I was bad yesterday, not just naughty, I was bad.
I was rude to a very kind man, a friend who I like very much and is better to me than I deserve.
I got embarrassed because I felt exposed. This led me to be aggressive and disrespectful and it was this reaction to being exposed that I want to consider.
Feeling exposed can be overwhelming for girls like me. In my head I want to be seen, but in real life I want to hide. But skilled men, in this thing we do, they expose us.
Sometimes they expose us by writing down just how we feel. We sit and read and look to the left and the right and wonder if they can see us. It is like that film – is the phone call coming from inside the house; is the writing coming from inside our heads? How did that happen?
They expose us by saying out loud the words in our heads. They expose us by making us feel what we swore we would never feel, and submission, longing, fear and hope tumble out in a mess down the steps.
They expose us by telling us to remove our knickers, by making us stand in front of them, shamefaced and toe curled.
They expose us by knowing exactly what we are, and by bending us over knees, beds, table and chairs to confirm just what that is.
The man yesterday? He is a wise, kind man and he listened. He stayed still and was his normal gentle, thoughtful self while I wrote to him of what I had learned.
And I polished all this introspection with an undignified squirt of rage. I am so cool. (That was sarcasm, in case that did not come through.)
I think being exposed is good for a girl like me. I think that is why I get so mad about it. I think I cover up so much all the time, how I really feel, what I am, what I need, that when I am exposed and when I my bluff is called (even by myself) I get mad.
There is something humbling about exposure. There is something relaxing about being stopped and made to be truthful. There is a relief in the honesty of exposure.
