Thursday, May 14, 2015

"Did your father ever... touch you?"

by Giselle Renarde


Here's me in bed. I'm twenty-two and tiny and tight as they come.

Here's me in bed with my ex.

Except the year is 2002, so he isn't my ex yet. He isn't my boyfriend, either. He's the man whose mistress I am. That's the best way I know how to describe him. You remember this guy--he's fifty-three and married to somebody else.

I'm the best he's ever had.

I love hearing that, and he tells me all the time. It's nice to get my ego stroked. It's not a favour I really return--except by sleeping with him every other day, I guess.

We've been at it since just after 6. Did you know they have one of those in the morning now? I never did, until he started letting himself into my one-room apartment, undressing at my kitchen table, then slipping between the sheets on my Ikea futon.

He joins me in bed just after 6 in the morning because 6 in the morning is when he usually goes to "the club." That's what he calls his gym. If he comes to my apartment (which is conveniently located only blocks away from "the club") instead, then his wife never asks where he's been. And if she never asks, he never needs to lie. It's like he isn't even cheating at all.

Almost like I don't exist. 

But if I didn't exist, how could I wrap my little hands around him? How could I take him in my mouth?  How could I roll with him in the muddled sheets while the cat runs and hides in the closet?

I'm here. I exist. And I'm sure his wife knows, because I hear wives know these things--even if they don't know they know.

But I don't think about the wife while I'm sucking her husband's cock. I'd probably feel guilty, if I did.

The sun hasn't even come up yet and we've already got one good fuck under our belts. We'll probably get another one in before he leaves, or maybe half of one. He doesn't usually finish the second time. After all, he is pretty old.

I feel tiny in his arms, and warm and precious. He traces his fingertips up my spine and down my side. He touches me everywhere and it feels so good that I simply enjoy the sensation. I never reciprocate. I don't consider that he might appreciate those tender touches. It doesn't even cross my mind.

And then he asks me, "Were you ever abused by your father?"

I don't know how to answer that. I don't know what he means.

He says, "Did your father ever... touch you?"

No. No!  Why would you even ask me that? No!

"Well, sometimes the memories get buried and you only remember later on, in adulthood."

He's asking if I was sexually abused as a child, and I find the question shocking because it's so far from my experience. My father was a mean drunk who was abusive toward my mother, but even that abuse was rarely witnessed by us kids. My sister likes to say we were emotionally abused, and I'll concede to that, but never anything physical.

My father is far from my favourite person, but I guess there must be a trace of care left in my heart, because I don't want people thinking he's a child molester. My best friend was sexually assaulted throughout her childhood. It's a life-altering torment I'm relieved not to share.

But this man in my bed thinks he's on to something. He gets all Jungian on me. Freudian, too, and he only ever brings out Freud in desperation.

"Because, really, a young girl like you who's sleeping with an old man like me... well, you're obviously seeking a father figure."

Okay, I'll concede to that if you don't make me think about it too hard. This relationship starts to feel like a boot-sucking quagmire once you really start to THINK about it. But that's just psychological icky-ness. What's it got to do with abuse?

"Well, it's just that you seem to ENJOY sex so much."

Yes. Yes I do.

"You're so EAGER, and you're GOOD at it. You want it just as much as I do--maybe more."

Yeah. So?

"So I'm not sure it's natural for a woman to crave sex quite the way you do."

I see...

"Behaving in an overly sexual manner is a classic symptom of child abuse."

In children. I'm twenty-two, in case you haven't noticed. Hormones have kind of taken over. Sex is my God now.

"You say you weren't abused, but maybe you've blocked it out. It'll all come back to you, one day."

Doubt it, old man. But I'll always remember this conversation.

~

14 comments:

  1. CONSCIENCE: So... we're sneaking around, deceiving our wife so we can have sex on a regular basis with this woman whose very existence we don't otherwise acknowledge. Do you think maybe there's something wrong here?

    MAN: Yes, Conscience, you're right! There is something wrong! It's my mistress—she's a SLUT to do this. She must be DAMAGED or something!

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  2. It's that double bind they get us with every time, Giselle. If you decide you don't want to have sex, you're a frigid bitch. On the other hand, if you actually like sex, if you meet a guy half-way, if you take the initiative, then you must be a filthy, skanky slut, because after all, nice girls don't do that, do they?

    I'm lucky. Guys might have been thinking this about me, but they rarely if ever said it.

    I would have kicked that bastard out of my bed right then and there. Or maybe I wouldn't have, because good sex definitely can make up for a significant amount of badness in a relationship, at least for a while.

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  3. I think this must be a straight man's problem! LOL. An eager sex partner is nothing to complain about!

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  4. I wonder if he might even have been getting off on the idea of your father abusing you. Or of being an abusive father himself. one hopes he wasn't actually a father.

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  5. I've been told by women that they'd been sexually abused, but that's not a question anybody but a professional should ask. Certainly not a lover.

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  6. Guys.
    Guys are so dumb.
    This was well written by the way, I really loved the sound of it, and I think its partly because I identified with the guy. No I'm not an adulterer and I've never boffed young ladies at any age, but what i identify with is his giving self destructive speeches. Guys. We do that. We want to show off how sophisticated we are, get up on our high horse and pontificate until women who liked us five minutes ago want to scream at us. we give women self serving information they don;t need and don;t want and spoil things. Oh god have I done that. Its definitely a guy thing.

    garce

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  7. Great post, Giselle. Like you and Sacchi, I wondered while reading that conversation whether he liked imagining you being sexually abused. Even if he never actually wanted to have some kind of sexual interaction with a child, he might have liked thinking of you as vulnerable and damaged as a result.

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  8. My reaction to this dude (at least in this vignette) can basically be summarized by adding about a million "u"s to the beginning of uuugh... I'm not sure which part I love (don't love) the most: the part where he thinks that liking sex means something has to be wrong with you, or the part where he flat out acts like he knows about your own life better than you do...

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