A DAY of FEARS and SHAME
I have spent most of my day reading about emotional abuse on the internet. I have to come to terms that this is an ongoing issue in my life. I couldn't get myself out of bed and dressed until the day had grown dark - after 7 pm. I stared out the window from time to time to watch the progress of the light outside my window. At around noon the sun was pushing through the clouds and reflecting off the beige clapboard panels of the house next door. I sensed the light breaking through before I rolled up the ricepaper shades and pushed aside the lace curtains. There was a call to life - Come out and enjoy the sun! And I ignored it.
I stayed inside all day until I dressed so I could return one of the space heaters that the next-door-neighbors loaned me. In the morning I had cancelled the appointment to have the furnace looked at in the afternoon, because I couldn't bring myself to deal with getting up out of bed, walking 2 miles to and fro to the bus-stop so I could take the bus to the bank to withdraw at least $200 and possibly be billed for more in addition to that should the problem be BIG. I reasoned the weather is getting warmer, and that the space heater is enough for my heating needs. I spend most of my time in my room anyway. The kitchen has the oven for heat. And for showers, I take the heater to the bathroom.
I said I was "homeless". In the strictest sense of the word - I have no solid, permanent home at this point. I left my last home, my shared apartment with my best friend Victorio, in the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan to live here temporarily until I found a more permanent situation in Seattle. "Here" is my mother's summer home in Bremerton, Washington State. She will return in May, and we do not live together well. Last summer when visiting for the summer, I left because ... can you believe it ... because I wanted to pursue my "involvement" with Y. My mother didn't like the fact of us fucking in her house.
And if I had kept to her desires, this obsession with a cruel man, and my own willful participation in self-destructive "love" on my part, not his ... would have never have happened. Case in point - yesterday - Sunday. When I welcomed Y for "fucking" into my mother's home after a series of abusive behaviors on his part last week.
Tuesday night on the phone - I shared my excitement about my day's successful private session with my new Seattle flamenco instructor Rubina Carmona, especially concerning her invitation to join her Amateur Flamenco company - pronounce La Penyah with Y. His response was - But you SUCK at performing, don't you?
I said - Why did you say that?
He replied - Well when I asked you to show me how you dance, you just showed me some lame-ass move.
At that point, I sighed and said - Oh, my God, I can't talk to you. Fuck you.
And then I hung up and then the anger of his betrayal and his attempt at crushing my confidence in the ONE thing that has kept me struggling to keep on living the six years since I left my husband - flamenco dance ...just welled up in me and I called him back. I heard his voice barely and then just started shouting into the phone at him - "Fuck you for making fun of something that means so much to me!" "Fuck you for being so insensitive!" And then I hung up. I sent him several angry text messages telling him I wouldn't talk to him any sooner than later that week.
Later that week came-
And I figured that he was punished. Why I figured this, I don't know, because he didn't make any attempt to apologize. No mention was made concerning his hurtful comments or my rage. It was if nothing had happened.
I left a message for him on his phone on Thursday afternoon, and we spoke on Friday. Much of Friday we wrangled on the phone because I was trying to get some emotional support for two hurtful situations. And when I expressed my upset feelings he felt blamed and got defensive and hostile.
From Wednesday afternoon through Friday morning I had been participating in a paid Medical study at N.W. Kinetics in Tacoma, Washington. It was a gruelling stay - the study involved 20 needle poke draws of blood within less than 16 hours. At one point we were having our blood drawn every five minutes. The inner crease of my elbows and inner arms were black and blue form all the blood draws. The side effects of Leukine, the drug being tested, caused me to have excruciating burning/aching pains in my pelvic region for over an hour - but then I didn't know it would only be an hour. I didn't know how long the waves of pain would last. And the woman next to me who went from smiley and complacent to writhing and moaning and barely communicative in a matter of minutes after the administration of the drug, was scaring me. Would my contractions, trembling and aching increase to her level as well? Needless to say - I was looking forward to returning to my Bremerton abode.
What greeted me there was a non-working furnace, and after making a few phonecalls I discovered that it could not be fixed without a monstrous monetary outlay that weekend - $150 the first fifteen minutes and $20 per 15 minutes following, or I could delay it till Monday with $87 the first 15 and $20 per 15 following. At that point I had no way of contacting my mother and no electric heaters.
That was situation number 1.
Situation number 2 was finding out that the friends that I thought I had in Seattle, with whom I had envisioned living with as happily as I had this past summer ... these same friends had advertised the very same room I had been living in that summer for 3 days straight on Craigslist without notifying me. I had spent lovely summer moments with both Leo and Julie taking daytrips, cooking, playing board games, doing house errands and chores, talking and laughing ... The following fall and winter months in Manhattan I mourned the lack of community in my life ... the community I had felt in the "House of Dreams."
Y told me that the reason that Julie probably didn't want me to live in her house was that I complained about her African Grey Parrot Charlie SCREECHING and that when I visited the house on Thanksgiving - she may have felt used when I had invited him to visit and in addition to working on his paper, we ended up having sex on the couch in the living room. When he told me these things - I started to bemoan that I was a terrible person ... and then he got angry at me. To be sure I wasn't taking what he was saying well, but at the same time I wasn't telling him he was a jerk for saying such and so. Anyway ... the overall conversation on the phone was mixed. I felt better after talking to him, but dismayed at his complicated responses to my emotions.
