Licking Old Wounds

So this is a tough one...

I was looking through old emails and stumbled across this submission I made to Lick magazine (a brilliant little undertaking by a talented blogger in my circle, back in the glory days).

The premise was that you could send in anything you wanted, anonymously - contributions were limited to women, I think.

This confession breaks my heart for the girl I was then, although it only scratches the surface of the pain I lived with. I remember writing it and feeling wary of discovery. I worded it carefully so that I wouldn't hurt his feelings if he happened to read it. But distance and wisdom allow me to see that this is another way in which I just didn't stand up for myself and speak my No's loudly enough.


Date: Fri, 8 Apr 2005 15:01:49 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: Lick Magazine

Sometimes when we're making love, I hate you. I want to push you off, I want to cry. What can feel so incredible when I want it, feels like torture when I don't.

And you don't listen to me. I have told you what not to do. A thousand times, at least. But you still do those things because YOU like them. It makes me feel like a blow up doll, a life-sized sex toy, instead of the wife you say you love. I send very plain signals, but you choose to ignore them, because you can. You have been able to get away with pleading ignorance if I bring it up. But I know that you can tell the difference between the moans and screams of a woman in blissful torment and the hate filled sounds of one in pure torment.

I don't want to risk upsetting the delicate balance of our life, so I keep quiet. But please, for god's sake, if you're out there and somehow through cosmic intervention you get this message--pay attention to my eyes, my breathing and don't continue to be selfish by ignoring these signs. And know that I only hate you sometimes.