When I first saw The Man Beast, I couldn't understand why Virginie gave Jean so many chances to redeem himself. From the very beginning he should have been unredeemable, barging in and demanding, and I chalked it up to cultural differences maybe, just that the standard for men was lower because it was 1700s France and I'm just not used to that?
But the more I thought about it, and really considered her reasoning, the more I felt that she gives him so many chances because she's afraid he's her only choice
Who knows how long she was alone before she met Marcell? Did he turn her, did she turn him? Either way, it doesn't seem as though she thought she'd ever love again after he died
And then she meets another man, who lives in the woods like her, who seems to despise the town like she does, and she thinks, lets give him a chance!
Maybe he's a little rough around the edges, maybe he's rude, but he can be kind when pressed, he can show gratitude and maybe he's alright, after all, they can't all be like Marcell, right?
So she gives him a chance, and then another, and then another and then another, not because he deserves it, but because he has to be worthy of another chance, because what other shot at love does she have?
Who else understands the woods like she does? Who else understands the isolation from society the way she does? She's only got one shot and she's determined to make this work, even if Jean doesn't seem to be putting in the same amount of effort
And it struck me so strongly how similar of an experience this is to the experience of being on the aromantic spectrum
Of experiencing attraction, however fleeting, however foolish, and holding onto it as tight as you can because who else is going to fill that gap? And society tells you that you need to find someone, you need to have a partner, you can't stay alone forever, so you hold onto that hope, that feeling, that sensation, in desperation that maybe this time it will work out, so who knows the next time you'll experience attraction like that?
So you force yourself to hold on to hope for just a little longer, confessing when you know it's fruitless, because maybe, just maybe if you give them one more chance, it'll work out, even when you know deep down that it won't
Anyways, Virginie did nothing wrong and I'm not projecting on her in any way shape or form in this post
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