Dear Wary!

Dear Wary,

You've touched upon the nature of artistic temperaments and egos run amok directly and indirectly a number of times. I have a question generally tied in with that tender subject, but I'm wondering more particularly about it as it pertains to relationships. To be succinct, before I really get into it, should being made to feel special by your partner be a relationship requirement?

You see, I'm with a man who is in many respects wonderful. He's bright, ambitious and successful. He's been kind and trustworthy. We share interests. His laugh makes me happy. However, at times, he just doesn't make me feel special. In fact, he makes me feel very ordinary. While one can shrug off the sting of the indifference of the world at large, it hurts to be made to feel ordinary by your partner, by the person who has supposedly chosen you as the one he wants to be with ahead of all others. I don't think it's deliberate on his part: It's not aggressive, he doesn't ignore my calls or deny me affection, and on the rare occasion when he's angry or slightly unkind, he doesn't demonstrate subtle or insidious cruelty.

Is it wrong of me to feel entitled to feeling special around people who are special to me? Not that I think I should be told I'm remarkable all the time, but I'm just wanting that kind of quiet, steady glow of esteem that certain people can sometimes give you.

I'm worried that I'm simply a narcissist and should be grateful for having found this wonderful man. It's complicated by the fact that I've always been told I'm pretty remarkable in most facets of my life by most people. The occasional stranger stops me in the streets to tell me I'm beautiful. I've been very successful both academically and in an esoteric and competitive field. Frankly, he's the only man I've ever been with who hasn't fawned over me a little bit from time to time. I miss that! It keeps the energy in a relationship up, and I always return the sentiments in kind.

I don't think I'm just an emotional sponge, but I'm also at the beginning of those generations who grew up being told how wonderful they were and who had their self-esteem nurtured at every turn. Perhaps my capacity for enduring relationships has been stifled by self-absorption and instead of looking for real love I'm just looking for the emotional equivalent of a skinny mirror.

So, what do you think? I love this man; he says and acts as if he loves me but I'm afraid something vital is missing; I just don't know if I should pursue a lifetime of feeling ordinary. Even worse, what if my presentiment is accurate and I'm really not all that special to him? If so, it's unfair to make him conjure up something that is not there. That's actually a number of questions, but please answer! I'm at a loss and don't want to prejudice anyone in my life against him in case we do go for the lifetime commitment; the time is at hand for those decisions.

Ordinary or Special?

Dear Special,

Yes, Honey, I know you're a real special person. A lot of people might say that you've got too many free hours in the day to brood about meaningless shit or that you're just one needy high maintenance shrew but that's not it at all. The truth is that you're most sweetest, most loveable gal in the whole wide world and this fella of yours just isn't getting it.

So what do you do? Well, remember all those Shirley Temple movies which kept us going through the war years? You can't just sit there like a rock and hope Mister Wonderful realizes how magical you are. No, you've got to put on those tap shoes, paste on that happy smile and then get up and dance and sing! Any time of the day, whenever you're feeling blue, wherever you are, the melodies of Broadway will make those pesky old blues go away!

Turn your life into one unending musical and believe me, like night and day, happiness will follow.

And if that doesn't work with the cold, heartless bastard, well, I'm not suggesting anything rash but does the name Lorena Bobbit ring a bell?

Dear Wary!

Dear Wary,

I want to be a musician but I am afraid that I don't have it in me. I want to play an instrument and sing and create music and perform it. I don't really care about fame. I want to admire myself for being a more realized person, and I want to enjoy the company of artists, and until I am one I would be nothing but a fake, or worse yet, labeled a groupie. I am plagued with the existential anxiety that my life has been pointless thus far, and I see music as a way to create meaning and connection with my own humanity.

But when I listen to interviews with musicians, or hear their music, I am struck with the sense that they were born for it, that creating music runs in their veins, and that it's a way of life for them as much as eating or sleeping. Can someone become an artist after many, many years of not being musical, indeed after a life spent idling in conformity? Is a love for it and a dedication to working toward being musical every day really enough? Could someone like me really join the ranks of artists?

I Dream of My Ideal Self, in Vancouver

Dear Ideal Self,

Truthfully, I think you're setting your sights a little low here.

While creating music might "run in the veins" of some of the weak-willed milquetoast American musicians you might sometimes run across, let's face it. You're Canadian, heir to a savage race that conquered an entire continent. One which swept like a Mongolian horde across plains, mighty rivers and even mightier mountains, killing and burning and raping everything in its path. Do you think it's for you to worry your manliness about learning to play some flimsy guitar (much in the way the women fumble with the lutes in the tents)?

No.

Like Russell Crowe himself said in Gladiator, it is time to grab your destiny. By this time next year, I want you to be up in the North Woods, hunting grizzlies clad only in a loincloth and strangling them with your bare hands (and playing the guitar at the same time, if that is Your wish.)