by Cat, 2002
Thinking... always thinking. That's me. I was thinking from the moment I felt our conversation shift. From the moment it changed for me... and became too... real. Too much. Okay, I got pulled in. I guess it was supposed to happen. He said he meant to try to get inside my head... and putting me in an uncomfortable position is part of it. Part of this... game. That I didn't play very well.
It's difficult to tell when he's teasing sometimes. You read something and it sounds so serious... but you don't hear it... you can't hear a voice and any inflection or tone. So you have to guess sometimes. That's sort of what happened I guess. It just got serious very quickly. And then he was asking me to take off all my clothes and I was trying to explain why I could not and... I thought I was explaining... but he just wasn't getting it... and then I thought maybe he was but... maybe didn't care... because I was supposed to just do what he said... and yes I know I could have stopped it with a word... but... I couldn't. I... just stopped thinking for those few brief moments and just reacted. Like I sometimes do. So when I feel threatened or cornered or anything I do one of two things... I either withdraw or push back. And I did both. I withdrew a little... at first... but then I just felt so frustrated... I mean, I was explaining WHY... why didn't he get it? I made it perfectly clear (so I thought)... so why is he pushing me?
And then he said I had made my choice... by not complying and not explaining.
So...
Fine. A small word... it can mean so many things. But the way I said it... meant only one thing. Fine. This is your game, but I am strong enough to take anything... do whatever you want...
He heard. And understood. I regretted it immediately. Not because I was "in trouble"... no... that didn't really matter... I mean it did... but what mattered most was... that he heard... and knew what I meant. That I was shutting him out. And not just that I wasn't playing... but more than that. That I... was pushing him away. That's what I regretted. Because I hadn't wanted to do that. I enjoyed talking to him, reading his stories, staying up way later than I should at hotels talking... always talking... about everything and nothing at all... I enjoyed him. And now... because I had allowed myself to fall back and do something I said I would never do with him... meaning push/test... things I've done that have cost me... well... what was he going to do? I apologized immediately. Which is rare... I don't normally do that. But like I said, I liked this one. And wanted to keep him. If he still wanted to stay. And I really hoped he did. He said we would talk about it later that night.
He asked if I deserved to be punished... and why. Admitting it was difficult. I didn't really want to. But he didn't say anything... ..he was waiting. I said I did... because of what I had said. Because of the way I had said it.
He talked about punishment. About my doing things that hurt myself in the long run. That I hurt him... that he tried... really tried... with me. I felt awful. Listening... all I could do was sit and listen and try not to cry. He said we'd do it the next night. Wash my mouth out with soap. At first I didn't really think he was serious. I had heard about that, but... well... had never even considered...
I was nervous. Millions of flutterbyes. Big ones. He had called while I was out checking the mail. Called early. So... I paged him... not quite ready to hear his voice but wanting to get it over with. He called back immediately. No warm up. No talk. Straight into "you know why I am calling... " I felt... trapped. Funny, because I didn't have to call him... could just have avoided the entire thing. Honestly... I wanted to stop him... tell him I couldn't do this then hang up. All day I had thought about it. And felt... so many different things... awful, that I had hurt him... anger, that he'd want to "punish" me... a little fear, for the same reason...
He was talking... I was listening. He said I didn't have to talk if I didn't want to. And I didn't really want to. I said I was sorry a couple of times. And then he was telling me what he wanted me to do. And I was thinking... no... I can't do this. As I was soaping the washcloth... I... hate to admit but I thought about not doing it at all... I mean, how would he know, right? He couldn't... wouldn't... unless I told him someday. But I would know. And... could I live with that? Knowing I had lied... because that was lying, wasn't it? Could I lie to this person... this person who had become a friend... who trusted me... this person I liked and wanted to continue talking to... and meeting again someday... could I lie about something like this? I knew the answer... even before I finished rationalizing. Of course I'd do it. And hate it, and maybe feel a little foolish... but... ... .I had to do it. And if I didn't do it... then I would have to tell him... before... that I could/would not. Staring at the washcloth... wondering if I could do this... could I? Glad in a way that he wasn't here... couldn't see what I was going through but then again wishing he was here...
I did it. It was awful. Not just the taste, but knowing why I was doing it. And then I had to stand in the corner. For what seemed like forever. Fidgeting... shifting from one foot to the other... waiting... thinking... feeling miserable... and then the soap making my throat even more sore... trying not to cough... trying not to swallow... then it was over... .I could rinse my mouth. Forgiven... could I forgive myself?
Then talking... gradually getting back to normal... I hate that my voice changes... I can hear it... the little girl quiet voice of a girl in trouble. Slowly getting my own voice back. More talking... I can't believe he has really forgiven me... but he has... why am I tougher on myself than others are?
