I was writing a blog post that I was enjoying quite a bit, but unfortunately, it’s going to have to wait. Right now I’m much too upset to finish it.
The Surgeon pulled quite a stunt late this afternoon. My feelings are hurt, but at least I’m not surprised. I know what he is. I knew it from the day we met.
That’s the tricky thing about being with sadomasochists, you know–you have to vet them very carefully, find ones who can compartmentalize it, who can express that part of themselves in specific, controlled, isolated situations. In my opinion, these individuals are the most self-aware sadomasochists, and the least conflicted.
The Surgeon does not fit this description. He is a sadist for real, the real deal. It’s easy to forget that –after all, he can be very genial, and he is not without charm–but you forget it at your peril. Take my word for it.
Tomorrow–or Wednesday at the latest–I have two options: fake it and make nice (lie and degrade myself), or tell him NO.
I’m leaning towards no.
It’s not going to be pretty.