I’ve just been asked if I’m available for abuse over the weekend. I have a roommate in New York City. Let’s call her Maria. I call her the Queen of the Gypsies because she’s traveled all over the world and never keeps an address longer than a year. She’s a filmmaker, art dealer, human rights activist and clothing designer. She knows a lot of people. Apparently she knows a Nice Guy who’s a masochist with a foot fetish and would like to come over and clean. The entire loft. For free. How does she know him?
“I used to be in the S&M scene, you know…”
"What exactly does that mean, he wants to clean the place for free?"
“Organize the closets, dishes, anything you want.’ Her arms are flapping, Martha Graham-style as she moves through the apartment. “All you gotta do is yell at him.”
"About what?"
"About anything."
"Like what?"
"Think of something. And he's AMAZING at TOILETS."
This guy's called Pony Boy she’s Mistress Jade. They've known each other for five years, never using real names, and they’ve never had sex. This is, unbelievably, not uncommon. Foot fetishists are rarely looking for sex. Some might say they’re looking for something more intimate: an assault to their sense of self-worth.
I’m skiddish, of course. if I have a problem with it, she says, she’ll invite him when I’m not here. I do have a problem with it, I'm repulsed. I'm also repulsed by Frank Lentini, the man with three legs and two penises. This fact doesn’t stop me from staring at his picture every time I get the chance, of course. After a few minutes I agree.
“Good. You have to come up with a name. Mistress Something.
“He’s not going to touch me or anything, right?”
“Oh, no. Never. Just tell him he’s a worthless piece of sh** and he might ask to suck your toes. But you don’t have to let him.”
You wonder who on earth wants to be told that they’re worthless, much less travel all the way across town for the pleasure. A relationship of this kind has to be organized and planned. Not exactly like stumbling home with someone after a party. I wonder if I’m going to participate – however peripherally – in a psychotic event. I wonder if, instead of barking insults, I should ask Pony Boy how much sleep he’s been getting lately. Appetite shift. If he’s had or is having suicidal ideation.
Being depressed for me is like having a thousand Mistress Jades in my head. They hog-tie my thoughts. They collapse my body into a motionless mass. They tread their spike-heeled boots over my life force. But what would happen if these voices were attatched to real bodies? Is this really worth thinking about? I just want a clean apartment and a toilet scrubbed with bleach. Still, I can't help but wonder: is this man trying to fetishize his demons and thereby conquer them? Or is it simply a sexual lifestyle choice? Like being gay? Actual clinicians submit this argument. Others contend that it’s a psychological disorder. Is depression a masochistic disorder? What do you think?
Also: any ideas for a mistress name?
2 comments:
How about Mistress Distress?
OMG.
Well you are willingly stepping into an event that is transparently psychological-I don't know about psychotic--and we expect you to report to the rest of us in great detail.
But I'm fascinating by this stuff too. My mom taught Human Sexuality at Brown, therby stripping her children of any sexual fetishes. We had nothing to hide and were trusted to explore. Her only dissapointment is that one of us isn't gay.
I don't know if Pony Boy has depression and uses this sexual theater to release himself--but he isn't hurting anyone. Right? Or has he just found someone who will enable him to be sick?
I taught writing this summer and I had a sex worker in my class who worked in a dungeon---she had been severely abused as a child (shocking, I know) and I remember she wrote basically that the dungeon was a place for people who had been abused to come and abuse each other.
I guess if I'm not being flip I have some pretty strong feelings about love, and the ways people keep themselves from love, and use each other. I know that it isn't cool to judge house cleaning foot fetishists, but I wish each of them could put down the duster, and just find a cozy loving partner.
I think that to grow away from terror, demons need to be named, organized, and abandonned, while one practices with real love, and the vulnerability and humility this requires.
And what about when "sexual deviance" isn't between consenting adults but more predatory or criminal? In the mental health community we embrace everyone---but not predators---but how are we making distinctions? I know they hurt children but so does a depressed mother who isn't emotionally available. Don't get me wrong, pedophiles are worse than emotionally unavailble mothers---but still---out of fear of stigma, we never in the mental health community have frank discussions of the full range of mental illness--we never ever want to say our illness often makes assholes out of us.
Anyhow, A, a very provocative post--don't stop!
Lizzie - what you said her has the makings of a book - are you aware of this? Your thinking is so sophisticated and wise. I'm copying and pasting to read over again. "the way people keep themselves from love.."
Wow.
Mistress Distress? Too on the nose. I'm thinking maybe Mistress Ermalinda.... after my friend Daniel's beautiful, evil cat.
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