Thinking... always thinking. That's me. I was thinking from the moment I felt our conversation shift. From the moment it changed for me... and became too... real. Too much. Okay, I got pulled in. I guess it was supposed to happen. He said he meant to try to get inside my head... and putting me in an uncomfortable position is part of it. Part of this... game. That I didn't play very well.
It's difficult to tell when he's teasing sometimes. You read something and it sounds so serious... but you don't hear it... you can't hear a voice and any inflection or tone. So you have to guess sometimes. That's sort of what happened I guess. It just got serious very quickly. And then he was asking me to take off all my clothes and I was trying to explain why I could not and... I thought I was explaining... but he just wasn't getting it... and then I thought maybe he was but... maybe didn't care... because I was supposed to just do what he said... and yes I know I could have stopped it with a word... but... I couldn't. I... just stopped thinking for those few brief moments and just reacted. Like I sometimes do. So when I feel threatened or cornered or anything I do one of two things... I either withdraw or push back. And I did both. I withdrew a little... at first... but then I just felt so frustrated... I mean, I was explaining WHY... why didn't he get it? I made it perfectly clear (so I thought)... so why is he pushing me?
And then he said I had made my choice... by not complying and not explaining.
So...
Fine. A small word... it can mean so many things. But the way I said it... meant only one thing. Fine. This is your game, but I am strong enough to take anything... do whatever you want...
He heard. And understood. I regretted it immediately. Not because I was "in trouble"... no... that didn't really matter... I mean it did... but what mattered most was... that he heard... and knew what I meant. That I was shutting him out. And not just that I wasn't playing... but more than that. That I... was pushing him away. That's what I regretted. Because I hadn't wanted to do that. I enjoyed talking to him, reading his stories, staying up way later than I should at hotels talking... always talking... about everything and nothing at all... I enjoyed him. And now... because I had allowed myself to fall back and do something I said I would never do with him... meaning push/test... things I've done that have cost me... well... what was he going to do? I apologized immediately. Which is rare... I don't normally do that. But like I said, I liked this one. And wanted to keep him. If he still wanted to stay. And I really hoped he did. He said we would talk about it later that night.
He asked if I deserved to be punished... and why. Admitting it was difficult. I didn't really want to. But he didn't say anything... ..he was waiting. I said I did... because of what I had said. Because of the way I had said it.
He talked about punishment. About my doing things that hurt myself in the long run. That I hurt him... that he tried... really tried... with me. I felt awful. Listening... all I could do was sit and listen and try not to cry. He said we'd do it the next night. Wash my mouth out with soap. At first I didn't really think he was serious. I had heard about that, but... well... had never even considered...
I was nervous. Millions of flutterbyes. Big ones. He had called while I was out checking the mail. Called early. So... I paged him... not quite ready to hear his voice but wanting to get it over with. He called back immediately. No warm up. No talk. Straight into "you know why I am calling... " I felt... trapped. Funny, because I didn't have to call him... could just have avoided the entire thing. Honestly... I wanted to stop him... tell him I couldn't do this then hang up. All day I had thought about it. And felt... so many different things... awful, that I had hurt him... anger, that he'd want to "punish" me... a little fear, for the same reason...
He was talking... I was listening. He said I didn't have to talk if I didn't want to. And I didn't really want to. I said I was sorry a couple of times. And then he was telling me what he wanted me to do. And I was thinking... no... I can't do this. As I was soaping the washcloth... I... hate to admit but I thought about not doing it at all... I mean, how would he know, right? He couldn't... wouldn't... unless I told him someday. But I would know. And... could I live with that? Knowing I had lied... because that was lying, wasn't it? Could I lie to this person... this person who had become a friend... who trusted me... this person I liked and wanted to continue talking to... and meeting again someday... could I lie about something like this? I knew the answer... even before I finished rationalizing. Of course I'd do it. And hate it, and maybe feel a little foolish... but... ... .I had to do it. And if I didn't do it... then I would have to tell him... before... that I could/would not. Staring at the washcloth... wondering if I could do this... could I? Glad in a way that he wasn't here... couldn't see what I was going through but then again wishing he was here...
I did it. It was awful. Not just the taste, but knowing why I was doing it. And then I had to stand in the corner. For what seemed like forever. Fidgeting... shifting from one foot to the other... waiting... thinking... feeling miserable... and then the soap making my throat even more sore... trying not to cough... trying not to swallow... then it was over... .I could rinse my mouth. Forgiven... could I forgive myself?
Then talking... gradually getting back to normal... I hate that my voice changes... I can hear it... the little girl quiet voice of a girl in trouble. Slowly getting my own voice back. More talking... I can't believe he has really forgiven me... but he has... why am I tougher on myself than others are?
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