Last Friday I was invited to dinner by my girlfriend and her mother. It was her mother's birthday and I thought I'd seize the opportunity for an excuse to hang out with her. We got to a restaurant in Manhattan called Manolo's and even though everything seemed adequate her mother could not stop complaining about the tiniest things. She proceeded to continue the night criticizing every miniscule detail from "wierd" Venetian plaster that didn't let her "concentrate on her food" (we're at a restaurant...we don't need any more attention to the food than we already have...we came here to eat...i thought that was kind of the main focus) to improper utensils.
As she was giving her sermon on how the waiter's pants were a different color than they should've been, I realized I am like Oedipus in a sense. I knew the night was going to be like this. I knew I would have to endure hours of loud complaints and ignorant judgment passing. Maybe it was my subconscious death drive that made me accept her invitation that night? Just like Oedipus, I might've put myself in a situation where I wanted to suffer.
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