4. SADIST

WHY: Although it can’t last, it’s good to know this level of passion at least once.

We were only together for seven months, but in this time he managed to call the police on me twice, give me a busted lip and strangle marks on my neck, and leave me begging for more. While marrying or having children with someone like this is a very bad idea, the only damage I endured was tarnished dignity.

It was March, I had just returned from a frigid February in New York and I was happy to go to the Continental Club in Austin and hear the great Toni Price belt out “calling my heart, calling me home, back to the place where I belong.” The song had lured me back to Texas and I was happy to have finally made it. I saw my return to Texas and the purchase of a house as a commitment to domesticity, finding Mr. Right, and reproducing. Texan men are real, and so much easier to attract than New York men; yeah, whatever. I would find myself a cowboy.

Lo and behold, but what would appear…he was tall, he was handsome, and he was in boots! Heehaw! I read recently that women typically prefer caring, even feminine traits in a man’s face. Not me, his rigid jaw line and solid nose made me know he was all man. He walked with a Cro-Magnon limp – his burly testosterone weighed him down so he couldn’t even walk upright. I stared at him across a crowded room, I beamed at him, and he gave me a hello on the way to the bar. We danced all night.

After a couple dates I went home with him. “Home” was an extended stay motel. I had managed to find a 42 year old man who was practically homeless, had three ex-wives, three children, and bad credit. Any woman in her right mind would have been deterred, but not me of course. I don’t remember much of our first night together, but he said that he had me doggie-style and was banging me hard and I looked back at him with stars in my eyes. He said he didn’t understand until he got to know me that it was a look of pure bliss.

A handful of days later he got laid off; big surprise. Day after day we had beer for breakfast and made love all day to a cheesy soundtrack of country songs I assembled for my cowboy fantasy. “Baby lock the doors and turn the lights down low” sung in Josh Turner’s low, manly voice makes me wet every time. As we listened to the songs I selected, I had a feeling as big as Texas. It was wide open to lust, love, passion, wholesome fullness. I was overwhelmed with the bliss of being back in Texas with a rugged, manly man kickin’ off his boots to make love to me.

He never ceased to turn me on with his slightly pervy grin and devouring eyes. He might not be able to hold a job or even rent an apartment, but everyone is good at something and his something was sex. Every time he opened his mouth I cringed in anticipation of the ridiculous things that he was about to utter but he is the closest I’ve come to meeting my sexual appetite. Like he said, before we met he always thought IT would have to be his dirty little secret. We shared IT: a rich, deep, beautiful world of sexuality and lust. It’s impossible to put into words why he was such a good lover. Our connection was not mechanical or generic, it was immediate and equal; I wanted him as much as he wanted me. We felt love and fear and rage. After our many fights I would go out looking for a more appropriate replacement, but my mind always floated to thoughts of him, the universe’s joke on me.

We spent Memorial Day in the parking lot of Sunrise Mini Mart. Nothing signals class like a little parking lot car repair on a national holiday. Sweat dripped from me but instead of making me angry it made me horny. Smooth by Santana came on the radio as I licked beads of sweat from the side of his face.

One night during a typical fight at a club he followed me outside and picked me up in a choke hold. The shocking thing was not so much that it happened, but that I liked it! So much so that instead of leaving like a sane person would, I followed him back in. The fighting continued; I took him home and he claims I gave him a bloody lip. He denied choking me. Sadly we both forgot the violent moments that could’ve given us so much pleasure: the honesty of violence, the consumption of pain.

We agreed that we were drawn to each other like a bug to a bug light. BZZT! It’s going to hurt, but we couldn’t help going back for more. We were like Ike and Tina, HER MAN, HIS WOMAN. He said that he wanted to throw me away because I was too pretty; that he wanted to scar me. We weren’t with each other because we wanted to be, but because we had to be, needed to be, couldn’t resist. We found IT; we looked into each other’s eyes and found heaven and hell.