Nov 29, 2015 12:37
I don't remember what the joke is, but there is a joke. Not a terribly good, laugh-out-loud joke, the kind you tell to your friends days later, it's a domestic joke, just for the moment, just for the two of us, easily made, easily forgotten. One of those jokes he makes where masculinity has an important role. He makes fun of the whole macho attitude, but he also relishes it, puts in the spotlight. It's his thing, I've always been uncomfortable with it, but I know his intentions are good - he himself doesn't know why he does it, he prefers to think it's innoffensive. Most days, I choose to believe that too, we've had too many arguments about it, they lead nowhere. He's in the joke, then, he's still smiling, and suddenly his fist curls, it comes close to my face, and he growls, the smile plastered all over his face, to make it very obvious that this is ironic and funny and not to be taken seriously at all: "I'm going to show you the *good* loving!"
I do know it's a joke, I do know he doesn't mean to threaten me or make me feel bad, but I do. I feel very bad: insecure, menaced. I feel myself shrinking away, suddenly this isn't my kind sweet boyfriend anymore, it's a man, it's an animal, a violent animal that can strike me at any moment. Does he know what he's doing, does he know how he looks, what he sounds like? Does he know how terrifying that is for a woman, any woman, even one like me who is in a safe environment and never had to deal with obvious violence? Of course he doesn't, if he knew, if he really knew, he woulnd't act like that, I am sure of it. But he doesn't know, he can't know, he'll never know. When I tell him to please don't do that, he stops, apologizes, but he thinks I'm scolding him out of some kind of intellectual attitude, he thinks he's being educated, and thus resents it. He can't conceive how I could have this moment of fear with him, because of him, of all people. Did I really think he was going to hurt me? He feels insulted. And no, I didn't *really* think it, I didn't think anything, for that split second there was just fear, instinct. A man's closed fist coming near to my face. That shouldn't happen, under any circumstances, not without my prior knowledge and consent. Not as a joke, not as an accident, not as anything.
I coulnd't explain it to him. I didn't even try. I just said that maybe he should start making other kinds of jokes,jokes where speaking in a menacing voice and mimicking violence just wouldn't be funny. Because it's never funny. He said he would try his hand at fart jokes. I smiled, and that was that. I don't feel permanently scarred by that small incident. I don't think he's violent, or a bad person. What I'll remember is how, in spite of his intelligence and good nature, he just couldn't understand. He agreed to what I asked him, said he would try his best, but he did it to please me. He didn't comprehend. And that's where it all starts.
musings,
relationships