Sex? No

Sex? No.

Image Worshiper series #2

“Woman driver.” “Just like a Man.” That’s a teen for you.” Without knowing the individual to whom these snap judgments refer, a host of behaviors crystallize. Frequently these generalizations are negative or worse don’t apply. A complex being is reduced to a simplified image, an experience with which Joseph, in my novel, Baggage burdens. endured.

According to Jill, her husband, Joseph, is a man, but not just an ordinary man. Jill’s image of a man grew out of her father’s behavior. He controlled his wife, his money, and his two daughters. That control turned dangerous when he came home from work after a few hours in the bar. Then he was loud and frequently violent.

Jill married Joseph because he wasn’t like her father. Joseph didn’t consume alcohol. Also he didn’t have a beard or smoke like her father. She explained she cringed when a person raised their voice, or moved and unexpectedly touched her. For the most part Joseph respected her wishes. He kept his hands to himself and never yelled. But in Jill’s mind Joseph was still a man. And men were like her father. And he would never have control over her.

Jill also knew once Joseph’s hands experienced the joy of her body he wouldn’t stop. He’d seek her like a hungry wolf. That impulse she’d control.

However, Jill looked forward to being a mother. That meant making a baby, an activity she enjoyed. But once she knew she was pregnant, there’d be no more sex. Not only “no sex” until the birth, but for months after. She often stretched the months to a minimum of two years. One excuse she used was that carrying the baby and nursing drained her. Jill succeeded in limiting Joseph’s sexual appetite, although it wasn’t always easy.

Shortly after their wedding Jill realized that the shy quiet man she married had a dormant insatiable sexual appetite. She found his persistent efforts unexpected and overwhelming. Because of the cold and snow, housebound Joseph stole every moment he could to catch her in the bedroom or call her over to the love seat by the fireplace so he could enjoy her body. His cheerful pursuit, while flattering at first, became annoying.

A few times while she washed dishes, he would trap her at the sink. She was the dish he wanted to dry. Both hands worked all over her. Once she deliberately dropped a dinner plate saying he distracted her. Cleaning the mess broke his amorous mood. She thought Joseph took her ducking his advances as a game, a matching of wits. When he won, she was his prize.

‘I’m pregnant. Relief!’ Joseph’s desire not to disturb the birth of their child enabled Jill to reduce his amorous attention to her comfort level. After Daniel’s birth, she stretched her celibacy by claiming her body needed time to adjust. Later Jill employed strategies like Daniel’s feeding time or being first to rush off when he started to cry. Even pretending she heard Daniel cry worked for a while. 

“Jill, what’s wrong? Tell me. I’m your husband. Tell me what’s wrong.” Joseph tries to draw her to him, but she resists.

Crawling out of her past Jill stands confused. Dave is not before her. There is no Greg. But Joseph is standing before her and there’s blood running down the side of his face. ‘I must have hit him. And now he’s asking me what’s wrong. What did he do that’s wrong?’

Geared to blame Dave, to blame Greg, Jill stands silent. ‘Have I just wrongly blamed Joseph?’ The past violation refuses to leave. Her only solution is to blame Joseph, but for what? Then she knows, but hesitates.

Wrong. Wrong. The word shouts at Jill over and over until she concludes the only way to stop it was to spit out the parasite that has been gnawing at her since she lost Christine.

“Wrong! I’ll tell you what’s wrong! You! You’re wrong! You can’t keep you hands off me. You can’t leave me alone. If you would’ve left me alone last Christmas maybe later I would have been more able to carry our new baby. But no, you couldn’t wait. You can never wait.”

 “Well Miss Self Reliant. Letting your secrets slip out now are we.”  The accusing deep familiar male voice frightens Jill. Her hands shoot up to protect her chest as if someone stripped her nightgown away. A cold sweat clutches her. She shivers.  

The unwanted voice from her past challenges again.

“Don’t play innocent with me. You know very well what secrets. You finally revealed to Joseph that you blame him for the loss of Christine.” 

Jill mounts no defense. She knows she’s guilty of planning to unload the attack on Joseph when he became too clingy.

No sex. Ah-h-h. Have  heart!

After briefly greeting his children as they eat their oatmeal, Joseph follows Jill to the cupboard. From behind he rests his hands on her housecoat, then slides them to her hips.

“Great party last night,” says Joseph.

Jill agrees.

“Even better morning.” Joseph peeks around to see her face.

She flashes a smile.

“Should make that a yearly tradition.”

Silence greets his suggestion.

“Maybe even a monthly event.” Joseph brushes the hair from the side of her face and plants a quick kiss. Before she can comment, he takes his bowl of porridge to the table.

‘Oh no! He’s changed his mind about moving downstairs!’

Throughout the week the affectionate attention Joseph lavishes on her blinds him from seeing an occasional cringe spurred by his unexpected touches.

Intending to spark a reminder that it is time for Joseph to move to his downstairs bedroom, Jill purchases a bathroom lock for her bedroom door. She sets it on her dresser in plain sight thinking Joseph will ask her about it. He does Saturday morning. Jill explains. "It is to be put on when you move downstairs. Just in case you forget and come to the wrong room at night.”

haiku capsule

                                                                            man stereotyped

                                                         trapped in another’s image

lost personality

Next blog: Reflections: No sex! Are you kidding?