Seventeen

It seems I've always had violence in my heart, in my head. But not really in real life. I love violent movies, I read violent books, I listen to violent music, I have violent fantasies. Maybe that is completely abnormal and I'm a freak, and that doesn't surprise me. For a woman, I probably shouldn't feel that way. I've never laid violent hands on another human being, except for a boyfriend in high school, who I once punched in the balls one day when I overheard him talking to a friend about screwing his ex over the weekend. He's lucky that's all I did to him, because this jerk used to slap me across the face whenever I annoyed him. He's the only one that ever did that, but because I was 16 and "in love" I didn't know that was the wrong way to be with someone. Towards the end of my marriage to X, he had started grabbing my arms and shoving me around, pushing me down, throwing his fists into the wall or charging towards me like he wanted to hit me, and once overturned a TV set he was so pissed at me about something. But never a slap, never a punch in the face, never a bruise. But it was still wrong. I think all the pot made him basically lazy, and if not for him being so high all of the time, he probably would have physically abused me a great deal, if only to relieve his frustrations with me. But I was violent in the relationship, too, throwing dishes and screaming obscenities at him and slamming things around and putting my fist through a door and even once upending a table to send it crashing over and breaking. For thirteen years I was that way with him, I thought that was just me, just my personality, I had a hot temper. But there is not an ounce of that in my marriage to A, and throughout all our years together we barely even raise our voices to one another, even during a disagreement- when we do have one it is minor and easily fixable. A is a very calm, thoughtful, insightful man and has no need of raising his voice, or pounding home his point, or even of winning the argument. And so I have become the same. While married to X, because he was always temperamental and angry and paranoid and disillusioned, I also mirrored his behavior and his moods, and we clashed almost daily for over a decade, when I just became too tired to fight the fight any longer. With A my spirit has calmed, my demeanor is mild, my voice is quiet. Probably the worst thing I've done lately is spank one of my cats in frustration, for escaping outside and making me chase after him. (Who spanks a cat, now really?!) I now mirror A's personality, and we get along every day, and we don't spend our energy battling each other. Although there is no longer a hint of violence in my relationship with this tender, genuine man, I do still harbor violence inside. Okay, maybe it's just my "tastes". Everyone has a favorite genre of movie or music, maybe my tastes just happen to be violent. I love gory, sickening movies like Seven. I listen to Disturbed and Tool and Slipknot. I read true crime novels, the more disturbing and twisted the better I like them. The only TV shows I watch are the crime dramas or American Justice and City Confidential, or documentaries about murders or life behind bars. I don't know why, I don't know where that comes from, or why these are my tendencies. Maybe I am just fascinated with that side of human behavior, because it is so far removed from what I know in my own world, and I am strangely compelled to take a peek at it, like looking at bloody limbs hanging out of a wrecked car. We all do that, we can't help ourselves, we all slow to look over at the mangled vehicles to the side of the road as we pass by, safe and secure and whole in our own air-conditioned, plush-seated cars. We may reach out to touch our husband lightly on the hand, and say oh my goodness I hope everyone is okay, but we still stare hard and long and secretly hope to witness something gross, out of the ordinary, something we can talk about at work on Monday morning. Come on, admit it, you do it. So why do I read books about rapists and men who torture and women who poison, then write my husband a sweet love note on soft pink paper with heart stickers and leave it on his desk here at home for him to find in the evening? Why do I listen to head-banging music on my iPod while I'm pounding away on the treadmill, then email my family back home to say what a beautiful day it is here and oh we're having spaghetti for dinner tonight? I have such an overwhelming love for animals that I spend a fortune on feeding the wildlife in the yard, I take in stray animals, and I can't even stand the thought of killing a wasp who slips into the house. But later on when I'm sitting silently out on the back deck staring out into the lush green woods, full of life, I'm having wild daydreams about being a famous hired killer and taking strange men, forcing my passion on them. Weird? I don't know. Are there other women out there who have fantasies about being a pirate captain, instead of a fashion model? Call me a crazy person, that's fine. I am not acting out on my fantasies of being a rich, government assassin with many lovers all over the world. And I can say with 100% surety that I never will. One day I may sell a novel, or a painting. But I will always be a boring housewife, who may have a few disturbing and odd thoughts throughout the day while she listens to the laundry spinning in its final cycle. I do not know any serial killers, and I pray to the universe I never meet one, but I am extremely absorbed when I am reading about them and their exploits. I watch Criminal Minds and wish I had chosen the FBI for a career. I watch CSI and wish I had become a forensic scientist in real life. But I didn't, and I won't. I do not plan on ever killing anyone, but I certainly fantasize about it. In my fantasies I am not torturing little children, but killing the bad guy, assassinating terrorists or drug lords. You know, a female version of Miami Vice I suppose, only darker and more violent. I'm not certain what that says about me, if that means my disturbing thoughts show that I'm a disturbing individual. I started reading Stephen King back in the 1970's when Carrie came out. Back then I also listened to Black Sabbath, read comic books about dark and deadly villains, loved shoot-em-up Westerns and slice-em-up horror movies. So have I always had a leaning towards violence? Or does it simply mean I have bad taste in music and literature?