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They’re all useless and uncaring.”“Can you tell me what happened, my love?”I took a deep breath.This was hard for me to talk about, especially with him.Especially with him caressing me like that, like I was so precious.I removed his hands from my body and I stepped away from him.James didn’t seem to mind, because I just needed a little bit of distance, that was all. Because as much as I craved his comforting touches, I couldn’t help but feel a little dirtied every time I mentioned this.“I went to report that pervert,” I said, hating how low my voice was.The shame of having been taken advantage of was why I had kept this a secret for as long as I had. That was until a similar meltdown got me under his radar and I had to spill the beans. James had since kept insisting that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but I couldn’t help it, it felt wrong for another man to touch me, especially when I belonged to my husband.“Who, the subway guy?”“Yeah.”“Go on.”James’ posture changed. The boy or girl whose clumsy teenage games frustrated his futile attempts to fulfill his most consuming self-manipulation. His potential partner in sexual exploration sending confused signals which sapped his manhood and send him searching for a perverted potency in the form of a powerful sadist. A deceitful partner is what he now craves, and an easy mark is what he has become. His sexual identity forever defined by childish misunderstandings. I'm his sweetheart, his coach, and his most loved antagonist. His emotional exhibitionism is his gift to me which I will only mock in return. His open-hearted desire for the partner that can never exist will be understood, encouraged, and almost delivered in a perpetually just-out-of-reach future by his most trusted enemy.I can see his pain and feel his suffering. It is a great fire that will consume him that I must quell it with gasoline. I see his soul, because he has given it to me along with the instructions to its incarnation. I know why.
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