Thirty years ago today
She
had herself all zipped up and alone in her sleeping bag by the time I came to
bed beside her. She was protecting herself so I wouldn’t touch her as I’d done
the night before. I aimed at a less solid barrier and steered the conversation
towards sex. I asked her how I’d touched her compared with the way she imagined
sex to be. She said she’d expected it to be more violent. I told her that it
could be but that I was afraid of pushing her even deeper inside of herself
than she already was.
I
wondered if what she needed after all was for me to be more aggressive than I
had been. Perhaps her holding back was a perversion of the peacock syndrome.
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