My discussion of Perscheux and Évariste necessarily begins in late 2005, before I knew about the existence of either of these people. To make a long story short (I just deleted about 500 words of it), on 19 Nov 2005, after a series of relationship-related catastrophes that included two seemingly viable plans for Homecoming falling through, I made a landmark decision: I took the Vow of Nienna, reproduced below.
The Vow of Nienna
taken in the form of Elendil’s Oath
I, Telperiën Vardamir, hereby take the Vow of Nienna and the Oath of Elendil, and swear in the name of Narsil and the Vardamir and the Silmarils and Númenor the Downfallen that I shall remain thus alone until Yestarë S.A. 3423. If Nienna is not with me because I have thrice betrayed Her, then so is the doom I have wrought for myself, but if She be forgiving and has the mind to render aid, then I call upon Her to heal the hurts that Ániero and Parfdil have done. I understand that fealty will be rewarded with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance. So say I, Telperiën Vardamir, daughter of Elendë Duchess of Rómenna of the Númenóreans, on this twenty-ninth day of this eleventh month, in the year 3418 of this Second Age.
Beyond the Elvish and the flowery language, the resolution is clear: I will not be in a relationship until 2010. However, I believe that there is another statement beyond that one, at the very core of the Vow: I will uncompromisingly protect my liberty and individuality. Even then, before I truly became attached to any of my boyfriends, I feared that a relationship would threaten those things most dear to me.
I made three copies of the Vow. One I taped onto my desk, another I posted on my bulletin board, another I attached to my principal file folder. My original handwritten draft I stuck on my door mirror. I intended the Vow to be as omnipresent as possible, a constant reminder of the commitment I had made—a commitment to myself.
I kept the Vow for 15 months. I shaped my peculiarities, I discovered many passions, I embraced liberty. And then, on 20 Feb 2007, I broke the Vow. I wrote a letter to Ernest, as full of esoteric references and flowery language as the Vow, but which also concealed a simple message: I love you.
Thus began my relationship with Ernest. And from then on, with the Vow broken but by no means forgotten, it was always a question of: What have I gained? What have I lost?
Often, it seemed that whatever I had lost was greatly overshadowed by what I had gained, and thereby I justified my remaining in a relationship. But it was always apparent that I had lost something.
Ernest was the first boyfriend I truly felt attached to. With him, I began to lose my individuality, my self-respect, and my perspective. At this point, my true self was still strong enough to identify the series of changes that was happening and to make occasional resistance attempts. However, I had lost a sufficient amount of self-respect such that I never would have taken the initiative to terminate the relationship. Ernest did that for me, and in retrospect, I must say that I am thankful.
I now recognise the days between the beginning of the incident that initiated the breakup and my finally letting go as a criticial period in my life. At the time, I called this period the Nine Days of Liberation. But now, I realise that there were only eight days of liberation. For I made a critical mistake: I did not take the time to rebuild my self-identity, my self-respect, my perspective. On the ninth day, with all these attributes still languishing, I entered into 17 more months of self-degradation.
My relationship with Perscheux commenced happily, as all relationships tend to do. Before long, however, I had discovered four traits that fundamentally characterised him: closed-mindedness, apathy, immaturity, and instability. His closed-mindedness was manifested in his philosophy that all that mattered was directly related to his future career in computer science, and everything else, including the whole concept of liberal arts, was tantamount to brainwashing. His apathy was manifested in his lack of concern for society, politics, economics, and, most importantly, self-improvement. His immaturity was manifested in his inability to deal with "the System" and his belief that he could go against "the System" without suffering the consequences. And his instability was manifested in his continuous rollercoaster of unsorted emotions, and not least in his frequent meditations on suicide and several attempts.
In reaction to these characteristics, I made several fatal mistakes. Refusing to be laissez-faire with regard to what I perceived as a crash course towards disaster, I assumed an authoritarian role, which I hated. I micromanaged his time and demanded full disclosure of his actions. For each of his mistakes I exacted uncompromising justice. And when he ceased to be emotionally and intellectually pleasing, I began demanding material tribute, including but not limited to expensive roses, amethyst jewelry, and blood.
I lost my integrity by practically doing Perscheux's homework for him. I lost my honesty by devising a grand lie in which Perscheux's parents unknowingly allowed him to go to the beach with me. I lost certain friendships by isolating and distancing myself from well near everyone except Perscheux. I lost my beliefs by allowing myself to be "converted" to "Christianity". I lost my perspective and my raison d'être by scorning liberty and individuality and embracing a world where Perscheux was the inspiration, the means, and the end to everything. I lost my respect for my teachers by casting loathing looks at those who gave Perscheux bad grades, cursing them in secret. I lost my respect for my parents by angrily retorting every time they said something negative about Perscheux. I lost my respect for myself by remaining in this relationship. Moreover, I bore these losses with pride, proclaiming, "See how much I would happily sacrifice for you? See how much you are worth to me?"
