Incest Interlude
2002-05-31 @ 3:27 a.m.
�
This Interlude brought to you by Shoot the Bastard productions.
Here is a reason Badsnake can't think about my father without wanting to get a gun.
It's about 3 a.m. and I woke up feeling anxiety like I'd somehow done something wrong - to Jake specifically. It's not the first time I've done this, but it may be the first time I've recognized so quickly just what was going on. I've woken up before after a particularly fun evening to feel like I'd done something embarrassing or like I'd asked too much of someone. Always before I've lain awake going through in my head every minute of the evening to figure out what I'd done wrong, worrying about each moment, each action. This morning I was able to simple get out of bed, knowing I wasn't going back to sleep right away, and think "here it goes again."
Jake and I had a wonderful time on our date. She took me to dinner at a place we've talked about going for a long time. It's a place neither of us had been but we were both interested in. The restaurant was the definition of trendy,but the food was good, and Jake and I had fun together. Then she took me for ice cream, stopping on the way at the queer bookstore (twice in a week?!) where we got a book on flogging and another copy of The Ethical Slut ( a family can never have too many copies). After ice cream we had decided to go to a fabulously sleezy dive of a dyke bar. (I don't know if she'd planned this all along as a surprise or just thought of it at the last minute as the perfect way to round off the evening - did I mention I was wearing the shortest mini-skirt I've ever worn in my long life. I know there's a word for a forty-five year old woman dressed up like a tart. Whatever it is, I'll wear it proudly.) Unfortunately the bar was closed, so we went home to play out our whoring fantasy instead. A good time was had by all.
So why do I wake up wanting to rush next door and apologize? Sara pointed out to me earlier this week, and in a different context, that I was taught very young not to trust my own instincts. From the time I was ten years old there must have been a voice in my head telling me something was very wrong in my home. But instead of believing that my father, a respected minister, was the evil abuser of his own daughter, I had to suppress that feeling. I had to ignore the internal instinct that told me I wasn't safe and respect the man that everyone else in the community thought was a pillar of faith and family love. I had to believe that if he didn't give me what I thought I needed, it was either because I didn't deserve it or because he knew better.
Even today, at 3 o'clock in the morning, I still sometimes can't trust the good things that happen to me. Too much good stuff means I have done something wrong because god knows I don't deserve this much good.
Being awake at 3 a.m. doesn't always mean anxiety, but it is the best time for it to strike. Last night I was awake from 4 to 5 :30, but I read and wrote in my paper journal and even enjoyed the extra time. And I hate to make today's first entry so depressing because I had such a fabulous time last night. Once again I am reminded how lucky I am to have landed in such a loving, safe place that I can recognize false anxiety attacks for what they are. And how lucky I am to go on dates at 45 years old that include root beer float ice cream cones and side trips for porn with one of the two hottest butches in the hemisphere.
By the time my grandmother was the age I am now she had two grandchildren. Maybe she had as much fun as I do, but I can't imagine it (refuse to imagine it). I'll go back to bed soon and snuggle up to the wonderful woman who was at home entertaining herself and the dog tonight while I was out with my other girlfriend.
�
Selling vulva vases! - 8:25 p.m. , 2005-05-13 Dapper dicks - 8:21 p.m. , 2005-05-09 A breezy night in Georgia - 9:12 p.m. , 2005-04-28 Things that go bump in the night - 12:46 p.m. , 2005-04-26 Evil-doer, you face the Tick! - 3:31 p.m. , 2005-04-15