11:25 p.m. - July 10, 2002
After the left, a downturn
I can talk with him for hours walking aimlessly along beaches or hikes in the mountains yet sometimes think he's dull.
I saw women hit by their mates and now understand why they stay. In his anger he left bruises on my arms--bad ones, puke yellow and green and black--and punches to my face--and I thought it was my fault for driving him to it.
He wakes up with me every night we sleep together to cuddle and let me know I'm not alone, that he's there and will stay awake so I can sleep. He can be gentle, other times rough and callous.
He's been patient with me since the beginning and I feel obligated to him, obligated to please him by becoming less uptight. I'm "not normal." He's the standard and I fall short, since teaching isn't a real job, unlike his.
We see a fairly large little girl walking towards us and he whispers about how she should be eating corn flakes instead of those corn muffins with that twinkle in his eyes and I sit there thinking I don't know this guy. I don't know him at all.
I don't know what's wrong with me and I've prayed to God about it a thousand times over and have received no direction. Out of fear and disgust I pushed him away and when it begins to feel right so many warning signals go off but I'm oblivious. I see them, recognize them, but ignore them. Half an hour after we left he had backhanded me and left me with a literal fat lip. In West Virginia we fought in the car, first yelling and then punching to communicate and when that wasn't successful pulling over and fighting with fists and he cried out of frustration and I was cold and sneered.
I drove him to it and because he is better built, I paid for it but as backward as it seems, I felt alive throughout, that finally something inside clicked and I felt passion for something rather than the usual disconnection.
I don't know how to write about this. I'm embarrassed and awkward but here goes. He wanted it, I didn't. He's stronger than me and can do as he wishes. I had a full-blown anxiety attack and stopped breathing, then passed out. He yelled at me and I was confused and felt that basic, raw fear when I opened my eyes and kicked him out of me and I was horrified and disgusted and ashamed and turned over, wanting to leave but afraid to stand up. He cuddled with me, said he was sorry and then I felt guilty, me, and let him cum in my mouth. I swallowed when he told me to. I don't know what's wrong with me and I have no one to talk to about this even if I could.
How am I to be gay if I can't have decent sex with another guy? How am I to be bi or straight if during sex I think about what I'm not supposed to?
I don't feel like writing any more.
