This blog's mere existence suggests that I am socially maladjusted, nor does my reviewing of books by controversial authors like Esther Vilar debunk that myth.
And now, having thus smoothly introduced this blogpost (that was not selfconscious or awkward at all!) here is my long overdue promised review of The Polygamous Sex by Esther Vilar.
Simply, it is not a very heartwarming book. Certainly not motivational. The tagline is "a man's right to the other woman." That hotly behind "The Polygamous Sex." Cover art? Man dragging multiple women behind him by their hair! What is Esther Vilar trying to do here?
Foolhardy me, I open the book nonetheless. The premise is that men predominantly marry dependents (less intelligent, younger, weaker women than themselves) and then seek sex partners (intellectual equals) outside the marriage. The problem is that the men are not consciously aware of the nature of the initial blunder, or their motivations in the subsequent blunder, therefore often the same error is repeated. The women play along because it works well enough for them; indeed modern society runs on and perpetuates this script.
For example you have probably heard a Nairobi slay queen say her man must be more intelligent than she is. This ensures a fatal intellectual mismatch for the relationship. After the initial novelty wears thin he will begin to run around behind her back in search of an intellectually fulfilling conversation. Cue cries of "Emotional Infidelity!" I am oversimplifying here.
It is an easy premise to dismiss at face value, but she presents it early, and spends the rest of the book exhibiting the truth of this in a comprehensive spectrum of varied relationships. And it is like reading all the minutiae of a train crash in slow motion. Simultaneously outrageous and oddly gra tifying.
Many are the times I turned from the book in disgust at myself only to remember that the book is not written against me specifically. It is that effective at opening up a man's mind to himself. Vilar has the mind of a man figured out and she is not sorry. The book tells you exactly why a man will seek additional lovers in a way that makes you commiserate with the poor man. He is just seeking an (one) intellectual equal, but he ends up amassing a herd of helpless, blonde damsels in distress who he can't love like he really wants to coz he's gotta play dad and they are too happy to play daughters (pardon my oversimplification of the case). At some point early in the book I said "whoa, looks like Vilar's got an incest fetish" but further reading revealed that suspicion to be my mind backfiring on itself.
Now the copy of the book that I read was ruined by bursts of parenthetical italicized commentary scattered at various points in the text by one KJ. Now clarifying Vilar's words, now objecting, now correcting her, now opining contrarily... Why didn't KJ do the right thing by avoiding the interruption of a very important literary work? Why didn't KJ write a separate dissenting blog post instead, to preserve the flow of ideas in the book? We will never know. I for one did not appreciate that ill-masked attempt to upstage Esther Vilar. I inwardly resent having to acknowledge said KJ here, that idle busybody.
And now in closing, consequences. The blasted book shed an unexpected light on my relationship. If it is to be believed, our love affair is doomed; it only seems like love because neither of us has finished idealizing the other, and our fatal flaw is our intellectually unequal partnership. The damned book made me realize it. I was sad about it for almost three days, seeing no way around it but immediate breakup. But other concerns overtook my mind and then I was okay for months, having forgotten, but now I am sad again because writing this infernal review has reminded me.
Let me call her.