Chapter 10 - It’s Not Me, It’s You.

These days, it seems we’re all amateur psychologists to some extent, myself included. We’ve all watched enough television and movies that everyone has at least some grasp of basic psychology terms and concepts. Hell, even just watching the news today will expose you to a myriad of pundits discussing in great deal the various mental ills of the world and the bad actors we see every day around us. So, it’s not surprising that pretty much everyone has some general understanding of psychological terms like ‘Narcissism’.

Another of these increasingly familiar terms is ‘Projection’. The theory behind this concept is simple: a bad person will subconsciously deny his own negative characteristics while at the same time attributing them to another. Any thoughts, motivations, or desires that one can’t accept in oneself are dealt with by being placed in the outside world where they can be derided without injury to the offender’s own, fragile, ego.

We’ve all seen it. The less than brilliant person laughing at another and calling them ‘stupid’. Someone who’s widely known to be completely classless throwing a fit and accusing his hostess of being rude over some relatively minor incident. The liar who’s always suspicious that everyone else isn’t being honest. A criminal accusing those around him of the very crimes he’s committed in order to try and deflect blame. Projection is the underlying cause for so many of our societal ills, including bullying, victim blaming and even infidelity.

What armchair psychologists don’t realize, is that this projection can go the other way as well. It’s not just the bad guys that project their faults onto good people. It’s also the victims of the bad guys who project their own empathy and compassion onto the people abusing them. We expect to see our own conscience and value systems in others so we just assume that our abusers are basically good people. We want to see good in people and so we do, even if they really are NOT good people.

In this way, the victims of abusers end up facilitating their own exploitation. We accept the toxicity of the narcissist and still try to find the good in them. We enable them. We stay with them far longer than we should because we think that we’re just misinterpreting the danger signs and that, deep down, they really love us and care about us.

Of course that’s not true. They really are as malicious as they seem. But we’re just as good at projecting as they are, so we stay until we’re broken.

“Oh, hey, Sweetie! Come on in,” Mel gushed as soon as she saw me standing there on her doorstep. “Look who’s here, Honey.”

Mel quickly grabbed me by the shoulder and ushered me inside, closing the door behind me as if she was scared I’d escape again if not corralled.

“Justin! It’s about time you turned up,” Lindsey echoed her partner’s greetings, jumping up from the dining table and trotting over to envelope me in a floral-scented hug. “We were starting to get worried - nobody’s heard word one from you all week. Are you okay? Where are you living? And why did you quit the Diner? Debbie’s been railing about that every time I’ve seen her.”

“Why don’t you let the boy get a word in edgewise, Lindz, and maybe he’ll answer you,” Mel laughed with an amused look aimed at my tall blonde inquisitor. “Come on in, Justin, and make yourself at home.”

“I hope it’s not too late?” I asked as I let Mel womanhandle me further into the comfortable and cozy home. “Hey there, Gus. How’s my favorite not-quite-two-year-old?”

The toddler giggled when I poked a finger into his belly to tickle him and then reached up with both arms in a silent plea for me to hold him. Of course, I couldn’t say no to that sweet little gamin. So I sat down in a spare dining chair and let Lindsey deposit her son in my lap.

“I’m sure Gus is better now that his favorite babysitter is here,” Lindsey assured me. “And of course it’s not too late. We’re just setting up for the party tomorrow.”

“You will be there, won’t you?” Mel asked pointedly.

“Actually, I have other plans.” While I made sure Gus wasn’t going to topple over, cinching my left arm securely around the boy’s belly, I reached down with my free hand and pulled the gift wrapped bottle of wine out of my messenger bag. “But I wanted to stop by and give you this. Happy Anniversary, guys.”

“You didn’t have to bring us anything,” Lindsey insisted politely as Mel accepted the bottle.

“Lindsey is right,” Mel chimed in. “This is sweet, but the present we’d rather receive is you, celebrating with us, at our party tomorrow.”

“I . . . I can’t. Sorry.”

