Surely it might be possible to find a single exception to Proust's maxim; but the fact remains that most of what we know as great has come to us from neurotics, minds of sufficient scope to envision huge vistas of possibility. In the sights of such minds, nestled in among the revolutionary visions of greatness, are the possibilities of the less than great: the failures, dilemmas, misunderstandings, the out-and-out terrors of which neurosis is made. To embrace genius almost necessarily invites the neurotic to one's bosom.
Genius is, of course, seductive to those who can appreciate it, if not wholly compelling. My great pal Miss X and I are two of those individuals who are irresistibly drawn to the bulging brain; as a result, we have had to take long, hard looks at the dynamics of the neurotic personality, invariably lodged in the crevices of cervellus maximus. Mine has always been the intuitive approach; being deeply neurotic myself, I've operated on the assumption that other people have the same buttons as I do. Miss X, however, with the zeal of a scientist, identified and categorized a procedure for dealing with these complex individuals, "Miss X's Rules for Dealing With the Neurotic Personality."
Submit to being called a neurotic.... Everything we think of as great has come to us from neurotics.
-The Guermantes Way
As much as we laughed at Miss X's Rules over late afternoon coffees, I took to incorporating the rules into my already sympathetic treatment of neurotic friends and paramours, with an equally scientific spirit. I conclude that she was correct; and so, to all of you who desire congress with the great, or potentially great,I pass along the rules for your own edification.
Neurotics are more comfortable when given choices. Neurotics, with their panoply of anxieties, worry about a lot. Not the least of their anxieties is being trapped in a situation that is, for one reason or another, untenable. Such a personality can imagine something wrong with virtually any option.
The neurotic type responds most favorably if empowered to make choices. If you ask an arch-neurotic "Do you want to have dinner on Tuesday?" you will probably get a waffling response, the result of the inner monologue asking all those questions ("Will I be too tired? Maybe I could see so-and-so that night? What if I don't feel like it at the time?" etcetera.) But ask the arch-neurotic "Do you want to have dinner on Tuesday, or possibly Friday, or maybe have lunch on Sunday?" and he or she will feel comfortable with all the options to choose from; and, anxious to please you as well, the neurotic may well ask which day is best for you. Once again, making sure to leave an option, you can say "Dinner on Tuesday is best for me, but it's up to you." You are likely to have, as you wished to propose, dinner on Tuesday.
Neurotics respond to the subjunctive case. Most native English speakers don't even realize that our language has a subjunctive case, but it exists in the deep recesses of our collective grammatical memory. We use it in speech without knowing it for what it is, when we use verbs that indicate conditions and possibilities, when we inquire if something might be possible, could or would be done.
These words suggesting contingencies give neurotics the breathing space, the potential escape routes that they require to avoid feeling trapped. If you ask a neurotic if he or she can do something, it demands an unqualified yes or no in response; to ask if they could do it allows that something might interfere in their willingness to oblige. And, of course, fearing rejection, most neurotics are anxious to oblige - as long as it doesn't make them feel trapped.
Neurotics often say the opposite of what they mean. Fear of rejection, fear of being laughed at, fear of making a fool of one's self... almost anyone who is thinking at all has probably suffered from some variation of this hypersensitivity at some time in their lives. The neurotic wallows in these dreads more than most. And so the most dearly held dreams, the declarations of love, avowals of what might be held in contempt are guarded close to the soul. So avid is the neurotic compulsion to protect the soft inner core that expressions of feeling are likely to emerge camoflaged in contrariness. The neurotic who tells you playfully that he hates you is far more likely to adore you.
Neurotics are more comfortable when they know your limits. The neurotic's world is a morass of pitfalls. Seeing, as they can, the world of horrible possiblities resulting from an ill-conceived action, they are prone to worry about which course of action is least dangerous. As a consequence, it is helpful, restfull and even reassuring to know what people like and don't like. You don't tell a neurotic to call you sometime; suggest the days and a range of hours that are agreeable to you, and you will probably get a call.
Neurotics are prone to compulsions; once in a relationship, they're in. Neurotics tend to be habitual creatures; their habits give them a structure, a sense that something-- habit-- is reliably there. If you can cross all the hurdles leading up to a relationship, the neurotic personality will be as compulsive in the relationship as in other habitual behaviors. The trick is not to make them feel trapped. Create the illusion that nothing is assumed, and faithfully observe rules one through four; all will be well, until such time as a neurotic reaction against stability rears its ugly head.
Even under the best of circumstances, neurotic reactions will occur. When they do, the best defense is no defense. Give a neurotic walking papers and they'll react against that, too; the harmony is at once restored, the force of habit triumphs.
If, on the other hand, you have had it with neurosis, and crave a less labyrinthine brand of interaction, neurotics are easy to turn away. Break rules one through four flagrantly. Demand specific appointments, allow for no conditions, possibilities or contingencies, and the genius who once captured your heart will surely flee in sheer panic.
"I have told you that without nervous disorder there can be no great artist. What is more," he added, raising a solemn forefinger, "there can be no great scientist either..."
-The Guerrmantes Way
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