Have I ever told you about the best sex I’ve ever had? I can’t recall.
It was in Mark’s parents’ basement, years ago. We were still in college, so I’m guessing we were twenty. We snuck downstairs after everyone else was asleep. He fucked me, missionary position, on an old mattress on the floor. I was literally screaming my head off it was so good. I have no idea why.
After a couple minutes of me screaming, Mark told me to be quiet. He didn’t want me to wake anyone up.
So I stopped screaming.
But it’s not good.
See, I was planning a trip. I didn’t get very far. I did not buy plane tickets, did not make hotel reservations. But I wanted to.
I ran it by Mark yesterday morning. I told him I wanted to visit family (true). I did not mention that I wanted to meet a Twitter friend in actual, three-dimensional reality (also true).
Somehow, Mark had a sixth sense. He knows me. He knows that I have a tenuous-at-best relationship with my family. He knows that I don’t schedule visits of my own accord, ever. So he checked around. Read my email? Read my Twitter feed? Read whatever he could find until he had some proof.
Listen, I love Mark. I want to be with him. Without him, all of these other questions that I have about myself and my sexuality are meaningless. Today is our anniversary, and I’d like to make it to celebrate another one. So I’m giving Mark a gift. I’ve shut my Twitter account. I’m going to take a break from being Jenna. I’m only going to be me.
I just can’t do both at once.
Category: Personal Essay
/ Tags: Mark
We had dinner with the real Jenna tonight. (Her husband and her kids, too.)
Her house was beautiful, the food delicious. Her kids stress her out a little, especially the little ones.
She does like Mark. I caught her looking at him. Well, he is hot.
Mark, on the other hand, hides his feelings really well. If I didn’t know, I’d never suspect anything. He’s good.
In any case, I like her. You would, too.
So my question is, is it working? I mean, befriending Mark’s crush. At first I thought it would somehow protect us, stop things from going too far. Then I thought it might be hot to be around her, knowing how Mark feels about her. Now I wonder if my presence changes everything, makes the situation somehow less sexy. I don’t know.
I had another nightmare this morning.
I dreamed that I visited Mark at work, alone. For some reason, we had a meeting with a coworker of his. In the dream she was not the real Jenna, but another woman, a gorgeous woman. She was way prettier than me.
In the dream, I turned my back for a moment, or stepped outside the office for some reason. I was only gone for a second. When I returned, he was kissing her. She smiled when he stopped. Then they saw me watching.
At this point, Mark disappeared from the dream. All of a sudden, I was alone with the beautiful woman. She apologized profusely. I could tell that she felt really bad.
I felt bad too. I couldn’t tell much about their relationship. Were they having an affair? She didn’t tell me. I think that I told her that she was beautiful. I asked her if I could kiss her too. She declined.
Seeing Mark kiss another woman, a woman more beautiful than me, filled me with jealousy. I woke up with the most profound feeling of sadness, so deep that it made the dream feel real. Again, I clung to Mark needing to be held. But I felt something else, too. It wasn’t just extreme jealousy, but also happiness. I have no idea why.
I had an awful nightmare a few nights ago.
Let me back up for a minute. I just finished reading Jung to Live By, by Eugene Pascal. It’s a guide to the theories of Carl Jung. Jungian psychology is enlightening, and if you are not familiar with it, I recommend the book. If you have studied Jung, then you know that he believed that dreams are valuable windows into our psyches.
Jung actually advised against dream interpretation, so perhaps I’m way off base here. It’s also more than likely that my dream arose not out of my psychic unconscious, but rather from watching too many episodes of Breaking Bad. It’s possible.
So, in the dream Mark was trying to bomb the nursery wing of a hospital. And I was helping him. No, I had to help him. He couldn’t do it without me. There were certain things that were my responsibility. I remember hiding evidence in a backpack. I did not want any part of it. Somehow I felt responsible for making him want to bomb the nursery, and I also hated him for doing it. I knew that we would be caught, and that whatever his reason for doing it, the outcome wouldn’t be worth it.
I know that Mark would never bomb anything, let alone a hospital nursery. But that dream shook me deeply. I awoke shaking, scared, and needing to be held. For days since, the dream has returned to me dark and strangely meaningful.
Jung taught that we all have a dark, shadow side. Some of us accept that part of ourselves. Some of us hide it. Some of us never know it at all.