I offered up an awkward smile as I shifted Gus back towards Lindsey and scrambled to get to my own feet. All I really wanted was to get out of there at that point. These women that I’d once felt so comfortable around - comfortable enough to go to when I needed career advice, a shoulder to cry on, or even a couch to sleep on for the night - suddenly seemed almost like strangers to me. I was unsure how to act around them. I’d never had a boyfriend before, let alone one I’d broken up with, so I just didn’t have any clue how to deal with the redistribution of former friends after leaving Brian. I guess I just assumed that, since I had been the transgressor, I didn’t have a right to keep any of these people as my friends. And instead of feeling comfortable in the familiar surroundings that had once seemed so welcoming, I felt like an intruder.

“I should go. I hope your party is a success. See you around,” I mumbled a quick goodbye as I backed away towards the door.

“Where are you going? You just got here,” Mel complained, rushing to intercept me before I could make good my retreat.

“Um . . . Ethan’s waiting for me,” I explained as I pointed towards the door.

“Why don’t you invite him in?” Lindsey interrupted, moving around me to add her body to the barricade formed between me and the door by Mel. “Better yet, bring him along to the party tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea . . .”

“If you’re worried about running into Brian, forget it,” Mel declared. “You know Brian - this is the last place he’ll be. He detests parties.”

“Unless there’s an orgy involved,” Lindsey joked.

That got me smiling at last because, yeah, we all knew Brian’s opinions on things like Anniversary Parties.

“It isn’t just that,” I spoke up, trying to explain myself. “I . . . I figured it would just be easier on you guys if I wasn’t around. I don’t want to force myself into the middle of things, you know?”

“Where’d you come up with that bullshit?” Mel shook her head and smiled at me like an indulgent, foul-mouthed, aunt.

“You were HIS friends first.”

“But you’re our friend too, Justin,” Lindsey spoke up. “We love you the same as him.”

“If not more,” Mel interjected with her own wry sense of humor.

“So, why don’t you hold on to that bottle of wine . . . And give it to us at the party?” Lindsey insisted as Mel attempted to shove the gift back into my hands.

For the first time since I’d walked out of the Rage party the week before, I felt like something in my life was the same. There WAS some stable ground underneath me. Not EVERYTHING had changed. I smiled at these two women who had become friends to me over the previous two years and let my relief show.

And I was just about to accept their invitation when there was a knock on the door behind me.

“That’s probably Ethan, wondering what happened to me,” I explained.

Mel stepped over and pulled the door open. “Hello. You must be Ethan, right? Well, get your ass in here so we can get a good look at you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ethan seemed surprised to find himself being towed into the house by a complete stranger.

“Please come in. We’re so glad to finally meet you,” Lindsey took over the introductions. “I’m Lindsey and that’s my wife, Melanie. Oh, and this is our son, Gus.” She bounced the baby on her hip sufficiently to get a giggle out of him, but it didn’t engender the smile she expected from Ethan, who seemed a bit shell shocked. “So, can you stay a while? We’d love to get to know you a little better. We can’t have Justin dating just anyone, you know?”

Lindsey was joking, of course, but it appeared that Ethan didn’t understand the humor. His return smile was pinched and obviously insincere. I felt him reaching for my hand and then subtly tugging me backwards along with him. It didn’t look like we were going to be staying.

“Thanks, but we have to go,” Ethan answered brusquely.

“We’re meeting some friends of Ethan’s for drinks,” I offered in explanation, trying to soften my boyfriend’s harsh reaction a little.

“Oh. That’s too bad,” Lindsey responded, genuinely upset that she wouldn’t get to interrogate the new beau. “But that’s okay. You can come with Justin to the party tomorrow, right? We can talk more then.”

I was just about to turn to Ethan and explain that the girls had talked me into coming to the party after all, adding the reassurance that Brian wouldn’t be there, when my new boyfriend spoke out and answered for me.

“Sorry, ladies. We can’t make it. I’ve got a performance tomorrow and Justin’s working,” Ethan stated, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

“You’re working? I thought you quit the Diner?” Mel enquired, quickly seizing on the pertinent fact like the good lawyer she was.

“Uh, yeah, Ethan got me a job working for the Carnegie Hall catering service,” I explained, leaving out the part about how my shift didn’t start till about four hours after the girls’ party was scheduled to end. “The PIFA orchestra is performing in conjunction with the Pittsburgh Philharmonic. Ethan is first chair violin and even has a solo.”

“A soloist? Wow. That sounds impressive,” Mel graciously offered.

