Desire

And that’s how a woman in all earnestness gets accused of having forced a man. Press the point further and the truth will out. He will damn you; say ridiculously, ‘You raped me.’

Desire. A woman is never allowed to show it.
O being desirable, yes. All our lives we are taught to be desirable. To have a body that can only be a certain type; dress a certain way; to speak in that voice; to smile shyly, coyly; to laugh like tinkling glass – not loud. No, never loud and boisterous and alive.

Desire. A woman is never allowed to show it.
Or she can and face the music. Between 16 and the rest of my life, I, woman, will have my own needs – ‘carnal desires’ – that beg to be fulfilled. And some women will work towards it boldly and in blazing honesty.
That man from that matrimonial website?
I met him yesterday for lunch.
We had prawns. He even ordered wine.
He was okay with me drinking wine.
So we had a glass of wine each.
I hit it off very well with him.
He told me all about his life.
He was even quite interested in mine. Really.
He invited me to his room later.
I went.
I came.
He never called back.
I mailed him.
He never responded.
I wonder why.
We really hit it off so well, you know?
What do you think the reason is?
Do you think anything happened to him?
Why hasn’t he called?
Do you think I should ring him up?
What should I do?
O God, what am I to do now?

Desire. A woman is never allowed to show it.
She can. They will choose him for her. Or she will find him herself but pretend that they chose him for her. She will hide all her power, all her magic in that wonderful alliteration called womanly wiles. And then it will be fine. Even when they are together with rice and confetti still clinging to their hair, she will smile at him – coyly, shyly. She will shudder and act horrified when hands clasp. She will cloak desire in that unflattering gown called duty. She will seduce with that incredibly unsexy move called submission. And she will win. Somewhat. Something. Somewhere. Someday.

Desire. A woman is never allowed to show it.
Triple murders happen across a city. It’s all gory and tragic. Gossip adds sleaze to the mix. Love, some say, was what caused it. They were having an affair and when the wife found out, things got ugly. They hacked each other to death. Now all three are dead. Triple tragedy. And you know what, that other woman? The police found a dildo in her cupboard. A dildo, aa? What is that? Sex toy. She was a foreign national, no? Loose morals they have. Always sex for them.
And that’s the detail that’s published about a woman who loved pleasure and died of much pain. It follows her even after death. In a paper pretending to be news.

Desire. A woman is never allowed to show it.
From one woman to another, it is drilled into our heads repeatedly. Life teaches everyone a lesson. And the lessons learnt are repeated. A mother to her daughter, sisters, friends. They all say it – Desire. You are a woman, you must never show it. He says he loves you. Now. But wait. Don’t do anything you will regret later. Let him marry, if he so loves you, you know? There is no need to do anything now. Meet, if you must, but not… It’s for your own good. If you do, you can’t blame him. Why will he be interested after that? No? Look at what happened to…

Desire. A woman is never allowed to show it.
In the beginning if she is very lucky, he will say all the right things. He will say, ‘Let me love you. I have not thought of anything but you in all these days, in all these months. I need to tonight. Please. You know I love you. You know it’s not sex. I can get that anywhere. It’s you I want.’
So she discounts all that she has learnt and agrees. Months pass. He is bored. Tired. He has other things on his mind. If she is lucky, he has no other woman on his mind. Now she has fallen for him. She wants attention. She wants love. She wants the joy and abandonment he brought her. She wants to reaffirm her relationship.
‘Please, baby, do you think you could love me for a few minutes? At least, just hold me.’
‘Not now. I am busy.’
‘But you are just watching TV.’
‘Okay. Get me a beer then.’
‘You know I don’t like beer breath. Will you brush later?’
‘Do you want me to or not?’
‘No, I… I…’ (Years of conditioning, she can’t assert her desire.)
‘Then?’
It’s done. In a few days, whether he has said the right words or not, he breaks it off with her. She has nothing left to lose now. So she confronts him.
‘Why did you have sex with me, then, if you didn’t love me?’
He says, ‘Because you forced me to.’

Disclaimer: This is creative non-fiction inspired by things I have been reading. And Anna Calvi’s song is dedicated to the beautiful, brave, and bold women in my life who have never pretended – ‘You don’t have to be lost.’ You’ve got desire, my loves. 🙂 Muah.

P. S. At the risk of being presumptuous, if after reading this, dear stranger, you want to make friendship with me because I have carnal desires, I will just say – Don’t.
Keep visiting my boudoir though. Thanks. Cheers, darling. 😉

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About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
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7 Responses to Desire

  1. Marvin Grey says:

    While I agree perceptions are tilted against women on all matters related to freedom of choice including sexual liberty, on the dildo issue I do not concur. Have you considered what people would say if they found a dildo in my room?

    Certainly, it is difficult to choose between a genuine imbecile or an asshole when a guy says he was forced to have sex.

    BTW do you know that there are a host of free dildo apps on the Android market 🙂

    Like

    • Oh MG, they will say that you were a fag, and who would have known. And that is another blog post altogether. “Certainly, it is difficult to choose between a genuine imbecile or an asshole when a guy says he was forced to have sex.” These lines reaffirm why I made you my BFF (although we’ve never met.) 😉 Yes, a lot of junk on the Android market. Pun wholly unintended.

      Like

  2. Srik says:

    Your writing is always inspiring. Also talks/teaches a lot about woman’s psychology and I’m awed! Keep writing Ms. Desirable, you’ve another fan on that list. 😉

    Like

  3. frty says:

    Darling, living in Europe, I can say, all that you have written holds good no matter where you live. Do you think men don’t get mind-fucked? Maybe there is not as many insistent men as women; but there are men brought up by women, who do go through all the sense of desire, belonging and ache for times of loved. Men are mere actors, concealing and demonising love. They are too scared to reveal their own selves for they may end up being not loved at all. So, through your head back and say, you don’t deserve me. Of course, everything is non-fictional. 😛

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    • frty says:

      *ache for times of love* & *throw your head back*, though through your head back isn’t that bad. Haha!

      Like

      • Frty. Hahahahaha. Well, anyone who turns away from good old-fashioned ck-ck does not deserve anything at all. And really, increasingly, I am seeing how men are too scared of life. And that’s why they get as mind-fucked as they do no matter where they live. Nonfiction, absolutely. 😉

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