Wednesday, August 19, 2009

I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti

I just finished "I loved, I lost, I made spaghetti" by Giulia Melucci. According to its eponymous website, it's supposed to be a "deliciously hilarious" read about the author's "fizzled romances and the mouth-watering recipes she used to seduce her men, smooth over the lumps, and console herself when the relationships flamed out."

Tell me, given the above premise, how the hell is it supposed to be hilarious? It's not even a little bit funny for one thing. While I can vouch that it is a fascinating read, the only reason why it is interesting is not because it is supposedly funny (not at all) but because it is like witnessing a road accident. You know the scene will be grisly, but you can't tear your eyes away from it. I flipped to the next page to see how poor Guilia is going to self-destruct her next relationship again.
It's like she relies way too much on her own intuition and emotion to determine the health of the relationship. She thinks she senses the end, she tries even harder to resusitate it, way more than what all the boyfriends do, and we don't even get to hear their side of the story. Methinks that she overthinks it and ends up driving the other party away (or even more, if her sensing is right). And on top of that, she gives too much every time, she tries too hard to be loved, as if she wants to somehow overcompensate for being a virgin for too long. That fact seemed to jar very much on her, which I don't understand why. What's wrong with remaining a virgin until you're 23? I mean, treat it like it's a precious gift, gal. And not as a stigma that you couldn't get a man to pop your cherry earlier.
She has way too low self-esteem to begin with, which obviously has not been helped much by the therapists she saw. As I continued reading, Guila herself admits that she is growing desperate to be in a relationship as she grows older. Especially in the case of Lachlan.
She tries to claw into Lachlan the moment she meets him, by dangling the fact that she is a publisher, when she learns that he is a unsuccessful writer. She tries too damn hard to get him recognised and accepted by literary agents, then she feels unappreciated for her efforts. She lets him leech on her, board him at her house for free, then becomes resentful when he eats pricey canned tuna? WTF. Girl, doesn't it cross your mind to not even put yourself in the situation in the first place? I mean you have been in quite a few bad (and long) relationships, you could at least learn something from them, other than your excellent recipes (should be I loved, I lost, I made Pasta/ I cook Italian). The best part is that she points out on hindsight that other people, like her mother, dislike her partners, while she likes to defend her relationships to friends by saying it is her fault when things go bad (so that she can do something about it, since it's her fault, you see). She is quite pathetic, and self-destructive. I feel very awful after I read the book.

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