“I used to go to the symphony all the time with my parents when I was a child. They still have season tickets,” Lindsey added, although anyone that knew her well could tell she wasn’t all that enthusiastic about the topic and was only saying what she had to be polite. “They’ll probably be there to hear you tomorrow.”

“Great. I promise to put on the best show for them that I can manage,” Ethan responded with the first glint of interest I’d seen from him since he entered the house. “So, you understand, there’s no way we can be at your party. We appreciate the invitation though.” Ethan gave the girls his usual killer smile and pulled at my hand a little harder. “You ready to go, Babe? We’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.”

“Sure.” I resisted his pull long enough to shoot the girls one last apologetic smile. “Sorry about the party.”

“We’ll miss you but it’s understandable if you’re just starting a new job,” Mel answered, giving me an easy out. “Don’t be a stranger though, you hear? We expect a call every now and then.”

“And don’t forget, you still owe us a night of babysitting,” Lindsey added, leaning in to give me a hug before Ethan could get me all the way out the door.

“I won’t forget. Just call and let me know when you need me,” I promised. “Hope the party turns out well. Sorry I can’t make it. Talk to you guys later.”

I’d had to yell the last few words over my shoulder as I trotted along at Ethan’s side down the walk. He seemed rather determined to get me out of there as fast as possible. I didn't know what had spooked him, but it was clear that Ethan wanted to get away from the girls as fast as he could. At the time it didn’t make any sense - what was so threatening about two lesbians and a baby? Ethan, though, was walking so fast that I was having a tough time keeping up with him and didn’t have time to question him about it.

However, we really did have someplace we were supposed to have been that night. Ethan was taking me to meet more of his musician friends at a house party off campus. Since we didn’t have a car it took us a while to get to the place and, judging by the lights and noise coming out of the house, the party was well underway before we arrived. Everyone seemed thrilled to see Ethan as we made our way into the thick of the throng. He got hugs and kisses from pretty much every person we passed. I was momentarily forgotten, at least until we got into the living room and were handed drinks.

“Everyone, I’d like you all to meet the man of my dreams,” Ethan announced with all due pomposity. “This vision on two legs,” he stood back and gestured towards me with a dramatic flourish, “is the inestimable Justin Taylor.”

The crowd around us all smiled and laughed, a few of them nodding approvingly. Personally, I felt like a zoo exhibit on display as they all sized me up. Ever since the bashing I’d had this lingering dislike of crowds, and especially of crowds that were all focused on me. Situations like this were particularly difficult and I could feel my anxiety level rising. Meanwhile Ethan, completely oblivious to my predicament, seemed to be happily soaking up the attention and approbation he was getting from displaying me to his fawning public. But he kept smiling on me with so much pride lighting up his features that I felt compelled to fight back against my nervousness. So I plastered on what I hoped was an acceptable smile and tried to pretend I cared about their names as Ethan introduced everyone to me.

As soon as they were all satisfied with their examinations of me, the talk quickly turned back to musician stuff and I was essentially forgotten. At first I was glad that I was no longer being singled out as the primary object of everyone’s attention, but pretty soon I found myself getting bored. The group around Ethan spent a good fifteen minutes or so discussing another violinist, Marta, and weighing her performance during a recent competition. How they could spend so much time and mental energy talking about such esoteric shit completely escaped me. I suppose I’d have viewed things differently if they were discussing painting, but since I knew nothing about musical composition or technique, I had a hard time focusing on the conversation. Eventually the discussion devolved to merely dissing the poor girl - who had apparently been eliminated from the ranks of the competitors - and I discovered exactly how petty musicians could be. Ethan’s remarks were especially cutting and dismissive, but since I didn’t know this Marta, I wasn’t sure whether or not the rancor was merited.

Either way, by that point I was so utterly bored I was hoping that the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

Seeing as Ethan was completely caught up in the conversation, I was eventually able to make a quiet excuse and scuttle off to an unoccupied corner of the front porch to have a smoke. The rush of nicotine through my bloodstream helped steady my nerves a little, but I still felt like making a run for it. I couldn’t imagine a scene I wanted to be in less than the one I was forced to endure right then. Of course I wasn’t even allowed that one little moment of peace to myself, though.

“Having fun?” Ethan asked, coming up behind me without warning, slipping his arms around my waist and gripping the porch railing with both hands, as if to cage me in place.

