We Feed Off Of Each Other

Update 8/21/11  5:10 AM:  I might add–the Surgeon was leaner than he was the last time I saw him.  Definitely leaner.  I remarked on it after I’d unbuttoned his (very beautiful) shirt, removed it, and placed it, folded, on top of the dresser.  

      I ran my hands down his side, over his ribs and his hips.  My brow scrunched up.  “You look like you’ve lost weight.  You’re thinner.”  

    The Surgeon says: “FINALLY!  I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”  

       Oh Jesus

        *              *            *                    *               *          *  

     The Surgeon is at my house, and I am letting him do things to me that I seldom allow him to do these days.  Engaging in these behaviors is dangerous for me because they are intimate and personal, and because they are at the heart of my compulsions.  The Surgeon isn’t safe for me to share this piece of myself with.  It’s a very bad idea for several reasons: every time I do it, it binds me to him; it reinforces and re-affirms the compulsion itself; and finally, it’s just plain nuts to be emotionally vulnerable around a person like The Surgeon.  At best, you will be disappointed.  At worst, you will be mercilessly savaged.  

    But, but, but…but it’s been a long time, and I need it.  Or, I think that I need it.  It’s not the easiest desire to have fulfilled.  Not just anything can do it for me, unfortunately.  

    The Surgeon has always done a perfect job.  Always hits the mark.  Fucking always.  The man gets me fixed.

    Why?  I’ve had sex with the man a million times by now.  There is no reason why the sexual attraction should remain this intense.  Especially given my growing alienation from him.  

     There are a few explanations.  The attraction is obviously subconscious; irrational.  Our dysfunctions line up perfectly.  And while it pains me to admit this, I can identify with the man.  He has a lot of my bad or neurotic character traits, magnified to the Nth degree.  That is why I know him as intimately as I do and he does not frighten or repulse me.  How could I?  I understand him.  

       Now my hair is wrapped in his fist and I am physically pinned against the bed and the wall, and he is biting the hell out of my back.  He bites when he gets very excited, and we are not talking love bites here.  Bites that leave prints.  Bites that could be used to identify dentition.  

       When he’s not biting, he’s talking.  He’s using the opportunity to emphasize a few key points.

     “Sometimes it’s hard for you.  Sometimes, it won’t work out for you.”  FYI, he is referring to our relationship here.  “But, that is just the way it is.  That is the way it has to be.  That’s life!  It happens.  I happened to you.  I happened to your life, and that’s just the way that it is.”  

     And here it is, The Awful Truth.  This is it.  And it doesn’t matter that it is nonsense–absurd on its face; it doesn’t matter that it’s abusive and negligent; it doesn’t matter that it means an eternity of suffering for me.  

    “You will belong to me FOREVER!  I NEED YOU!  Don’t you know that?  We need each other.  We feed off of each other!”  

      For the Surgeon, this is a tremendous insight into himself and our relationship.  He has never expressed it with such clarity before.  

     And me?  Well, for the time being, I am off in Lala Land.  I’m getting fixed.  Obliterated.  

    Let’s backtrack a bit.  Remember this quote, that I blogged about a little while ago?

  She was very clearly a masochist, but speaking to psychoanalysts, they tell you that sadomasochism is always a circle, so the masochist is always looking for a sadist and will force people into that role, and even become the sadist themselves in order to form that circle. So I thought that was really interesting, the manipulation is strangely powerful. At the same time as she plays the victim, she’s creating these situations and manipulating them. 

     When all is said and done, I’ve kept the Surgeon in my life because he is perfect for me.  Many times, I’ve been hurt and confused because he wasn’t meeting my needs.  That is, in fact, the case.  However, like everyone, I have many needs, and some are more important than others.  The Surgeon has, in fact, met some of my needs very well.  Which needs, you ask?  Well, the need to be denied.  The need to be starved.  These are the needs I have given presidency, whether I was aware of it or not.  I’m aware of it now, and that is all that matters.  

       “You are the only woman in my life I’ve ever wanted to keep,” he tells me afterward, in all sincerity, as if he was giving me a great compliment.  I guess in his mind, it is.  

     Soooo…instead of being loved by a man, I have chosen to be the object of a narcissist’s obsession instead.  For little Margo, that’s as good as it gets!  What else could I ask for?  

     I gotta get rid of this guy.  Definitely.  That should be interesting!   

     But getting rid of him won’t be enough.  Because as long as the need remains, there will always be another Surgeon to fill it.  

     I have to fix myself.  

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