Sometimes You Just Need A Really Good F-ck
I understand why some people cut themselves. They need to feel alive. It’s a weird feeling to be awake and yet feel asleep. To realize that life is moving so fast around you but for some reason you’re not moving with it. You’re just watching…wishing to catch up. Some people pick fights. If someone sucka punches them, curses them out, they feel like they exist in the world. Just recognize me. See me. Even if you hurt me, I don’t care.
The other night I was feeling this disconnection with myself that I had never recognized before. I just didn’t know how to come back to me. One of my kids was asking me if she could watch a movie and her mouth was moving in slow motion while I watched from two blocks away and around the corner. I felt horrible because I didn’t care. In that moment she could do whatever she wanted because life was meaningless. Hers. Mine. All of it.
My husband and I had been going through it once again on the verge of breaking up for the umpteenth time. Who knows, maybe all my issues stemmed from that or perhaps that was another side effect of me being disconnected. If you can’t connect to yourself how can you connect to your partner, right?
It had been a rough couple of days of barely talking to each other, so I was telling my best friend that it was really over this time.
“No way!” she tried her best to assure me. “You two have something really special. Y’all don’t have real problems.” Then she proceeded to tell me that she and her husband hadn’t had sex in ten years.
“F- outta here, what do you mean?!” I asked her. This from the girl who would lecture me about never going to bed angry. To think that I thought something was wrong with my marriage because we couldn’t patch things up after a spat in the name of having a good night’s sleep. Not to mention the fact that after 25 years of friendship I happen to know that this girl loves the ‘D.’
She explained that she had a sense not long after they got married that she had married her best friend, so they decided to take time off from sex to see what was what. Ironically, as more and more time went by they became best friends. So I guess you could say that she was right. Currently, they’re living apart and she’s telling me that she’s having fantasies of screwing Michael Jackson. She’s right, we don’t have real problems.
Later that night, in an unexpected change of events, Bae came home from work and wrapped his arms around me. Before I knew what was happening he was banging the lights out of me, digging a hole straight through me, “tell’em Papa hit it and split it in two.”
Honestly, sometimes women just want to be f-cked like a b-tch, taken to the edge of pleasure and pain so we can feel alive. So we can know that we exist. So that we can feel our humanity.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not condoning rape or sexually brutalizing women, nor am I saying that there’s no space for tenderness, yadda, yadda, yadda. But if I may reflect back on my bestie, could the fact that she hasn’t had her world rocked in 10 years have a little something to do with her fantasies, not to mention the demise of her marriage? Did she stop existing when the sexual part of her died?
My husband and I worked it til the sun came up and guess what? By morning I was back in my body. Ready to face the day. There is no bigger connector than sex and I realized divorce wasn’t the answer. I just needed some really good d-ck.