Looking Back at All the Stories Read Thus Far, the Two That Are Most Interesting to Me

Lust in LA

Looking back at all the stories read thus far, the two that are most interesting to me personally are “Love in LA” by DagobertoGilb and “Lust” by Susan Minot. I find these two stories interesting in how they explore the basic male and female attitude about love and the way they relate to the opposing gender. The two stories present opposing views, which are still very loudly resonant in the lifestyles of young people today as they were in the ‘80s and the ‘90s, when these stories were written.

The nameless main female character of the story “Lust” is a teenager with impressionable mind and lack of common sense. She is impulsively pleasing and gives into whatever her momentary sexual partner wants of her. At the same time, she instinctively knows that there is something inherently wrong with the way they make her feel. “I sat on a cracked chest by the open window and smoked till I felt even worse, waiting for something – I guess for him to get back.” (Meyer, 232) Throughout the story she is waiting for one of the guys to something drastically different that will make her feel differently than just a sex toy. She is waiting for a “prince charming”.

“Safe, at rest, in a restful dream”(Meyer, 231) – these are things made of Disney magic and “happily ever afters”. A complete surrender, trust and sense of security are what every female looks for in a partner. Society has played a trick on all women, taught them that this “magic” is what awaits them as they start to seek out love. But the reality is that many women have come to realize a different truth, and so does the narrator/main character by the end of this story. The truth is that women are objectified from their young age. As it is often in real life, the character in the story realizes that complete surrender can, more times than not, lead to a dark and sad place. A cave in which sadness doesn’t stop.

“Certain nights you’d feel a certain surrender, maybe if you’d had wine. The surrender would be forgetting yourself and you’d put your nose to his neck and feel like a squirrel, safe, at rest, in a restful dream. But then you’d start to slip from that and the dark would come in and there’d be a cave. You make out the dim shape of the windows and feel yourself become a cave, filled absolutely with air, or with a sadness that wouldn’t stop.

Teenage years. You know just what you’re doing and don’t see the things that start to get in the way. “ (Meyer, 231)

Instead of sadness, a girl might chose to take on the same approach to love as a boy.

“The more girls a boy has, the better. He has a bright look, having reaped fruits, blooming. He stalks around, sure-shouldered and you have the feeling he’s got more in him, a fatter heart, more stories to tell. For a girl, with each boy it’s as though a petal gets plucked each time.

Then you start to get tired. You begin to feel diluted, like watered-down stew.” (Meyer, 233)

She thinks she is reaping fruits, and being of modern outlook on life, but instead she is being used. Emotionally unable to understand what it entails to surrender “body and soul”, through the experience of sex and multiple partners, the narrator gains insight into what she is losing. With each and every indiscretion, she becomes “used”, “watered-down”. But not because of the reasons society sets by the way of societal taboos. She truly feels this way because every time she sleeps with the boy, she shuts herself in and is unable to emotionally connect. The only way for her to connect to another being is through sex. And the more promiscuous she is, the less she is able to form a true relationship, or see through those relationships that are empty and worthless.

Finally, after countless, nameless and faceless lovers, the narrator is becoming aware of what is happening to her, what are all the “things that start to get in the way” (Meyer, 231). She feels ruined, overwhelmed with sadness. After all, there is nothing left for her but death inside; her undoing is of her own hand. In such a predictably female manner, the narrator blames herself; it’s her own fault. She can’t help it. This is how women have been conditioned to feel and think since before we invented words for it – submission, compliance, surrender, obedience.

And perhaps it is her fault. One would argue that she knew what she was doing. She knew when to stop and say “no”, but she didn’t. She would call it being a “cock-teaser”, and couldn’t allow herself to say or suggest doing something without going through with it. For all those boys she was nothing but a conquest. As soon as they were done with her, she would disappear from their thoughts and their desires.

