When I finished high school, I moved out, and shared a small apartment with Lucy. She was my best friend and the only one who could understand me.
Over the final years at school I felt unwelcome around my classmates. I realized I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t that care free girl like most of them, and I kept to myself. I refused to go to parties where boys and girls mixed with only one intention. The thought of it, gave me nausea’s and panic stricken. How could such a union give pleasure? When my father abused me, I felt such a great physical disgust and soreness inside me. Above all, to these parties, liquor was drunk copiously, and the sour-sweet alcohol’s smell on the boys’ breath, enhanced sickening memories in me. My classmates called me frigid, and I heard them several times whispering behind my back, saying I was a snob, and cruelly laughing at me.
But Lucy had always been different. She respected my feelings and never asked what bothered me. But then, how could I possibly go around and tell everybody I was raped by my own father?
‘’ Dr. Donalson, I need some help. I don’t enjoy men’s company, and I really abhor them.” I’d said to my psychiatrist at my first visit.
“Manuelle, I may be able to help you. First we need to talk about you and find why you feel in this way.”
I started with some extensive sessions. Dr. Donalson was also a hypnotherapist and under trance opened up my past life. In a second stage, she made me join a group of other patients.
Under the doctor’s supervision, our group talked frankly of our problems. Dr. Donalson explained it was necessary to generate self confidence to increase our self esteem.
It was on these meetings I came to know Mark.
After these sessions, Mark and I used to go to a nearby cafeteria, and with a good expresso in front of us, we let our friendship grow. It helped us to forget our past and we set free the demons inside us.
With our growing friendship Mark became my good friend. He was the only man I have met, who never mentioned or talked about sex. Thinking back, I’m not sure, if that was because of his shyness or because he wasn’t really interest. But it was reason enough for me to stick with him. Finally, I had a male companion, and as he said, he could understand me.
In time, we stretched our friendship further,
“I have two tickets for the theatre, it’s a good show. Would you like to come with me Manuelle?” he asked me gently, one afternoon.
“Yes Mark, I heard about this new Miller play, and I’m really interested. I’m grateful you have thought of me.”
After the show, we had dinner in the nice restaurant next to the theatre. That night we celebrated our friendship, sharing a good bottle of Shiraz.
On the way home, we strolled lazily through the park, hand in hand, and when we reached my flat, I asked,
“What about a cup of coffee, Mark? I bought a new CD, it’s Mozart forth symphony, I’m sure we will enjoy the music together.”
It was a Saturday night, with a free Sunday in front of us, so we decide to be together, till the early hours
It was the beginning of something more intimate than a normal friendship, but it was never a real courtship from Mark. In all that time he never mentioned, words of love or passions. It was nothing similar to what you hear at the movie houses when lovers are exchanging it over the big screen. We just held hands. I can admit some warm feeling moved from one to the other, but again today, with a bit of more knowledge in love, I can compare those moments to lukewarm water, incapable to generate the fire of passion. Our confused inexperience, made us believe was love and so we married.