Friday, January 14, 2011

The Stranger, an Innocent Man

I had a gift card for Barnes and Noble that was left over from something, and it turned out I had just enough left to buy a CD of Billy Joel's greatest hits.
Well, some of his greatest hits, anyway. "Scenes from an Italian Resturant" was missing. And some of the quirkier stuff, like "Stilleto."
But there were plenty of other songs, songs that remind you of that guilty pleasure of listening to Billy Joel music.
I say guilty pleasure because it's not cool to like Billy Joel. Despite how many albums the guy has sold, despite the number of hits he produced, Billy Joel has never carried that cache of, say, Bruce Springstein or Bono even though he's sold roughly the same number of records.
And the very fact that I'd mention those three in the same sentence has some of you screaming at this screen right now, either literally or figuratively.
Joel's song "The Stranger'' is not one of my favorites. On the other hand, is there anybody out there who doesn't understand what Joel is talking about? Don't we all have that hidden part of ourselves that, for whatever reason, we know better than to take out and show on any kind of regular basis?
Maybe it's that dark side that we don't want to admit too, or a soft side that we're embarassed about, or just that part of us that believes down deep, we really are more dangerous than anyone realizes.

                                        "Well we all have a face that we hide away forever
                                        And we take them out and show ourselves
                                        When everyone has gone
                                        Some are satin some are steel;
                                        Some are silk and some are leather
                                        They're the faces of the stranger
                                        But we love to try them on ..."

To expose that side is to become truly vulnerable to another person, to risk no longer being liked or at least changing the relationship forever.
I know it's popular to say that we admire people for being vulnerable, but I don't buy it. There is a reason we call such secrets "deep and dark." They're not meant to be exposed to the light of human relationship except as an act of ego on our own part that craves attention.
I mean, what's to be gained by it anyway? Oh, sure, the person we share those feelings with feel connected to us and act all emotionally moved that we'd be so willing to share our true feelings with them.
But it seems to me that what most of us want is the ability be vulnerable with someone else, not necessarily have them be vulnerable back to us. And when we "open'' ourselves up like that to someone, doesn't it come with the unspoken obligation to allow the other person to be vulnerable right back?
Here's the thing: I know women always say the love it when men show their vulnerable side, I think they really mean it - for about 24 hours. Then those same women realize they've seen a weakness, and I don't care what you say, women don't want to see weakness in the men they expect to support and care for them for the rest of their lives.
How can you protect, care, support, and all those other things that, down deep, women still want from a man and at the same time know his weakness? Superman never went around sharing with his friends his fear of kryptonite. Lois Lane knew about it, but not because in a moment of emotional vulnerability Superman - with tears in his eyes - "shared'' his darkest secret. Lois knew about it because at some point, in the course of saving Lois as well as all of humanity, she saw Superman nearly felled by exposure to kryptonite.
From that moment on, Superman knew Lois knew his weakness, just as Lois knew it; but I doubt they ever spoke of it again.
That's why if or when we let the "stranger'' out, it's always better to do it around people we don't know or will probably never see again; people that we have a limited relationship with, that we can cut off easily with no repercussions. Paid professionals. Or bartenders.
Joel does that in his music, whether it's self-destructive relationships (Stilleto or All for Leyna), inherit professional insecurity (Piano Man, The Entertainer), an obsessions with phone sex (Sometimes A Fantasy), insecurity (Sleeping With The Television On), a general disappointment with life (Where's The Orchestra), even the embarassingly mushy "Just The Way You Are" - embarassing, because the woman he wrote the song about he divorced, but everyone knows he wrote it about his first wife.
You don't really want to know the deep, dark me that is hidden away. I don't really want to take that me out, either, because the point is to grow and mature into that person we can be, rather than give in to that person we started out being.
I can tell you things about myself that will let you know me better. But then I'd have to break off all communication with you.
And I like you too much to do that.
Most of you, anyway.
Maybe that's why Billy Joel never quite pulled off the "cool'' factor of most of his contemporaries.
He told us all about his vulnerabilities in his songs.
We related, because we shared many of them ourselves.
And then we had to break off the relationship.
It was just too painful to keep going.


                                    You may be right
                                    I may be crazy.
                                    But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for ....

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