Too tired for the beach

 

Sept. 7th 1980

 

What is motivation?

 I mean what makes us humans to what we do?

Those are questions which flicker through my mind now with the pain of guilt as I wake to face the morning again.

John Mark called this morning wanting to visit beach.  Only Susan and I were no condition to go.

I was up until 3 a.m. with the band at club and could barely hear myself making my excuses to John, my voice was so strained.

Susan was as weary as I was, but John sounded hurt and said he had made all these plans and now we were ruining them.

This wasn’t fair. I was too foggy to think straight. I could barely keep my eyes open.

Later, when I had time to wake up, I wondered just what kind of plans I ruined, when he had only invited us out to the beach at 9 p.m. last night.

He has become a master manipulator, and I sense the only wants to force us into complying with his wishes.

He needed a ride to the beach and we were his wheels.

I get quilted into things easily, and though I get angry about it, I often do exactly what people want me to do if they push the right buttons.

With John not taking my refusal, I handed the phone to Susan.

She looked at the phone, then at me, then at the phone again as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and could read the manipulation more quickly.

She tried to sound stern. But after a moment, she covered the mouthpiece with the palm of her hand and said, “Take this will you, he’s yelling at me.”

I had settled back into the pillow.

I could not understand why the man refused to accept no as our answer.

Later, I realized that he was motivated by desperation, often painting bright pictures of a dismal reality so that others are attracted and will keep him company, even when they become as miserable as he is in the process.

He ached to see the beach and he wanted company, and got even angrier when I returned to the phone and told him to find someone else.

He was still shouting at me when I hung up, but he didn’t call back. So I presume he got the message.

 

 


New monologue menu

blog menu

New photo/video menu

Main Menu

email to Al Sullivan