Squeeze
he was squeezing
something on his jaw line
near the left ear
he’d stop
then go back to it
an ingrown hair
another time he was scratching
a dry patch on his back
scratched until it was raw
but not quite bleeding
sometimes gnawing at finger nail
another time biting at something
on the inside his cheek
not every time we were together
we get together every couple of weeks
for a movie & food
for making out
it took a few years
before this squeeze pattern emerged
one that I recognize
I was once caught up
in small acts of self harm
the pinched pimple
the scratched spot
I know the odd satisfaction
that comes from inflicting
tiny persistent
pain
on myself
I have the scar tissue to show for it
I was never into big self-harm
burns to the hands
criss-cross slits on the arms
I was satisfied by my small
micro-aggressions against myself
against my body
I treasure the body
he harms
how do I call attention
his micro-aggressions
I’m not a professional
no one ever called my attention
to how I treated myself
I kept it too hidden
no one would see
the spot I picked till it bled
eventually that need left
not that I’ve seen him bleed
not until he tells me something more
than let’s play
then I’ll know
he wants more than comfort
There’s a relationship theory that what appeals most to us is something of ourselves that we see in others – some commonality – not sure where ‘opposites attract’ fits into that theory 🙂 For me, sometimes, the reflection of me I see in someone else is more a red flag than a red cape. This piece is about a real person – a guy I’ve been seeing for a couple years now – so we are quite emotionally & sexually compatible. He is not my mirror though & comes from a very different cultural background.
Part of my history is cutting – which took many forms besides the ones mentioned here – nail biting, pimple squeezing – thought I doubt if his comes from the same emotional place. His turned out to be a reflection of work-place stress. I did offer moisturizer a few times in case the itch was dry skin – rather than say ‘stop doing that.’
When I’ve been tempted to say something, to him or anyone else, I think first about my motivation, about my own past – as the piece says no one ever ‘diagnosed’ my actions. Perhaps because I grew up at a time & place where children weren’t diagnosed for such habits – now-a-days nail-biters get medication to behave acceptably. Also I wasn’t much of listener.
Teachers would say stop biting & I’d think ‘bite me.’ As I got older the unwillingness to take heed increased, in some areas. You drink too much – only meant I had to find a better crowd to drink with 🙂 Knowing better I could ignore via rationalization whatever someone disapproved – after all culture was wrong wrong wrong about the sordid sickness of queer so it was wrong about everything else too.
I’ve become a grateful that my sweet friend is comfortable enough to be himself around me – his quirks aren’t mine to correct but his presence is for me to enjoy. Besides he squeezes me in the best ways 🙂
TOpoet 