mustard on a hotdog, or not immediately to press the mute button when a possibly witty TV commercial appeared on the screen, or to sleep late on Saturday morning for a change instead of always on Sunday, the domestic situation sooner or later became unbearable.
At work and with his friends Devlin was, necessarily, more politic. He could hardly afford to change jobs merely because none of his ideas were accepted by his colleagues, a state of affairs that was pretty sure to be the same at any other place of business, and in social relations what mattered most was an atmosphere of good feeling: this was practically maintained by suppressing one’s own will rather than by seeking to impose it on others. Thus it seemed that his options in life were either compromise or failure. Which of course was true with most human beings. Why did he believe the situation should be otherwise for him? He could not explain it: it was just something he had always felt . That others did not share the feeling was what baffled him, but he could hardly confess as much to any of his fellow (and rival) laymen, and was well aware that if he did so to a professional he would be told, after going to considerable expense, simply to accept his lot.
Yet had he been asked, Devlin would have called himself really not unhappy but rather perhaps unfulfilled, his conception of happiness being also a compromise and consisting, once he was past thirty, in a comfortable sense that without power one was virtually immune to the kind of disasters that result from serving as the object of others’ envy.
Thus when one day he found, among the junk that clogged his mailbox, a pamphlet advertising a technique for the acquisition of personal power, how to dominate others in business, love, and recreational games, Devlin sniffed in amused contempt and dropped it into the trash along with the bogus notices that he had won (if certain conditions were met) vast sums of money, all-expenses-paid trips to Europe, and matched sets of luggage. But a moment later he retrieved the brochure, which might prove just the thing with which to divert the young woman he was currently dating. After seeing her on only two occasions he had utterly exhausted every subject for conversation that would not be certain to lead to an argument, for Annemarie took nonnegotiable positions on many matters and enjoyed wrangling. Whereas Devlin himself most definitely did not, to the degree that very little difference between him and a potential sexual partner was needed to extinguish his ardor. He had once lost his ability to perform when a woman with the most extravagant body he had ever seen in the flesh emerged from his bathroom with a mild complaint about the plumbing.
He had not yet been to bed with Annemarie, in fact had not yet really made a move on her. He waited people out. Such was the technique he had formulated over the years, given his basic inability to work his will on others by direct means. This was somewhat more successful in affairs of the heart, for he frequented spirited women, than in his career, where an officeful of competitive colleagues, mostly male, were never impatient with his apparent lack of ambition. He had not risen far in seven years with the same firm, but neither had he had to leave, which could not be said of several aggressive hotshots. On the other side of it, however, most of his current superiors were persons who could be similarly characterized but were even more ruthlessly opportunistic.
He remembered the pamphlet that evening. He had brought Annemarie to his apartment for the first time and had awaited her negative, perhaps even rude response to the decor or lack thereof, for his furniture consisted of what neither of his wives had wanted, along with an item or two from a nearby thrift shop operated by a religious charity, and the walls were bare, except for the calendar in the bedroom.
The meanness of his abode usually evoked a response from the women he
At work and with his friends Devlin was, necessarily, more politic. He could hardly afford to change jobs merely because none of his ideas were accepted by his colleagues, a state of affairs that was pretty sure to be the same at any other place of business, and in social relations what mattered most was an atmosphere of good feeling: this was practically maintained by suppressing one’s own will rather than by seeking to impose it on others. Thus it seemed that his options in life were either compromise or failure. Which of course was true with most human beings. Why did he believe the situation should be otherwise for him? He could not explain it: it was just something he had always felt . That others did not share the feeling was what baffled him, but he could hardly confess as much to any of his fellow (and rival) laymen, and was well aware that if he did so to a professional he would be told, after going to considerable expense, simply to accept his lot.
Yet had he been asked, Devlin would have called himself really not unhappy but rather perhaps unfulfilled, his conception of happiness being also a compromise and consisting, once he was past thirty, in a comfortable sense that without power one was virtually immune to the kind of disasters that result from serving as the object of others’ envy.
Thus when one day he found, among the junk that clogged his mailbox, a pamphlet advertising a technique for the acquisition of personal power, how to dominate others in business, love, and recreational games, Devlin sniffed in amused contempt and dropped it into the trash along with the bogus notices that he had won (if certain conditions were met) vast sums of money, all-expenses-paid trips to Europe, and matched sets of luggage. But a moment later he retrieved the brochure, which might prove just the thing with which to divert the young woman he was currently dating. After seeing her on only two occasions he had utterly exhausted every subject for conversation that would not be certain to lead to an argument, for Annemarie took nonnegotiable positions on many matters and enjoyed wrangling. Whereas Devlin himself most definitely did not, to the degree that very little difference between him and a potential sexual partner was needed to extinguish his ardor. He had once lost his ability to perform when a woman with the most extravagant body he had ever seen in the flesh emerged from his bathroom with a mild complaint about the plumbing.
He had not yet been to bed with Annemarie, in fact had not yet really made a move on her. He waited people out. Such was the technique he had formulated over the years, given his basic inability to work his will on others by direct means. This was somewhat more successful in affairs of the heart, for he frequented spirited women, than in his career, where an officeful of competitive colleagues, mostly male, were never impatient with his apparent lack of ambition. He had not risen far in seven years with the same firm, but neither had he had to leave, which could not be said of several aggressive hotshots. On the other side of it, however, most of his current superiors were persons who could be similarly characterized but were even more ruthlessly opportunistic.
He remembered the pamphlet that evening. He had brought Annemarie to his apartment for the first time and had awaited her negative, perhaps even rude response to the decor or lack thereof, for his furniture consisted of what neither of his wives had wanted, along with an item or two from a nearby thrift shop operated by a religious charity, and the walls were bare, except for the calendar in the bedroom.
The meanness of his abode usually evoked a response from the women he
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