Once upon a time, there was Ms Apple and The Boy. They met, and were best friends for many years. They started dating. Ms Apple moved away. They stopped dating. Ms Apple moved back. They resumed dating.
Their relationship was deliciously twisted and physically compelling.
But.
The Boy had suffered a sexual/emotional mauling. He'd been saving himself for marriage, as all good Catholic boys are taught to do, made the command decision to "gift" his virginity to the woman he thought he would marry (all previous to his pairing with the lovely Ms Apple). The gift was presented, tragically, during a period of time whe she was accepting a similar gift from another acquaintance of The Boy.
The acquaintance informed The Boy that it was Boy's sexual inadequacies that drove the young lady out of his own arms.
The Boy also had something of a porn addiction. Unknown to Ms Apple.
So The Boy was, shall we say, a bit hung up about sex being "bad." And about being bad at sex. Combine that with a noggin stuffed full of images of women who earn their living by appearing as though they crave fucking like a fish craves water.
Stir with an obsession with managing outward appearances.
The Boy and Ms Apple decided to marry, as foolish young people are wont to do.
Several months before the wedding, The Boy approached Ms Apple with a proposition. Because he wanted to enter into marriage in a sinless state of grace, they would stop engaging in one another's tasty physical delights until such time as they were One Under God.
Ms Apple was shaken to the core. How do you argue against religious conviction? How do you reconcile beauty being rewritten as disfiguring all in an instant? How do you overcome the feeling that you are the "bad" one, the "impure" one, the one in denial of her need of redemption?
You don't.
You weep. You mourn. You doubt.
And then, you get married. And when The Boy comes to you on your wedding night, panting for your wet pussy, you get deeply, viscerally angry.
At least, that's what you do if you're Ms Apple.
Thus begins a marriage.
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2 comments:
Not into self-denial at all are you?
Anticipation?
This is a lovely synopsis of you and The Boy (choosing that name for him...there's something to that). He got burnt bad and hadn't exactly found a way to deal with that. Been there, done that. Made up for lost time.
You give his issues a pretty fair treatment.
What about yours? I mean it sounds to me like you carried a very massive axe that needed grinding into your wedding night and let him have it, venting your considerable malice, guilt and shame.
I've heard of other folks who decide to try to be chaste in the months leading up to their wedding for similar reasons. There's more to it.
wow. It really does sound like a really bad start, tho. I'm thinking what little confidence The Boy was building up until that point was pretty much torched right there.
So how long have you both been suffering in this marriage?
Where are you at on the religious thing? It sounds like you don't share his conviction.
D.
Digger --
Venting on the wedding night? Nonononono. Venting of emotions is Not Acceptable, and therefore, completely ineffective.
It was our wedding night. I had considerable hope for our marriage. I had not done NEARLY enough soul-searching at that point to realize how fucked-up our relationship was in danger of becoming over the whole issue.
I put on a happy face and banged my husband that night, and again the next morning. From what he's told me, he had no idea how much I'd been upset by the decision.
And THAT is a good jumping off point for a discussion of MY issues.
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