I neglected to mention something that happened, Friday night. We went to bed around 10:30, because Adam had to work Saturday morning. As we were brushing our teeth, Adam said something to me. I can’t remember what. I wasn’t seriously angry. I replied, “you can fuck right off.” Adam reached over, and smacked my ass. For some reason, I decided to continue to challenge him. I repeated, “fuck off.” Again, smack. This back and forth continued, several more times. I finally had to give in, when I recognized that I was never going to win this one.
I woke up, during the night, with a very sore behind. Even while we sat at the table, on Saturday night, playing games, I couldn’t stay comfortable. Adam ended up bringing me a pillow to sit on. While we were in the shower, on Sunday, he spun me around, so he could see what my butt looked like. There are marks leftover. I turned back around, and told him to “stop admiring his work.” I was also soooo sore, from the “rage room” the previous day. Adam pulled me into his arms. He insisted, he does not enjoy giving me a sore behind. He told me, he doesn’t feel sorry for spanking me, but he feels sorry that he had to do it. He says he will not let me talk to him like that. I guess he means it.
I grew up watching my mother treat my dad like an accessory. I saw her control his entire world, easily. I know how easy it can be, to manipulate a man who genuinely loves you. That’s a dance, most all women learn to perform. I don’t actually want to be able to do it, though. I find indescribable comfort in knowing that Adam will not, in fact, fall for my bullshit. I never intend to be malicious. It’s almost an unconscious thing. I am well aware that I wield a significant amount of power, in our relationship. Adam would do just about anything, if I asked him in the right way. I honestly believe love is a dangerous game for a man to play with a woman. I have to possess a fairly significant amount of trust, in my husband. I have to always know, without a doubt, that he will never harm me. His strong hands could literally squeeze the life from me in seconds. He won’t do that, though. In that same sense, Adam must have an equally significant trust, in me, because I could drain the life from him, too. Maybe not with my hands, but with my choices in words, my attitude, my tone of voice. His “evil”, would land him in handcuffs. My “evil” would either leave him trapped in a miserable marriage, or divorced. Spending every other weekend with his children, while I live off of alimony and child support, in the house he’s still paying for. I think we all know that somewhere inside of us, there’s a certain amount of “evil”, which we are vaguely aware of, but also know we must contain, lest we end up alone and unloved. Maybe it’s wiser to make sure we’re acquainted with the evil that resides inside us? Maybe that’s what love is? Calling out each other, when their “evil” is showing.