Wunderluster

Nothing says Christmastime more than watching 2004’s Relationship Mindfuck “Closer” starring Julia Roberts and Natalie Portman as whores and Jude Law and Clive Owen as douchebags.

Now, you may be thinking “Closer” is a bit odd of a choice for Holiday Season viewing and you’d be pretty right. But me, Monica and our roommate Hutch went down to Blockbuster on Christmas Eve and this is what our cross-cultural compromise bore. For those of you that don’t know, “Closer” is a movie about a “love square” that involves four depraved individuals who essentially fuck each other and then fuck each other over.

(Editors Note: the word “fuck” has been used three tim….make that four times thus far in this post. Plus I’ve used the word “depraved.” This is called lyrical foreshadowing. I think.)

I’m no Roger Ebert. Hell, I’m not really even a Stephanie Sears. So, I won’t be able to give a great synopsis and review of this movie other than it delves deeply into the gross, grimy make-up of relationship sex, dissatisfaction and dissatisfied relationship sex. 

HOWEVER, I will make a relevant connection here. This is the second time I’ve seen this movie.

Come with me then, as we take the Wunderluster Time Machine back to March of 2006!

My college roommate rented “Closer” and we had a watch of it on what had to have been a Friday night. Yep, dramas on a Friday night with my heterosexual male roommate. College was wild.  

ANYWAY, as the plot thickened and the relationships within this movie dissolved I sank deep within my hoodie. I watched Clive Owen interrogate his wife Julie Roberts about her on going tryst with the Jude Law. He was curious about sexual details of the affair going so far as to ask what Mr. Law’s cum tasted like. To which she replied, “like yours, but sweeter.”

Sulk.

Owen had cut so deeply into himself with that question, yet he found satisfaction in that lurid, complex-building revelation.

He calmly responded, “Thanks. Thank you for the honestly. Now fuck off and die.”

Now, those of you who know the Wunderluster, knew that he was in Month 18 of a 34-month breakup with a longtime flame. (Yes, those are real numbers). And while neither the Wunderluster nor Ms. X (as she will be called from now on) was depraved or a cheater, they had been through epic, soul-crushing fights of similar, withering intensity.

The Wunderluster was in therapy the following week after seeing “Closer.” No joke.

******Warning, switching from third person to first person********

Of course, I didn’t go into therapy just because I saw most of Natalie Portman’s ass. It was a lot of things, mostly having to do with Ms. X and my father. (But nobody wants to hear you bitch about your ex-girlfriend on your blog. It’s a bit weenie. It’s a bit cliché. Only clichéd weenies do that sort of thing. So, I’ll stick to the topical and timely format this space affords me.)

Twenty-one months have passed since I first saw “Closer.” So I’m wondering: how much have I changed?

I’m still totally incomplete without the youthful love I once had. But I’m far more insecure. I’m far more self-loathing. I’ve cried once. I had my first migraine. I had my first ill-advised hookup. I chased a girl I shouldn’t have. I delivered laundry for a living. I’ve gained a little weight. I have more grey hairs. I found The Smiths. But truly, that’s not so bad.

I graduated from college. I moved to California. I chased a girl I shouldn’t have. I met my Bert (Monica). I made small-town friends. I lived in the mountains. I drove across the USA. I had my first ill-advised hookup. I drank wine that tasted like bananas and flowers and shit. I found The Smiths. I moved halfway around the Earth, just for fun. I’m remembered.

I guess what I’m trying to say is the lows I’ve experienced have been devastating and trying but the sadness they’ve triggered has given my life immense texture and depth. The pain and failure derived from things not working out with Ms. X has made my resolve to be a better lover and partner in the future not just matter of hope, but a requirement of my destiny.

And that’s what was missing from “Closer.” It doesn’t track the ascent after the fall. Loss is neither the Alpha nor the Omega in that story or mine. It’s just a chapter. A scene. It’s not the whole damn movie. It’s not the whole damn book.

This is my attempt at channeling Hope to everyone reading during Hope’s most powerful calendar appearance. You should know I think about you all regularly and pray for your continued good fortune.

So, Merry Fucking Christmas.

(That’s six)