In effect, my relationship with Perscheux completely destroyed my true self. Stéphanie-Felice and all the ideas and principles she stood for were no more. In her place came Marie, a being who was completely dependent on Perscheux and veritably only existed because of Perscheux. What was more, Marie managed to convince herself that she was happy. Even in the greatest depths of despair, she avowed that she would have it no other way: "I would live as Marie and die a stranger rather than be without you."
Then I went to college.
At college, I established myself in a circle of unique and supportive friends. After a lull of well over a year, I developed new academic passions for chemistry, particle physics, and Les Misérables. My successes across the board in my classes nurtured in me a new sense of self-confidence. I acquired many types of liberty, and with these new liberties came a newly strong love of liberty. I actually found things that I would rather do than sitting around waiting for Perscheux to respond to my messages, and being free to do them, I did.
At college, I gained back much of what I had lost. Because Marie had no integrity, respect, individuality, or liberty, she had convinced herself that they were worthless. But as I slowly developed a sense of self again, these things began to assume more value, and gradually, the trade-off between the newly reborn Stéphanie-Felice and Perscheux appeared less and less favourable.
On 22 Nov 2008, the trade-off suddenly seemed far too disproportionate. I dumped Perscheux in a matter of three sentences and two minutes, conducted a 20-minute password-changing frenzy, and burst into the dining hall proclaiming to my friend: "I dumped Perscheux! I dumped Perscheux! La liberté me vaut plus!" We embraced each other, veritably jumping for joy, and I promptly proceeded to consume not one, but two slices of cheesecake at dinner.
The following day, I walked back from dinner with two close friends. The air was crisp and misty. We sang "Les Champs-Élysées" to the nightfall in perfect unison, warming up our voices for our talent show performance later that night, which included the "Large Hadron Rap". And finally we stayed up until 0500 at my suite, discoursing freely on everything from chemistry to national sovereignty. It was an amazing feeling.
Meanwhile, sometime in late September or early October, I had met Évariste. My impression of him changed frequently, from an annoying physics-obsessed student in the corner of the CHEM 181 lecture who asked too many questions to a brilliant classmate who seemed conversational on any topic to an individual with whom I felt a large degree of intellectual affinity but whom I disliked as a person. For the most part, however, he was nothing more or less than an interesting person to be around, and we soon found ourselves as members of the same chemistry study group and collaborators in an epic four-year Les Misérables project.
The situation was complicated slightly when my friend confirmed my suspicion that Évariste liked me. My first answer to the question "Would you go out with Évariste?" was a resounding no, based on my new condition that I would not allow any limitations on my liberties, and my conviction that Évariste would not be able to uphold this condition were he in a relationship with me. His denunciation of positive liberties and his noncompliance with a promise he had made to work on the project seemed to seal my opinion.
But in the early morning hours of 6 Dec 2008, with a non-operational voice and two days before the beginning of finals, I decided, for a reason still unclear to me, to give Évariste a chance—provided that he accept the conditions.
And since it would take many thousand more words to describe what I have learned about Évariste since then, I shall simply list a few examples. His framework is based upon the interaction of negative liberties to create positive liberties. He has the practicality of an adult and the idealism of a child. He has had to put up with quite a bit of crap, yet his principles and optimism don't seem compromised. He actually cares about his grades and plans to ace CHEM 182L.
Évariste, of course, is not perfect. However, he believes in self-improvement and constantly works towards it, sometimes grounded in theory, sometimes applying the scientific method. There is none of the childish "take me as I am or leave me" attitude as with Perscheux. No; instead, the attitude is, "I want to change for the better, and you can be my external pressure."
I am still not sure exactly why I trust Évariste. All I know is that I have suffered no loss of liberty, individuality, respect, integrity, or anything else that I cherish. In other words, I have become attached to Évariste without becoming detached in the slightest from my sense of self. I have effectively entered into a relationship while upholding the Vow of Nienna, if one reads from the Vow only its core meaning.
This is no more a problem of economics and opportunity cost. The question of What have I gained? What have I lost? is now invalid. I have lost nothing. And as for what I have gained, well...
Évariste once told me that he would die for love, republicanism, and maths. I interpret this statement very liberally. I think that love consists of not only his affection for me but also his search for Truth, Light, and Purpose, quite separate from the notion of religion. To me, republicanism means not only his resentment of the French monarchy but rather all of his principles and values, upon which he builds an upright and respectable character. And maths refers not only to group theory but also to his admirable intellect, his passion for just about all fields of knowledge, and his insatiable desire to learn.
Love, republicanism, and maths. What more could I possibly ask for in a man?
The original vow of Nienna, preserved intact after having been removed from my file folder.
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