The more I think about it, the more am sure discussing my past led to us moving backwards.
I was sexually abused for decades from when I was 9. Manipulated to believe I loved him. That my purpose in life was little more than serving purpose to people around me. I’ve been forced to have sex without consent. I’ve been emotionally abused by almost every guy I’ve been with. I was naive and juvenile and immature and I paid the price for it. My last boyfriend before my marriage manipulated and hurt me in ways I can’t express. I was 21.
So I light up for a micro second before my brain kicks in, even today if his name is mentioned. My heart skips a beat thinking someday S, my childhood love/abuser, might call me. So? So what?
That what you mistake as passion and love, is manipulation and abuse. Is the thrill and excitement that hits you even before you do something knowingly harmful. That will cause you excruciating pain.
Is that what you aim to kindle in me? Not love? Or kindness? Or warmth? Not happiness or comfort or passion?
You want me to tingle with the pleasure of pain. And then you say you love me.
Yes, you are right. I don’t get your jokes. Just like you don’t get my walls.