Dulcinea

For months, I’ve been listening to the song Dulcinea. When I first listened, I cried.

Sometimes, when I listen to this song, when I’ve been alone in my room for too long and I’ve begun to feel insane and worthless, I still cry.

The song is sung by Don Quixote, a crazy man: he believes he is a valiant knight, he fights imaginary monsters and he dreams impossible dreams. Everyone agrees that he is a fool.

The song is sung for a barmaid, some down-and-out wretch slinging beer.

She’s common. She’s nothing. She’s only worth sex and beer.

But in Quixote’s eyes she is everything. “I have dreamed thee too long, never seen thee or touched thee, but known thee with all of my heart.”

Quixote had never really believed a woman as perfect as his Dulcinea could even exist… but suddenly here she is, his prayer turned to flesh. “I see heaven when I see thee, Dulcinea.”

Quixote had lived his whole life desperately wishing to find her, and now she’s within his hand’s reach. “Let my fingers but see, thou art warm and alive, and no phantom to fade in the air.” 

For Quixote his delusion is ecstasy.

But for Dulcinea, to have a man poeticizing her presence, a man telling her that she’s beautiful, special and perfect when no man has ever said anything but that she’s worthless… well a stupid girl could begin to believe that maybe it could be true… maybe she could be important. Maybe she could be someone's song.

But then to have the man rhapsodizing her be insane… this sort of poetic agony is what great comedy is made of. 

“Now I’ve found thee and the world should know thy glory.” Then Quixote leaves her. 

And now her knight, her mad would-be savior, is gone. And she’s alone again.

And now the men in the bar begin to mock her. The very notion that she could be worth anything mocked by all those who are sane…

The song makes me cry, because that’s the way of the world, isn’t it? We find something or someone to love passionately, we dream that this can save us… and be saved by us… And to us, our beloved means the entire world. Nothing is worth anything without this dream…

But to the world we are always fools. Our dreams are nothing more than wretched bar maids that men grope and mock and tell that they are worthless.

But fuck those men at bars. What does it matter what those men think of our worlds? Who are they to decide what is valuable and worthy of love?

What we love IS worth everything, because we have decided that it’s true. Their malicious thoughts can do nothing to destroy us if we don’t allow them to.

Love is going to save us.