Saturday - I returned to Tacoma for an outpatient visit - which means a 3 hour commute from Bremerton - the half hour walk to the bus, the half hour bus to the Ferry, the hour long Ferry to Seattle and then the hour long bus ride to Tacoma and then the local bus to the clinic. Later that afternoon I scheduled a visit to a communal house - "Bob" the house, in the University District to check on a room. I had considered going to Rubina Carmona's performance at the Solstice Cafe, but knew that I had a two hour walk home once I arrived in Bremerton, and didn't know if I would have the energy to do this around midnight. Earlier Y was calling me and would say - Sooo ... do you want to fuck?
I have to say - I set that train in motion because I had texted him in the morning - Buenos Dias, tu quiero su cuerpo. Maybe we can f.... later?
But by the end of the day, I told him - that I was heading home, that I was too tired to wait for him to get out of work and besides we didn't have enough time to get together. I was on the bus heading back to the ferry so I was trying to be lowkey on the phone.
Y - "Time? Time? How much time do you need to get together. Fifteen minutes? Twenty minutes?"
Me - "I am not your whore." (Saying this in context to his opening comment - Do you want to fuck?
Y - "Did I call you a whore? How did I call you a whore? Tell me I want to know!"
Me - You said it by implication that all we needed was 15 or 20 minutes to get together.
Y- You mean if I say to a friend - how about we get together for 15 minutes - I am calling them a whore?
Me - That's not what I meant. (What I wanted to say was that I wasn't going to get together for a small chat and then fuck and then take the ferry home. But I couldn't bring myself to say this on the bus in public.)
Y- (Who was working at the time called out to a friend/co-worker while laughing out loud) Hey Erin! Do you feel like a whore if I ask you to hang out with me for 15 minutes?"
At that point I hung up on him. Here he was humiliating me in front of one of his best friends. I couldn't take talking to him any longer. I sent him a text message that I wouldn't hang out for two hours with nothing to do JUST to hang out with for 15 minutes, fuck and then go home. (Because he has always refused to be my boyfriend, and only wants to be a "fuckbuddy" or "friend" - I added a nasty comment that I wouldn't make that sacrifice for the "love of my life" let alone him.)
I took the bus back to the ferry. Once on the ferry I tried to forget the unpleasant conversation by reading a script that I had saved on my computer - "I married an Axe Murderer." At halfway point, I grew tired of reading about the travails of yet another commitment-phobic male and decided to take a nap to prepare for my 2 hour walk home.
Walking home, I felt numb, wondering why in the world I had chosen to move to the Seattle area. My backpack, which held my mammoth agenda and my laptop was cutting deep into my shoulders. The air was damp and chilly. Cars drove past me in the darkness and I walked and walked. About a half hour into my walk Y calls and asks me - Do you want to Fuck?
I told him - No, I don't want to Fuck.
Y - What if I told you that I was about to get on the Ferry to Bremerton?
Me - I would say that you are a liar. ( He told me that he didn't get out of work until 8, and he was calling me at 10 after. He liked to mess with my mind.)
Y - Well, then I guess I will have to turn back and show you my ticket next time.
Me - I still don't believe you and No, I don't want to fuck.
Y - Well, I guess I will go then.
And that was that. I knew that there was no point in explaining to him that I had almost two more hours to walk home, or that the house was a mess because I had been sleeping in the kitchen to keep warm, or that I felt turned off by his crude and insensitive approach to me.
Sunday - I let all that go ... and texted him that I wanted to "f..." ... back on the train of abuse. So he came over. And we had this hot-wild fierce sex. He was calling me "whore-bitch" while I rocked on top of him and I called him "asshole" while gripping at his face, stretching the skin of his cheek. At points he would shove my neck to the side roughly so that he could bite at my neck or suck my ears or have a full view of me pumping on his lap as he watched me in the mirror. He came groaning - Fuck! and writhing under me.
It was 20 minutes that he started to worry about catching the Ferry in time. I had told him earlier that I wanted to cook him dinner, and that I needed him to drive me to get groceries since the closest grocery store was over a mile away. He was amenable to this earlier, but then suddenly he was telling me had a study appointment with Erin which demanded that he leave in about an hour at least.
I couldn't believe that "EXACTLY" what I didn't want - for him to come over and "FUCK and RUN" was happening. There we were skin to warm skin ... which felt so beautiful to me ... and he was telling me he had to study, blah, blah. I simply said in my softest voice - "Why did you bother to come at all, when you have to leave so soon?" To this he jumped out of bed and started dressing - responding as if I was throwing him out. All I wanted to understand was - why didn't he just do his homework, which he told me earlier was minimal, earlier so he didn't have to rush off.
But the fact was - he wanted to fuck and go, he didn't want to hang out with me. Had he wanted to hang out with me, he would have planned his time differently. But instead he used my question as an excuse to leave me alone in a cold house, without groceries, half naked pleading with him to stay.
For the love of me and of God ... that should be the LAST time ... and I am writing this now ... trying to be as honest about how I behaved and he behaved.