Father knows best?
I was thinking about my father last night after I read child one's journal. He is dead now, and much of his impact on me has faded, but the residual damage has accomplished my alienation from men and relationships with them...except for my sons. I say a woman should raise a son before she can marry: it gives her greater understanding and empathy for men.
When I was a girl, about 9, my father made a few moves on me. Sexual in nature, but so fleeting as to be almost indiscernable. My family was sophisticated and waspishly uncommunicative, so there was no "sharing" of my feelings about this. I was aware, however, that he loved me in a somehow inappropriate way. That he truly loved me I never doubted, but the other thing left me unable to accept his affection without distrust. The way he looked at me sometimes, that saccharin sweet look, was not sexual as much as the way you would look at a love object...it wasn't that I felt he lusted after me, but that perhaps he was in love with me to some degree. As I grew older, in my teens, I found that I was powerful and could be angry at him. He moved to India when I was 13, and I only saw him a few times a year, so the times together were more intense. Once, when I was older still, maybe 19 or 20, we were in Rome together, we had met there, and we were having dinner at an outdoor restaurant. It was a lovely setting, and we were drinking wine and talking (he usually did most of the talking) and I looked up to see him gazing at me with that look in his eyes.....it shocked me then, as I had grown up enough to have had men in love with me, and I knew the look well.
He was jealous of my friends, of any boyfriends. When I was in my teens, and he was away most of the time, I only had to deal with my mother's reactions. But whenever my father met or heard of my boyfriends, he would sarcastically mock their lack of intelligence (the most important attribute in our family judging system)and if they were there, he would show them up with his piercing questions and snide comments without them even really being aware of how he was humiliating them in front of me. And I was always affected by his view, saw the boyfriend differently and thought less of them.
At 21 I lived with my father for a year in India and had quite a few young men coming and going, as usual. When I would go out for the evening my father could hardly hide his sulkiness, and had subtle comments to make.
Later, much later, I married, and that was the end of it. He kept in touch and occasionally visited (he thought my husband was a dope) but now he lived in Maine, retired, and our visits were infrequent as the children came. I think he came to loathe me in a way....jilted? At any rate, when he had died and my brother and I went into his house for the first time, I was confronted by something that really shocked me. There were framed pictures of my brother, of his wife, of their children, of all their family, but none of me, none of my children,none. I was so stunned and flabbergasted. I thought he had continued to love me, but I felt that he had simply lost interest in me.
So, I look over all the many men I have been through and try to evaluate why I chose them and how the influence of my father affected my choices and relationships. I know I had a lot of disdain when one fell in love with me. I felt powerful, that I was the one who held the reins. I chose uneducated men, physical relationships. sigh. So much to examine in retrospect.
When I was a girl, about 9, my father made a few moves on me. Sexual in nature, but so fleeting as to be almost indiscernable. My family was sophisticated and waspishly uncommunicative, so there was no "sharing" of my feelings about this. I was aware, however, that he loved me in a somehow inappropriate way. That he truly loved me I never doubted, but the other thing left me unable to accept his affection without distrust. The way he looked at me sometimes, that saccharin sweet look, was not sexual as much as the way you would look at a love object...it wasn't that I felt he lusted after me, but that perhaps he was in love with me to some degree. As I grew older, in my teens, I found that I was powerful and could be angry at him. He moved to India when I was 13, and I only saw him a few times a year, so the times together were more intense. Once, when I was older still, maybe 19 or 20, we were in Rome together, we had met there, and we were having dinner at an outdoor restaurant. It was a lovely setting, and we were drinking wine and talking (he usually did most of the talking) and I looked up to see him gazing at me with that look in his eyes.....it shocked me then, as I had grown up enough to have had men in love with me, and I knew the look well.
He was jealous of my friends, of any boyfriends. When I was in my teens, and he was away most of the time, I only had to deal with my mother's reactions. But whenever my father met or heard of my boyfriends, he would sarcastically mock their lack of intelligence (the most important attribute in our family judging system)and if they were there, he would show them up with his piercing questions and snide comments without them even really being aware of how he was humiliating them in front of me. And I was always affected by his view, saw the boyfriend differently and thought less of them.
At 21 I lived with my father for a year in India and had quite a few young men coming and going, as usual. When I would go out for the evening my father could hardly hide his sulkiness, and had subtle comments to make.
Later, much later, I married, and that was the end of it. He kept in touch and occasionally visited (he thought my husband was a dope) but now he lived in Maine, retired, and our visits were infrequent as the children came. I think he came to loathe me in a way....jilted? At any rate, when he had died and my brother and I went into his house for the first time, I was confronted by something that really shocked me. There were framed pictures of my brother, of his wife, of their children, of all their family, but none of me, none of my children,none. I was so stunned and flabbergasted. I thought he had continued to love me, but I felt that he had simply lost interest in me.
So, I look over all the many men I have been through and try to evaluate why I chose them and how the influence of my father affected my choices and relationships. I know I had a lot of disdain when one fell in love with me. I felt powerful, that I was the one who held the reins. I chose uneducated men, physical relationships. sigh. So much to examine in retrospect.