Monday, October 26, 2009

How Much Of An Asshole Do You Have To Be Not To Beat Yourself Up Over It

I don't get up in the morning with the idea that I'm going to be a real son of a bitch today. I always try to be a pretty good guy but it never has worked out that well for me. I always appreciate it when people are honest with me, even if I don't like what they have to say. I try to return the favor but a lot of the time it's too easy to just tell people what they want to hear and avoid the hurt and drama that the truth is going to cause. I try not to take advantage of people when they're vulnerable but that's kind of the basis for the entire free enterprise, survival of the fittest society we've set up for ourselves and so admire. Truth be told, though, I've never survived all that fitly.

I had this girlfriend once. We were both still teenagers, just left home. I was a year older. She was a really nice girl, clean, smart and pretty. I couldn't figure out why she was interested in me. I still don't. She could have done a lot better but for what ever reason she let me hang around a lot.

Anyway, this girl had a real block about any sexual behavior. She enjoyed a lot of physical and emotional intimacy but as soon as it started to get overtly sexual she shut down. It was kind of sweet and quite a challenge. Eventually, through trial and error, I figured out that if I bathed her in the evening, dressed her in a flannel nightgown and brushed her hair out, she'd go into a kind of happy fugue state and enthusiastically participate in whatever twisted carnal behavior I could think up.

I wasn't stupid. It was pretty clear to me why she was like that. Her mother had died when she was very young and she had been raised by a doting father that never remarried. She wouldn't tolerate a bad word about him. Once I had it figured out, the situation deteriorated pretty quickly, even though she was having a great time. I began to need liquor to be around her. That's never a good sign. I had enough of a conscience to slink away but not enough of a conscience to force the issue and make her confront it. I saw it could lead to all kinds of unpleasantness and I didn't want to be in the middle of it.

That girl and I don't keep in touch. I hear things about her from time to time. It's pretty clear that she's never dealt with the father issue. I try not to think about it too much but I'm not likely to forget it either. This kind of thing is like being in a train wreck and walking away but guilty ever after that you never did anything to save anyone else involved.

4 comments:

Steve Harkonnen said...

Ah. Bitches. We can't live with 'em and we certainly can't live without 'em, shipmate.

reddog said...

I have to admire the way your generation doesn't fence off too much emotional real estate, cowboy. What's the point? It's not like you can round up all the broken hearts when the leaves turn, drive them to the nearest rail head, sell 'em off and get drunk on the proceeds, is it?

Anonymous said...

Have you had a girlfriend since the teenage years? Or did the sailor-boy outfits and tight naval quarters bring out your latent androphilic tendencies? I've heard it works to stave them off with Sailor Jerry fetish art.. Yes, keep looking at cartoon boobies-- you aren't gay, you aren't gay..

reddog said...

I don't know about the tattoos. sometimes they seem cool but I've known a lot of guys with serious buyer's remorse.

Geez, don't I wish I was Gay. I've got the acerbic wit and artistic temperament. I could have been a Star.

I have always believed I'm trans gender, a lesbian trapped in a man's body but I'm just not willing to make that kind of commitment. I do think that in my prime I would have made a very attractive dyke.