“After sex, you curl up like a shrimp, something deep inside you ruined, slammed in a place that sickens at slamming, and slowly you fill up with an overwhelming sadness, an elusive gaping worry. You don’t try to explain it, filled with the knowledge that it’s nothing after all, everything filling up finally and absolutely with death. After the briskness of loving, loving stops. And you roll over with death stretched alongside you like a feather boa, or a snake, light as air, and you… you don’t even ask for anything or try to say something to him because it’s obviously your own damn fault. You haven’t been able to – to what? To open your heart. You open your legs but can’t, or don’t dare anymore, to open your heart. “(Meyer, 235-236)

I wonder if she still has the courage left to open her heart. Would any girl or woman? The only way for the narrator is to disappear and reinvent herself. Author suggests that at the end: “Their blank look tells you that the girl they were fucking is not there anymore. You seem to have disappeared.” (Meyer, 236) She actually, for the first time, not by giving her body away, but by gaining it back, also gains her freedom and “her restful dream”.

If the story “Lust” was written from a point of view of Jake from LA, I would imagine it would read very much like the Playboy, which of course everyone buys for the great articles and weekly recipes it has. It’s a good thing there is a story such as “Love in LA” where Jake can take the stage and shine.

“”I really am sorry about hitting you like that”. He sounded genuine. He fondled the wide dimple near the cracked tail light. “It’s amazing how easy it is to put a dent in these new cars. They’re so soft they might replace waterbeds soon.” Jake was confused about how to proceed with this. So much seemed so unlikely, but there was always possibility. “So maybe we should go out to breakfast somewhere and talk it over.”” (Meyer, 220)

Jake, the main character in this story is a typical guy on a conquest. This idea of a conquest is suggested by the author’s description of the morning traffic. Turning beneath the overpass on Alvarado Street, is suggestive of Pedro and Alonso de Alvarado, whom were both Spanish soldiers in the conquest of Mexico and Latin America. Jake’s car, a 58’ Buick, is a flashy classic, with its looks emphasizing the masculine macho image of Jake, which is also supported by the details of his lifestyle – “exotic colognes, dark nightclubs, misty and sexy ladies in satin gowns.” He sees an opportunity at every corner. He tries to seize every opportunity hoping it brings him closer to his daydream of steady employment, new car and winter drives at the beach. An even in this moment of an accident, Jake is more concerned with getting the girl’s phone number than he is about fixing her car.

The girl’s car is quite damaged. Her trunk lid, tail lights, bumper, all needs replacing. Jake suggests that the car is soft and easy to damage. And the reader can’t help but associate this characteristic of the girl’s Toyota, with her own vulnerability. Especially when we find out that she lives with her parents and they bought her the car. But Jake is persistent still, insisting to take her out to breakfast.

“He made up a last name and address and wrote down the name of an insurance company an old girlfriend once belonged to. He considered giving a real phone number but went against that idea and made one up.

“I act too,” he lied to enhance the effect more. “Been in as couple of movies.”

She smiled like a fan.

“So how about your phone number?” He was rebounding maturely.

She gave it to him.

“Mariana, you are beautiful,” he said in his most sincere voice.

“Call me,” she said timidly.

Jake Beamed. “We’ll see you, Mariana,” he said holding out his hand

Her hand felt so warm and soft he felt like he’d been kissed. “(Meyer, 221)

When every effort to get Mariana to fall for his “b.s” had failed, on her insisting, Jake gave her his information and his insurance, only it was all made up. Everything about him is a made up story. A different story for every girl, a different Jake every day. He was a musician last night, today he is an actor, even been in a couple of movies. And here is where we realize how skillfully Gilb uses the setting of the story. Where is in the physical and imaginary world, the place where all things are made up and everyone can be different people all at once if not in Hollywood. And this is Jake’s true freedom – living in Hollywood where he can pretend to be the people he desires to be. Ironically, this is also his prison. He is clearly a guy of questionable legal status, and the freedom he wants for him does not exist outside of his Hollywood day dream. And Mariana is an impossible conquest for him.

“He turned the ignition key and revved the big engine and clicked into drive. His sense of freedom swelled as he drove into the now moving traffic, though he couldn’t stop the thought about the FM stereo radio and crushed velvet interior and the new car smell that would even make it better.” (Meyer, 221)

So what else is there for Jake left to do? He “revved the big engine”, a showing off his male muscle and drove off back into his daydream of FM stereo and a new car. In the end the girl wasn’t that important. She was just a stop along the way. And as suggested in the story “Lust”, Jake similarly is unable to connect to a real person and real emotion. His life of pretend is so intricate and for him it is so easy to whip up a lie and live it in that moment, that he has no ability to connect to reality. The only thing that is real for him is his car, which is just a symbol of his masculinity.