“Yeah. It’s great,” I lied, not even bothering to look at him as I replied.

“Liar.”

I was obviously going to have to do a better job with my insincere prevarications. “No, your friends are really smart and funny. I guess I’m just . . . nervous, that’s all.”

“Don’t be,” Ethan insisted, reaching up to run his hands through my hair and ending with his fingers curled in a half-nelson vice grip to the back of my neck. “You’re with me. They’re all jealous.”

I let him pull me around into a long, possessive kiss that almost quelled my disquiet.

Before things could get too heated, though, we were interrupted by the arrival of yet another of Ethan’s acquaintances. “So, this is the imaginary boyfriend?” I looked up to see a rather plain man, a little older than Ethan, with unruly, long, curly auburn hair and an urbane demeanor that seemed to scream ‘pompous nerd’. “Well, you’re definitely better looking than his last obsession. How long did that one last? A month? Two?” The guy looked over at Ethan with a teasing smile and a little laugh as if to indicate he didn’t mean anything by the barb. Then the noob redirected his attention back to me. “So, Ethan tells me you’re an artist.”

“Yep. That’s right,” I answered, glad that somebody seemed to finally be taking an interest in me for something other than how decorative I was.

“So, what kind of stuff do you do?” Friend Guy asked.

“Lately, I’ve been manipulating classical forms using digital imagery,” I explained succinctly, wondering at the same time if the guy had any background in art at all.

Apparently not, since my explanation didn’t seem to spark any real interest in him at all; instead he just gave me this smarmy grin and elevator-eyed me. “Hmm. It seems you’re not just a pretty face after all.”

For some reason, that particular comment got to me like nothing else and, for a moment or two, I felt a familiar spark of anger urging me to respond, “No. I’ve got a pretty big cock as well. And I give one hell of a blow job. Right, Ethan?”

The flirty little flip of my head as I spoke the words did nothing to placate my boyfriend, who immediately flushed red with embarrassment.

“Um . . .” He took my hand and started to guide me off to the other side of the porch with a quick, “Excuse us for a minute, Rory.” As soon as we were far enough away to have a private word, though, Ethan turned on me angrily. “What the fuck was that about, huh?”

“What? The guy was an ass, Ethan. He was ogling me like I was a piece of meat. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that shit,” I hissed back just as heatedly.

“These people are my friends and colleagues, Justin. I have to work with them every day. You can’t go around insulting them like that.”

“Yeah? But it’s okay if they insult me, huh?”

“I don’t think what he was saying was insulting. All Rory did was complement you and comment on how beautiful you are. Which, I happen to agree with, for what it’s worth.”

“But you’re my boyfriend, Ethan. You’re allowed to say that kind of shit. Total strangers aren't.”

“Come on, Justin. He didn’t mean anything by it,” Ethan maintained. “And even if he did, there’s got to be a more appropriate way for you to respond than to spout off with vulgarities and totally embarrass me like that. I have a reputation to maintain, Babe, and I can’t have my boyfriend, of all people, undermining me that way. You need to learn to control your temper, Justin.”

While I kinda understood why Ethan might be a little ticked at me for laying into his friend like I had, I hated the condescending tone he was using as he lectured me. I was also pretty miffed that he wasn’t standing up for me and that he seemed okay with his friend’s demeaning approach. The old Justin probably would have just stormed out of there after being talked down to like that. But the new Justin was still feeling raw and unsure of himself. So I clamped my lips shut and swallowed the retort that wanted to come out. I’d already let my temper and sense of personal outrage ruin one relationship that week, I didn’t need to tank what I had with Ethan too. Maybe he was right and I really did need to get a better grip on my combative tendencies?

So I took a deep breath, forced the comeback that was on the tip of my tongue back down, and said nothing.

Ethan kissed me again, this time with a little extra force, as if he were trying to make a point, and then led me back inside to the heart of the party.

And I was good little boy for the next forty minutes or so. I kept a tight hold on my snarky tongue and fought against the urges that kept trying to compel me to say something negative. I let Ethan lead me around and show me off like a prize hog at the fair without comment. I even smiled when appropriate and answered when comments were directed my way, as infrequently as that happened. All of which seemed to please Ethan, who eventually loosened up and seemed to start enjoying himself more and more with every beer he consumed.

