a normal human being again. Magna’s like that girl too. She’s too good for me. She’s too beautiful, too intelligent, too perceptive, too creative, too everything. She doesn’t come from wealth or earn much of a salary now, but that isn’t important to her as long as she works at what she enjoys, nor that I don’t earn much either. She’s going to find out soon enough that I’m a little more boring and cynical than she can take. That I’m really not as broadminded and kindhearted as she thought. She’s going to have enough of my silly jokes and ribbing after a while too. She’s going to see lots of things in me she won’t like pretty soon. She’s going to think “I’m seeing this guy too much and that’s not too wise a thing to do because he’s going to want to get married or tie me down some way and though I might like that very much with someone else in the near future, I don’t want that with him.” She’s going to think she can do better. She no doubt has done a lot better. I know she has. She’s talked about some of the men she’s known. Known seriously. Been lovers with. Was in love with when they were in love with her. I have to admit I don’t stack up much in comparison to several of these men. To some I do, to some I don’t, but to a few I really don’t. The latter were all extremely bright, well-liked, handsome, sociable, had jobs or professions where they were already very successful or were soon sure to be, and other good qualities but with none of the negative ones I have, or so it seemed to me by what she said about them. I’ve asked what went wrong with the best of these relationships. Was it sex? Was it family or money? What was it? She said that a couple of these men got scared of a continuing deep relationship and a couple she got scared of. One man was already married and she didn’t want to bust up anybody’s home. Another man wanted her to change her religious faith to his. Another wanted her to change her citizenship to his and move to his country, but she felt that would be a spiritual and creative death. One man died of a heart attack and another in a rock-climbing accident. One wanted to get married but didn’t want to have children. One couldn’t have children but wanted to adopt one or two, while she wanted to give birth to at least one and then maybe she’d adopt a second. I’d love to marry her and have a child, but she’s eventually going to see how wrong I am for her. On some intellectual topics we talk about, for instance, it’s obvious I don’t go far enough for her. She likes to socialize a lot more than I, and her friends are often much smarter than I too. No, it won’t work. I know it. Maybe she knows it by now also but doesn’t want to speak about it yet for any number of reasons. She might be trying to find the best way of telling me without hurting me so much. She’s like that. And I don’t want to get hurt again as I did with that girl twenty years ago and several women since. I can still get hurt that way. Being in love with someone so much, and that person leaves you — there’s no way I can’t get hurt. I’ll miss just about everything about her. Miss talking to her, walking with her, looking at her, making love with her, just being silent and doing nothing with her or nothing but reading beside her. Holding her hand or knee when we’re at a movie or stage show. Her head on my shoulder or chest or my thighs pressed against the back of her thighs when we’re dozing off at night. Going into a store. Sharing some food at a restaurant. Watching her dress. Coming up with the same opinion about someone or something. Differing with her too. Fighting it out and making up. Everything. Miss missing her too, when I was away for a day or so and knew when I got back I’d see her. But for some reason, a very good reason, the reason being it’s inevitable she’s going to leave me pretty soon so better now when I can take it better than later when I’ll be even more used to her and it’ll hurt much worse. So I’ll phone her, right now, and if she’s in, tell her what I’ve been thinking and that we should call it off now.