Making Love

Remember when we made love? Sure, we had intercourse, but it was different than getting f***ed. Making love was already anachronistic when we were coming of age, but it was a gentler way of approaching a potentially risky situation that underscored some sort of (potential) relationship. Making love was not merely a power play or sexy situation. 

It was always a misnomer. The ideal of differences uniting had to have pleasure attached to any power differences, (or the delusion that there was absolute equality). The ties that bonded were never wholly pure or without power plays, but people wanted to believe in making love, or were content with the facade—at least temporarily.

Maybe just some people wanted to make love. Others merely wanted the pleasure of the act, but they placated and performed either feigning the desire of unity or exacting power and humiliation, while the polite party demurred.

And on the occasions in which the polite party no longer claimed making love, and called out the power plays that harmed, they continued to get f***ed.  And it hurt. 

Assault and rape have always existed as shadow behaviors (and crimes). Now they are happening before our eyes in broad daylight on our screens, repeated 24/7, and we are agonizing not only from the pain, cruelty, and shamelessness, but from despair. 

The low-lifes gaslight. Their desperation and inability to engage in actual consensual relationships other than with those who will pimp or pose or blindly cheer for them, has created endless urgency to respond. It is terrifying and exhausting.

We had intercourse, but didn’t really believe in the schmaltzy “making love”. But the lust for power, more often than not, overshadowed a gentle love. And that lust for power has increasingly generated a making hate. 

Hate making has always existed between us. We thought we eradicated the overt gestures and speech, but they are manifesting daily, and tolerated (and even condoned). And as one who hates hate, I must put forth great effort to not reinforce my own tendencies to hate. 

Our relationship over the last many, many years has been making hate, with the occasional love making. Not just my pleasure versus an other’s. There has been insidious and overt diminishment, assault, manipulation, lying, cheating, hurt, threats, brutality, and all manners of harm inflicted, with no concern or regard. 

The effects are trauma and clinging to memories of all that I love, and wish we could make. 

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