Finally, though, I could take it no more.

“Zing, Ethan, zing!” Ethan was relating some story to yet another admiring group of listeners when I came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m going to take off, okay?”

“What? Already?”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” I offered as an excuse.

I could tell that Ethan was less than enthused with the idea of leaving so soon but he still offered. “All right. I’ll go with you.”

“No. No, you can stay here. I’m just going to go home and crash. I’ll see you at home later,” I suggested, almost desperate to get some alone time by that point.

“You sure?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I nodded and gave him my best reassuring smile.

“Okay.” He relented too easily, obviously eager to get back to his friends. Of course, he still had to make a production of my leaving early, pulling me closer and proclaiming loudly enough that half the room would hear, “Love you, Babe.”

“You too,” I answered, a lot less fervently.

But since he seemed unconvinced, I made a point of leaning in to offer a lusty kiss before I scampered off.

I remember what a relief it was to get back to Ethan’s ratty little apartment and finally have a couple hours to myself. It felt like I hadn’t had more than a minute or two of privacy since before the Rage party fiasco; which meant I really hadn’t completely processed all the recent changes to my life. And huge fucking changes they were, too. Changes that should have necessitated hours and hours of deep contemplation. However, between school, starting a new job, and Ethan dogging my every step, I hadn’t even started. So I was more than grateful to leave Ethan with his friends at the party, hoping they would keep him occupied and out of my hair for a while.

Back at the apartment I quickly poured myself a glass of cheap cabernet - the last of a bottle Ethan had opened the night before with dinner - and settled on the couch with Wolfram on my lap. The small, furry, warm body, whose contented purring only enhanced my thought processes, seemed to ground me in a way that I hadn’t experienced in a long, long while. I found myself thinking that the cat was probably the best part of starting a relationship with Ethan, and then I quickly chided myself for being so uncharitable. Ethan had done so much for me and been so understanding about my fucked up life - I really needed to give him more credit. It wasn’t his fault that I was feeling a bit stressed out. Or, at least, not wholly his fault.

The prior week - actually the whole prior month, if I was being honest with myself - had been a total circus. So many highs and lows it was impossible to count. I was still reeling and none of it felt real.

Shit . . . Did I really walk out on Brian, publicly snubbing him in front of hundreds of people, and leave the Rage party with the guy I’d been cheating on him with?

Wow! I still couldn’t believe I’d done that. I mean, yeah, I had been pissed off at Brian for ignoring me and refusing to tell me that he cared about me, but to actually LEAVE him? Did I really do that? Seriously? Not to mention the WAY I’d gone about it - walking out on him in the middle of a party he’d shelled out hundreds of dollars for, one meant to help promote a comic book I’d created and which I was still, conceivably, going to profit from. Talk about drama queen moments, right?

Did I just make the worst mistake of my life?

Sitting there thinking it all through, I realized that I had probably blown things completely out of proportion. Brian hadn’t actually DONE anything to me - well, except for that little scene at the loft where he’d worked me all up and then rejected me when he smelled Ethan on me. That was probably my fault though, since I had broken our rules and was, in effect, cheating on him. And, yes, he’d pissed me off - hell, I was still pissed off at him, to be honest - but we’d fought before and still managed to work things out. Why had I overreacted so much this time? What the fuck was I doing? Did I REALLY want to abandon everything that Brian and I had fought so hard to build just like that?

Of course, the difference between this fight and all the previous fights was Ethan. I’d never before had any other love interest that might intervene when Brian and I were fighting. I’d never even known someone like Ethan before. He was everything Brian was not; Ethan was sappy and romantic and ostentatious in his love for me. He was possessive in a way I’d been craving for a long time. And he was appreciative of me in a very vocal way. Maybe too appreciative and possessive, actually.

In thinking back over the evening, I found myself being more than a little annoyed by the way Ethan had been acting. Yeah, he’d been very happy to introduce me to all his friends, but sometimes it had felt like he was merely showing me off - bragging on me like he did about all the other competitions he’d won. I didn’t like feeling like arm candy for Ethan. Which was strange because that’s what everyone had always teased me about being when I was with Brian and it had never bothered me then - I’d just laughed about it and used it to tease Brian about his age. But while Brian had played along with the joking, Ethan seemed to take matters so much more seriously. Maybe that’s why I resented it more when the subject came up around Ethan.

