Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
HER’S AND HIS RESISTANCE
Men seem to be hard wired to resist falling in love; women sex. Actually it’s not hard wired – it’s soft wired. From the first romance, the advice is: “be mean keep them keen”. She is soft wired to resist his sexual advances until he has securely committed her to her. She doesn’t want to be a whore or God’s police. She really just wants connection – pretty much as he does. But navigating that line – keeping her dignity and her power means she ends up in a place of sexual resistance.
Never is this worse than when she finishes having children. Never is the power dynamic within the couple struggling more than when that sexual urge, tied up in creating those little people has been hung up for good. They are so time poor. That nurturing energy as part of her sexual strategy to lure him in the first place is now exhausted. Spread in 5 million little directions. She doesn’t remember who she is. He is looking to connect. Yes he loves his children. But where is the woman he fell in love with? … and the kids are beautiful. But is this how life will be from now on? The guy who has just left his wife of 15 years is really looking great. Maybe I will just have a beer with him. Life shouldn’t be this f’ing hard.
Why doesn’t he know to help me more. Why do I have to point out that picking up his jocks is just not fair. Why can’t he see it without being reminded. More reminders that the garbage, dishwasher, floors, car, the f’in pool that I didn’t even want .. all need attention.
And sex – what ?! When all I crave is to put my feet up for 15 minutes – how on earth can he say it’s my turn to initiate sex. Initiate sex – is he kidding? He’s a great guy. I don’t want to be unfaithful. Nothing makes me happier than seeing him play with the kids. It all seems so effortless to him. I don’t know how he seems to know how to be a dad when I am struggling with motherhood. He plays with them. They laugh like this is the best moment of their life. They are just so happy. I’m not envious – it’s so great it gets me through all this soup of my daily life. Some days its soup another day it treacle and then its mud, really sticky, impenetrable. I can’t move. They’re so beautiful I should be grateful…
Oh yes. I was thinking about my complete lack of desire for sex. Well come on – if you’re struggling to get through mud you’re not going to look at the person beside you and say – OMG you are so gorgeous. Let’s drop everything right here and now and just do it. That’s completely reasonable right. I am a good person. The very notion of initiating sex without it being a favour to him is just frankly ridiculous. Laughable ..
But that’s what he wants. Should I just fake it? I always said I would never fake an orgasm.. I am almost religiously opposed to doing that. It is wrong at so many levels. I believe in honesty between us.
How’s your day been? Look if I didn’t feel so damned guilty for being here… Yeah – just before dinner time is hell at home. The tension is like a high wire act but like I’ve been let loose in the funny farm at the same time. I know it’s kind of evasive but being here will make the night easier. One pot for me, what are you drinking. Life’s good with me – I’ll have a pint thanks.
This pre-dinner phase is so hard. I was never raised to cook and keep house. My father raised me to be an independent woman though having a family was a solid expectation.
Her culture has emphasised women are reproductive, men are sexual. It’s not what her body told her. But her body only really remained faithful to her sexuality when she was hot for children – with this man. Fuelled by the hormonal milieu of desire, with no inhibitory contraceptive hormones, she caressed him in ways destined to fuel his desire and ensure their intercourse.
His dilemma is different. From infancy his role is not be a sissie. It is critical to his masculinity and the family that he gets this line right. Yes he can help at home but not being anything that resembles a girl is more than a birthright. It is a responsibility. Sexual imagery, everything he ever learnt about sex taught him its importance and his job involved pursuit. In the game of cat and mouse he was not the mouse. She never seemed to be the mouse either. And now with the clash of culture and end of the happy union of her sexuality and reproductive urges a new way forward is required..
Just one more beer…
******
Emotional vandalism, the icon and the lion.
Once upon a time there was a woman so beautiful that people would stay away. Not just men though surely they avoided her. But children and women, old people, foreigners, locals. She was confident that she lived well. She knew they stayed away, she knew it affected her parents’ social life. But she was right.
She flowed around their large property. It was of farm like proportions. But it too was an icon of beauty. Every day she would rise early, just beating the sun out of bed. She would stretch languidly as her perfect feet hit the alabaster floor. She would gently approach her balcony and then rest her eyes gently open as the sun drifted up into her world.
One day as she joined the open window at her balcony, a lion cub moved into the corner or at least it seemed to be a lion cub. The peacocks and lorikeets stayed in their perfect trees looking down at the interloper, poised but interested.
Because of that she knew life would never be as she had imagined. The daily joy of her meditation in the gardens, watching dragon flies on the water, sipping iced limey tea.
And because of that she knew her life would be richer beyond measure. Her parents in preparing her for life had ensured she was a figure to behold. But they had not provided the substrate for friendship. The lion cub as it approached the 100 step alabaster staircase showed no reserve. Just an interest and curiosity. Until finally it approached her as she met his stare at the top step. She had never touched an animal before. Never been touched. Her breath sucked in involuntarily. How was her life going to be from now on with this burst of emotional vandalism she was now confronting. Did this cub, this gentle creature with so much dangerous potential have the right to just appear in her world like this and disturb it so. Could her perfection continue its trajectory or was her life over?