Does every loss of love finally become a case of ‘sour grapes’?

By David McElroy · June 3, 2021

For a very long time, I wondered how this would end. Would there be a dramatic climax? Or would love just slowly and quietly die from lack of tending?

It’s hard to even know what to call it anymore. It hasn’t been a relationship for a long time. It was a hope. Fondest dream. Futile faith in what a love might be? Fantasy, maybe?

Of all the things I imagined for seven years or so, I never imagined that it could end as sour grapes. But now that the hurt of lost love has faded into vague resentment instead, I can’t help but think, “I wouldn’t have wanted her anyway.”

I laugh bitterly at myself and wonder whether I tried to fool myself for years or if I’ve been trying to fool myself more recently. I’m not sure I would know when I’ve been most honest with myself — then or now — much less what was really best for all involved.

All I can do is point to Aesop’s fable called, “The Fox and the Grapes.” Do you remember the story?

If you’ve forgotten the story that you surely heard in childhood, here’s how it goes. The versions that we read as children were longer and had embellishments which weren’t in the original, but here’s a translation of the concise Latin version:

Driven by hunger, a fox tried to reach some grapes hanging high on the vine but was unable to, although he leaped with all his strength. As he went away, the fox remarked, ‘Oh, you aren’t even ripe yet! I don’t need any sour grapes.’ People who speak disparagingly of things that they cannot attain would do well to apply this story to themselves.

When I was driven by love for a woman who I couldn’t have, I wouldn’t have imagined being able to see her in this way.

In my mind, she was perfect. Or as perfect as a human could get. I ignored evidence to the contrary. I ignored the contradictions between her words and her actions. I made excuses for the things which hurt me. I had faith that she would ultimately prove herself to be the woman I believed her to be.

I saw what she could be. I saw what we could be. And I wanted that.

I’ve written before about the realization that the end of love is something like the breaking of a fever. Something can seem all-consuming and devastating, but one day the fever breaks and the fever is gone. You suddenly start to recover, even though you thought before that you never could.

I’ve felt my fever breaking for a long time, but I didn’t want to give up on what I believed. I was so sure. I even had her words saying she believed the same things. I couldn’t reconcile all of that faith with the evidence in front of me.

I slowly admitted to myself all the things I hadn’t wanted to admit. I gradually realized all the clues that had been there which I hadn’t wanted to see. And then there was one time when I finally consciously allowed the thought in my mind.

“If she’s really who she appears to be now, I wouldn’t have wanted her anyway.”

And that’s when I laugh at myself. Am I like the fox who was incapable of gaining the grapes which he badly wanted and needed? I don’t know.

I do know that I can’t speak disparagingly of her. She was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known. (It’s been years since I’ve even seen a photo, so who knows what she looks like now?) She was bright and funny and talented and driven. She had a good heart.

I would have done anything for her. I would have given her anything she wanted, even if it was unfair or unreasonable. There was no price in life that I wouldn’t have paid to have her.

I didn’t just imagine all the good things I saw in her. They were real. I simply couldn’t imagine she was capable of what she did. And now I look back on ways she acted and wonder if she was even capable of the love she promised. Was she always destined to love me and ask me to hope — to say, “Don’t give up on me” — and then to disappear?

I’m also wondering if all lost love ends in some version of the sour grapes story. When we fall in love, do we either get what we want or eventually convince ourselves that we didn’t want that person anyway? I don’t know the answer to that.

I can’t help but treasure the picture in my mind of what we could have been together. The idealistic voice in my head wants me to remember her that way and to honor the heart I once knew.

But the cynical and hurt voice says, “You wouldn’t have wanted her anyway.”

I want to listen to the first voice, but maybe the reality of losing love means I have no choice but to believe I wouldn’t have wanted her anyway. Maybe I’ll never know which voice is telling me the truth.

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On a live awards show Sunday night, one man made a joke about a female celebrity. The husband of the celebrity was offended and hit the man who made the joke. Or maybe it was staged for entertainment. Who knows? Who cares? Social media is full of discussion — and even arguments — about this idiocy today. This baffles me. Let’s assume for a moment that the event happened as reported. People have been having such idiotic fights ever since there have been humans. Half the bars in the world see such brief dustups regularly. It simply doesn’t matter. The fact that so many people believe they need to talk about this — or even need to have opinions about it — is more evidence of the bizarre media brainwashing that convinces many to care passionately about brain-dead trivia. Your life will be happier and saner if you focus on yourself, your family and your friends, not on whatever scripted (or spontaneous) bilge that the media wants to pipe into your home.

I’m in the middle of migrating this website to new servers this week. This means you might encounter some unexpected behavior until I get all the bugs worked out. Clicking on my links (including this one) might cause your browser to give you the message that it’s a site without a current security certificate. It’s not actually unsafe, but there’s something which isn’t yet set up for the security certificate. I apologize for any such errors you might encounter while the process is going on. If you notice any problems with content which didn’t migrate properly, I would appreciate you letting me know the details at davidmcelroy@mac.com. Thanks for your patience.

I often wonder what animals think when they look at us and consider the society we’ve created. Yes, I know this is fanciful and unrealistic, but what if they could? Would they be astounded at how we treat each other? Would they be disgusted by the ugliness and pettiness which fill so many of our daily interactions? The truth is that I’m feeling pretty disgusted with humanity tonight. I made the mistake of reading some online interactions that I should have avoided — and it sickened me. The people involved appeared to be vile and stupid and arrogant. I wish I could pretend they’re a tiny minority, but I know better. It’s times such as this when I most need to escape much of “civilization” and disconnect from their world. If humans are going to be worthy of “ruling this planet,” we have a lot of growth to do. And I fear that growth is nowhere in sight. So my buddy Thomas, above, and all of his friends would be right to judge us harshly — and to think, “Why do you folks get to be in charge?”

I should have expected this, but I honestly didn’t. The article I wrote last week about disagreements over treatment for autistic children brought me angry emails. You could almost call it “hate mail.” Of the five emails about it so far, two have been to tell me that I’m wrong to even listen to critics of the most popular therapy for autistic children — and the other three tell me I’m wrong for not condemning the treatment as the “obvious” abuse it is. If you read the article, you know I didn’t take a position on the issue, because I simply don’t know enough to have an opinion. But by talking about the issue, I stepped into a heated controversy. The emails from the two sides convinced me of nothing. But they did give me even more empathy for the unfortunate parents who have to figure out for themselves where the truth lies for their children.

Have you ever had what you thought was a new idea — and then discovered that “old you” had the same idea years ago? I had that experience tonight. And it’s been wonderful. I came up with an idea tonight for a very short satirical film that would be a promotion for a fictitious college. The point is to make the college promote — as good things — everything which is actually terrible about most modern colleges. Then I remembered a fake college that I invented back when I was in college. I had created student recruitment brochures and various newsletters back then, so I decided to call my “new” college by the same name I’d invented years ago: Ochita College. As I searched my computer for any old material I might still have about Ochita from the past, I discovered an email I sent to someone in 2009 — outlining essentially the same idea which I came up with tonight. Since I didn’t remember writing that, it felt like magic. So my next film project just might be this one instead. If all goes well, you might soon see “Ochita College: Your Future Starts Here.” This should be fun.

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