Or maybe I was just being way too judgmental. I mean, Ethan had just turned his OWN life upside down for me. He’d taken me in when I didn’t have anywhere to go, had helped me find a job after Michael made it clear I wasn’t needed at the Diner any longer, and had repeatedly told me how much he loved me and how happy he was that we were now officially together. And he’d been so nice to me, so understanding about all I was going through with Brian. He seemed like the first person I’d met - other than Daphne - who really understood me.

“What do you think, Wolfram?” I asked my furry lap warmer. “I’m probably just being a bitch, right? I mean, Ethan has been great to me so far and he’s so outspoken about how much he loves me. I need to stop being so crabby all the time. I guess I’m just not used to hearing my boyfriend SAY he loves me all the time, which is, no doubt, why I’m doubting him . . .”

Wolfram and I might have had further discussions on the subject if left to ourselves, but that happened to be when Ethan arrived home. He sauntered in, bringing the scent of the springtime rain, which had just started outside, with him. He leaned down to kiss my cheek as he passed. It felt so nice to be acknowledged like that, that I immediately shoved my prior annoyance down. This was the relationship that I’d wanted - the one that I’d chosen - and I wasn’t going to start rethinking it now that I was already committed. It was time for me to grow up and stop yearning after something that it seemed I never really had anyway.

“So, how was the rest of the party?” I asked as soon as Ethan joined me and Wolfram on the sofa.

“Totally tedious. If I had to listen to Victor moan about his Heiffitz performance for another minute I was going to slit my wrists right then and there.” Then he reached out to run his fingers through Wolfram’s long fur and asked, “and what have you two boys been up to here without me?”

“Nothing much. Just enjoying some cat therapy. It’s amazing how calming it is to just sit around with a pussy on your lap.”

“I didn’t know you were so into ‘pussy’,” Ethan teased, leaning over to shoulder bump me in a friendly, familiar way. “No wonder you’re friends with those two lesbians. I think I better keep you away from them from here on out.”

We both laughed at the ridiculous notion, even though I still wasn’t happy about bugging out on the girls’ party the next day. “I promise, I’m not interested in them for THAT. But I really do think I should at least make an appearance at their party. I would hate for it to get back to them that I wasn’t being completely honest about having to miss the party because of work. Mel and Lindsey have been good friends to me and I really should support them . . .”

However, I didn’t even get to voice my full argument in favor of going to the party before Ethan interrupted me. “Justin . . . *sigh* . . . I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to that damn party. You need to make a clean break from that whole group and dragging it out is only going to make it harder for you. I mean, let’s face it, those people aren’t really YOUR friends. They were his friends first and no matter what you think they will always be HIS friends. I don’t want to see you hurt by running after their affection like this and then getting slammed when you find out they’re always going to take your ex’s side over yours.” Ethan pushed Wolfram off my lap so he could scoot over and take me in his arms. “You know you can’t trust them, Babe. No matter what they say, they’ll be loyal to HIM, not you. You know this, right? Isn’t it better to just move on and make a new life for yourself? What good does it do to hang on to something that’s obviously over?”

Ethan sounded so sincere. He sounded like he really was worried about me being hurt. And he made it seem so plausible that, no matter how much my old friends might claim that they still wanted to maintain a relationship with me, they would end up taking sides. It made perfect sense when Ethan said it like that. I didn’t want to get hurt even more, did I? So, even though I retained lingering doubts - and a deep desire not to lose the friends that had come to mean so much to me over the prior two years - I figured Ethan must be right. I should just cut my losses, move on, and make some new friends and a new life.

When I finally shrugged, indicating that I accepted Ethan’s decision that I not go to the girls’ party, he kissed my temple, gave my shoulder a satisfied squeeze and added, “good. I’m glad that’s settled. Now I don’t have to worry about you getting hurt or that bastard trying to use your old friends to win you back. Because from here on out, you’re all MINE. Right?”

And I just smiled at him weakly, trying to convince myself that Ethan’s kind of love was endearing and not just overly possessive, as he led me off to the bed where he proceeded to make love to me until I forgot all my potential protests.