“He came. He left. Nothing else had changed. I had not changed. The world hadn’t changed. Yet nothing would be the same. All that remains is dreammaking and strange remembrance.” -Andre Aciman
We have been told that “it is better to have love than to have lost.” But in the case of Oliver and Elio, and in the case of a former lover I had myself, I strongly disagree. In both cases, both belonged to each other and yet did not at the same time. They longed for the day that they could be together until one of them realizes that it is impossible. And one moves on, and one does not. Elio never does. I never did either.
I met him after I graduated college. We both ended up back in our hometown and, for lack of decent work in our fields, we took a job at a call center selling health insurance to senior citizens. He was dangerous. He drank to get drunk every night. He did drugs. He slept with anything that came his way. I loved him because deep down I knew he was just a sad boy who needed love. I knew I could give that to him. One night the two of us went to a house party and get incredibly intoxicated. Not being able to drive home, the owner of the home showed us to a mattress on the floor in a dingy room. Nothing was said at first. We stared at each other speaking volumes. “I can fix you,” I was saying. “I don’t want you to” was the reply in his eyes. ultimately, we made love that night. I awoke knowing that it was over. I was another notch on his belt and to be thrown to the side.
To my surprise, I wasn’t. He was so complicated. At times I felt like we were together. And that he loved me just as much as I loved him. I introduced him to my parents. He would call me and not his friend when he was drunk and needed a ride home from the bar. One night, he said “Can I go to your house instead?” I let him. After a few kisses I began to cry. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he held my head. “I know you will never be mine.” I replied. The next morning he told me he couldn’t see me anymore. That night I was admitted into the hospital for suicide ideation. I would have rather been dead than to not be loved by him. He was toxic. But he was mine, nonetheless. After I got out of the hospital I asked to see him. He told me no. I begged. I cried. I told him he did this to me. I made him feel guilty. When I saw him nothing was the same. The tender look in his eye was gone. When he said my name I didn’t feel my knees lock. He told me that I was emotionally unstable and psychotic. That everything all I thought was happening was in my head. He told me that he could never have felt feelings for me the way I did to him. He told me to get lost.
So I did. I packed up my belongings and I moved to Buffalo, NY and I volunteered with AmeriCorps. I took time to figure who I am. Was I the type of person to be so invested into someone like that that I was willing to kill myself if I couldn’t have the love that I thought I wanted? Absolutely not. Would I have had that mental breakdown, would I have harmed myself if I just took the first no I was given by him?
My heart aches for Elio. To get a taste of the life you wanted with the love of your life and then to never have that again. To lay in bed at night squinting your eyes shut to try to remember what it was like to feel their arms wrapped around you. How he held you while you slept, how he comforted you while you cried, how he made love to you. They would all be faint memories. Soon forgotten. You will try everything in your power to hold onto them but by the white of you knuckles they will slip away. You will meet someone new, they will replace the phantom hold you felt every night. But when the time comes to take your last breath, will those memories resurface, for one last hold of your head while you cry and beg for just a little more time?
Last November I ran into my lover at a bar while I was on my usual pre-thanksgiving bar crawl with my high school friends. We hugged and acted like old pals. He introduced me to his fiance. He told me he was good. The tenderness in his eye that I longed to see for so long told me he wasn’t. I lied and said I was good as well. He had moved on, whether he wanted to or not, he did. Oliver did. He married, he had kids, he did what he was supposed to. Elio was left waiting and wondering if Oliver would ever come back for him. I, too, had that question. But Elio and I both know the answer to that, whether we would like to face that reality or not, is a different question.
After reading the book, I decided to watch the movie. Take my advice, and the advice from this Mashable article and watch the movie before you read the book.
I had a hard time enjoying the movie becuase I feel so deeply in love with the characters in the book and they just are not the same as in the movie. Parts of the book that I found important (the precum, the different colored swimming trunks) were overlooked.
I was extremely disappointed in the peach scene. When Elio cries in the movie he says he does not want him to go, but in the book he cries because it is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him/to him. It is an intimate scene where two lovers share their bodies with one another without actually having intercourse and it’s a throwaway scene in the movie, to be honest. I also found it hard and often questioned myself if Elio actually like Oliver. In the book Aichman does a phenomenal job painting a romantic picture of the way Elio lusts after Oliver, and in the movie, well, you thought Elio couldn’t wait to get rid of Oliver.
After the first night they finally have sex, Elio has a hard time coming to terms with it. He feels disgusted and doesn’t know if that’s what he wanted. The table turns and it seems as if Oliver is lusting after Elio, until the two of them realize how much the genuinely love each other. In the movie, after their first night, it seems as if in some cinematic magical way the two are madly in love and that’s it.
Their trip to Rome was summarized poorly in a 4 minute scene and the ultimate final goodbye the two have years later is not in the movie. The actors did a phenomenal job showing the forbidden love that was so pure and genuine, but it misses the mark when compared to the book.
I wanted more. I kind of expected more. I’m kind of sad I read the book first and then watched the movie. I’m kind of sad I watched the movie at all. One final note on the movie, if you’re a gay guy with body image issues you are going to be envious of their bodies and want to work out immediately after you’re done watching the movie. Friendly reminder not everyone looks like that.
I’ve decided to read Everything is Awful: And Other Observations by internet sensation Matt Bellassi next because I need some humor and lightness in my life. I don’t know how exactly that will translate into a blog post, but I’m sure I’ll think of something to write about. Or I’ll just use that time to complain about things like Matt does!
The Basic Bibliophile 