Author: Michelle

Eve took a fruit, Eve bit the fruit
Juice ran down her chin
Babies will put things in their mouths
Never heard of sin.
–Joan Osborne/Lumina

I don’t really know how I would define innocence exactly, but I’m not sure I ever was innocent. Even when I was little, I felt like I was sort of in the wrong body. I felt like I should have been born “grown up” (whatever that is)

[It really fucks up a person’s punctuation if they use quotes and quotation marks in the same sentence. Certainly I am innocent of any knowledge of the rules of punctuation.]

{Yes, I’m doing this just to be punctuationally annoying. No, punctuationally isn’t a real word. Yes, I’m just about done with this schtick.}

In any case, I was definitely always sexually aware. I didn’t know what anything was called, or what its ultimate purpose was, but like most of us I knew what felt good well before I knew where and when it was appropriate to do those particular things. I apologize to anyone who might remember me from nursery school and suffered any traumatic events related to that.

Ahem.

I could say I was innocent of the connection between those feelings and other people…but that wouldn’t be true. It seems like I always knew that it could, maybe should be reciprocal. I knew I definitely didn’t want people I didn’t like to touch me.

I certainly didn’t know that that particular good feeling had anything to do with producing babies until I was much older. I don’t remember when I figured all that out. By the time they got around to telling us about it in school it didn’t come as a surprise.

What I was innocent of was just exactly how complicated sexuality and sexual feelings could make a life. And my life is sexually pretty uncomplicated compared to some people I’ve known. It would certainly be simpler if we could just indulge ourselves whenever we wanted with whoever catches our attention, but for most of us that isn’t how we organize our sexual lives.

Don’t worry, I won’t talk about the science behind that.
I probably could, but I don’t think it’s all that relevant, except that it might be worth thinking about if it explains why we still tend to pair up when we’re also built to have a wandering eye and libidos that go into overdrive when we meet new people who are sexually interesting to us.

And I’ve never figured out what role jealousy plays, but it seems to be something innate.

Or maybe we shouldn’t talk about sexual roles. It makes people uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as talking about masturbating in nursery school, that’s true. Who is wondering exactly what I am not willing to talk about at this point?

Me, too.

I walk on concrete
I walk on sand
But I can’t find a safe place to stand.
I’m scared, baby
I want to run
PJ Harvey/Big Exit

It has been said that I am sometimes a little bit headstrong.

Pause for laughter.

OK. I am really freaking stubborn. I do not back down from many situations. I have even been kicked out of a club. For fighting. Stop laughing. I was too fighting. If you want details you will have to ask me in person….but I was once banned from a place for trying to strangle a guy. No, I didn’t succeed. I’m just saying I’m stubborn, and I don’t back down easily. I once kicked a guy physically out of my car for insulting my hair. That might not indicate that I was stubborn as much as it indicates that I have a bad disposition.

I have been held up at gunpoint. I have been on fire.

What makes me run?

I will run away from anyone who stops talking to me. I will try once or twice to find out why, but if they remain elusive I will assume they are mad at me or they hate me, or that they don’t want me around, and I will run. Or, really, it’s more like a very slow walk backwards.

Is that a productive way to confront issues? Not so much.

But what am I going to do? They won’t talk to me..

I guess in some ways, it’s another way to stand my ground.

They know where to find me if they want to talk.
I can wait.
For how long?

As long as I need to.

They say they’d die for love and then they live it out
They’ll give you something to cry about
And suddenly you really fall to pieces…
–Elvis Costello/Town Cryer

Everyone has different ways of coping with excess emotion. Some people pace. Some people bit their nails. Some people yell.

I am a crier.

People do not like criers. They don’t know what to do when an adult starts crying. If you want to freak a man out, burst into tears for no apparent reason. Oh, there’s a reason. There definitely is. It just isn’t apparent to the naked eye. The crier may not be able to articulate a reason, or may just not want to tell you what it is. I can assure you that there is one.

Some people cry when they’re sad. Just about anyone will cry given an event sad enough. I tear up if I think of even the possibility of certain people possibly dying someday. I also cry at sad movies. I am so conditioned to cry during “It’s A Wonderful Life” that the tears start well before George Bailey is proclaimed the richest man in Bedford Falls and Clarence gets his wings. I start to cry when George gets his life back and runs through town saying Merry Christmas to Mr. Potter and the Savings and Loan.

Oddly, if I’m crying due to some sort of major event, the worst thing you can do is be nice to me. Give me a hug, ask me OK and then just leave me alone. If you make a fuss, I will feel like something really bad must be happening and it will make me cry harder. Or I’ll cry harder because it’s so nice that someone cares that I feel terrible.

I also cry when I’m angry. When I feel powerless. Actually, it might be more accurate to say it’s when I am angry because I feel powerless. And what’s the very worst thing to say to me when I’m angry and crying?

“Calm down.”

Just a warning–it’s a bad idea to ever to tell me to calm down, even if I’m not crying. If I’m crying, it’s a really good way to hear me say some very truthful things, in a very quiet voice. Maybe cruel things. If you tell me to calm down when I’m angry, there is a very good chance that I will lose the ability to temper what I say with kindness.

It’s also a very bad idea to assume that I’m incapable of reason just because I’m crying. I might look hysterical on the outside, but if you listen to me you will probably find me quite rational.

Sometimes I just cry because I’m overwhelmed. Usually if I’ve had a bad day, and have had to hold it together and act like I’m sane. If I have a bad day at work, it’s not unusual for me to turn the car stereo up to ear bleed volume and cry through the first song or two once I hit the freeway. I cry through a few songs, then I find I am feeling much better. Sort of like a steam vent.

Once I’m done crying, I can sing myself the rest of the way home.

Maybe some Patsy Cline.