A woman once said to me, “A man who screws a woman honors her.” She went on to say she plays hard to get with the man she loves, but will easily give it to a stranger. She kisses the man she loves, never the man with whom she chooses to partake in coitus. She loves her boyfriend, but he frustrates her to no end. He isn’t like many of us. He doesn’t experience the hunger at the same level many of us do.
This woman once said to me, “Men conquer. I need to be conquered.” And yet, at times she revels in role reversal, especially with her boyfriend. She initiates every time. She caresses him in ways far too delicate to mention, all in the hopes of awakening a hunger he doesn’t have. He loves her, but he’s disgusted by her modern, forward-thinking ways. She hollows herself out to him. She wants to be degraded before him. It’s the only time she can feel.
This woman once said to me, “There is nothing more satisfying than humiliation.” And so, when her boyfriend is dancing with his best friend at The Gay Bar, she goes to see her boss, the principal at the school where she teaches. He ties her up, strips her naked, and violates her until her tears show sincerity. And she tells me, she’s known no greater love.
I know what you’re thinking — “Why doesn’t she just leave her boyfriend?” And the answer is, she loves him to death. Such is life. Such is love. This woman once told me, “Physical love is triviality combined with the divine.” This is why she initiates with her boyfriend. The physical aspect of love means nothing to her, even if her body craves it as much as with anyone. “Beauty feeds on degradation. The story of ‘Beauty and the Beast’ is nothing more than nature disguised as prose.”
She tells me she’s jealous of all men. This woman once told me, “Put ten men in a room, cut off their cocks, and put them in a bucket. The men will have a hard time figuring out who’s belongs to whom. But with women, it’s different. Each vagina is like a face, different. I wish we were like the ancient Japanese gods of forgotten lore, whose faces and genitals were switched. I wish my face were my vagina. Men have all the selection in the world.” To this, I couldn’t respond, much less formulate a thought.
“Let it be said, ” she once said to me, “that love between a man and woman is impossible; it’s a devious conflict.”
I replied, “Women are the victims men need for atonement. You suffer for our sins. Such is life. Such is love. Such are we. Purity through obscenity.”
When last I saw her, many moons ago, we crossed each other on the sidewalk. She was in a…gravid state, very much so. And she was walking with the Principal. If she saw me, if she recognized me, she gave no clue.