See, and here - right here, this - was the essence of what confused the hell out of me about Peter. Without thinking about it, we just kind of fell in together. All these physical forms of intimacy that seemed to mean nothing and yet were part of the reason I felt so secure and at home with him. A touch, the way our eyes met and I knew what he was trying to say, the way he would reach for me or I would reach for him. He responded, and most days I didn't feel awkward or out of place or like an outsider.
And yet he apparently wasn't attracted to me at all. None of the touches on his part appeared to be leading anywhere. Very rarely had I felt this degree of comfort with a person, to feel secure that I could reach out and they would reach back. And it had never happened with someone who didn't want to sleep with me. I had no context for what Peter and I were doing. The only conclusion I had for the touches was sex, and Peter didn't want that. Not with me.
He claimed there were feelings, there. But I could only quantify emotions by the actions they generated. Things like this, like what we were now, I understood them on a basic level. He wants me so he holds me, he enjoys me so he sleeps with me. I matter to him, so he kisses me. I hold his attention, so he is attracted to me. My relationships had failed because I hadn't been enough, I had stopped being an object of desire.
But if I had never started with Peter, then how was I supposed to keep him?
I had tilted my head slightly to rest my temple against Peter's, lost in my own thoughts. I came back when I felt a sudden tension in his body and I blinked, lost. Oh, crap.
Rewinding the conversation in my head, I picked up the last thing I'd heard. "Why tape it?" I asked Claire.
"Well," Claire considered the question, biting absently at her thumbnail. "At first it was for my family. My real family. I wanted to show them what I was, thinking that they could, I don't know, explain me or something. But then it became for me. Like, so I wouldn't forget, no matter what." She paused, then evidently decided that Peter and I could be let in to some thought. "There's this guy who works for my dad. Or, he did. Anyway, he can take your memories. Make you forget. One day, everyone in my life had just...forgotten stuff. Except me. He told me I'd need my memories. And I had to pretend and..." Claire trailed off, the frustration of that still evident in her face. "Anyway, I wanted to always have a way so that they couldn't take at least that from me, you know?"
That was...a lot. I sorted through in my mind, making a logical list of...
Oh, who was I kidding? "Your real family?" I blurted out. "I thought Nathan was your dad."
"He is. My bio-dad," she grimaced slightly. "I was raised by my adopted parents. I didn't think they would understand who I was. Turns out, my dad understood probably better than anyone."
Wow, that was a whole lotta family for one person. I didn't have any, not anymore. I couldn't imagine having two. I didn't know if I envied her so hard it ached somewhere in my chest or if I was relieved I wasn't in her shoes.
Two guesses to which one it really was.
"He made you forget?" I changed the subject, looking...well, terrified. "That's probably the creepiest thing I've ever heard. Someone rooting around in your mind, making you think or feel or remember or forget something you don't want to? That's scary." The words were lame, but I couldn't actually express how horrified that thought made me. My brain was my own, thank you very much, and I'd appreciate it if it and my body were left in peace.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-09-03 05:18 pm (UTC)And yet he apparently wasn't attracted to me at all. None of the touches on his part appeared to be leading anywhere. Very rarely had I felt this degree of comfort with a person, to feel secure that I could reach out and they would reach back. And it had never happened with someone who didn't want to sleep with me. I had no context for what Peter and I were doing. The only conclusion I had for the touches was sex, and Peter didn't want that. Not with me.
He claimed there were feelings, there. But I could only quantify emotions by the actions they generated. Things like this, like what we were now, I understood them on a basic level. He wants me so he holds me, he enjoys me so he sleeps with me. I matter to him, so he kisses me. I hold his attention, so he is attracted to me. My relationships had failed because I hadn't been enough, I had stopped being an object of desire.
But if I had never started with Peter, then how was I supposed to keep him?
I had tilted my head slightly to rest my temple against Peter's, lost in my own thoughts. I came back when I felt a sudden tension in his body and I blinked, lost. Oh, crap.
Rewinding the conversation in my head, I picked up the last thing I'd heard. "Why tape it?" I asked Claire.
"Well," Claire considered the question, biting absently at her thumbnail. "At first it was for my family. My real family. I wanted to show them what I was, thinking that they could, I don't know, explain me or something. But then it became for me. Like, so I wouldn't forget, no matter what." She paused, then evidently decided that Peter and I could be let in to some thought. "There's this guy who works for my dad. Or, he did. Anyway, he can take your memories. Make you forget. One day, everyone in my life had just...forgotten stuff. Except me. He told me I'd need my memories. And I had to pretend and..." Claire trailed off, the frustration of that still evident in her face. "Anyway, I wanted to always have a way so that they couldn't take at least that from me, you know?"
That was...a lot. I sorted through in my mind, making a logical list of...
Oh, who was I kidding? "Your real family?" I blurted out. "I thought Nathan was your dad."
"He is. My bio-dad," she grimaced slightly. "I was raised by my adopted parents. I didn't think they would understand who I was. Turns out, my dad understood probably better than anyone."
Wow, that was a whole lotta family for one person. I didn't have any, not anymore. I couldn't imagine having two. I didn't know if I envied her so hard it ached somewhere in my chest or if I was relieved I wasn't in her shoes.
Two guesses to which one it really was.
"He made you forget?" I changed the subject, looking...well, terrified. "That's probably the creepiest thing I've ever heard. Someone rooting around in your mind, making you think or feel or remember or forget something you don't want to? That's scary." The words were lame, but I couldn't actually express how horrified that thought made me. My brain was my own, thank you very much, and I'd appreciate it if it and my body were left in peace.