Bare

Self-Portrait. Taken November 8, 2007 in San Marcos, TX.

This dream was on the nose. Too on the nose.

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I’m pretty comfortable with being naked. 70% of the time I’m home, I’m usually in a state of undress (fully nude if it’s the Summer). I’ve had many sexual partners, and have never had any qualms getting naked in front of them. The first time I ever flashed someone was when I was 17, coming home from an Anti-Flag video shoot with some of my girlfriends and the car next to us had a sign in the passenger window that said “Show us your boobs” and so I did. Hell, I sold naked pictures of myself to random men for a very brief period in college. I’ve never been prudish about being naked, or the very least showing my tits to randoms, friends, or lovers.

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For some reason in this dream, I found myself all the way across the country to where you live. It was weird how I got there because I had seen a post on Instagram where you had taken a photo of your upstairs neighbors having a house party and captioned it with “Heading to the house party in a few”. I got a bad feeling, the feeling as if you were leaving me. I couldn’t handle the feeling and somehow I magically appeared at the party, topless. I already felt out of place because I was away from home and knew no one, but then I saw a pretty girl there. I thought about you talking to her, having a good time with her, potentially falling in love with her. It devastated me.

But first thing’s first—I had to find a shirt.

I went downstairs to your apartment, assuming you had already left. Your door was unlocked, which should have been an indication you were still home but my mind was so preoccupied with keeping myself covered I didn’t put two and two together. I scrambled through your living room, trying to find a coat, a shirt, a sheet—anything I could use as a barrier between my chest and another person’s eyes.

I heard shuffling in the room. I realized you were home. How was I supposed to explain my lack of a shirt when I had no idea how I lost it to begin with? Would you view me differently because I had no explanation? Would you see me as a wounded animal: helpless, weak, damaged?

I used my arms to cover myself as I went into your room, head down in shame with my tail between my legs. I came in and awkwardly mentioned I needed some assistance with finding a piece of clothing to cover myself.

You weren’t weirded out. You didn’t even seem shocked I was there. There was no judgment. You didn’t try to sneak a peek. Instead you sweetly said, “Of course”, then grabbed a clean shirt off the top of a random pile and gave it to me.

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Smack dab in the middle of Santa Barbara, I let my thoughts drift as I sat on the hot sand, fiddling with a random stick I found nearby as I inhaled the ocean air, my brain devoid of any thought.

My brain didn’t remain vacant for too long when I realized my insecurity around you. In my fifteen years of dating, I have tied my self-worth to my sexuality. I feel my most powerful, in absolute control when I know a man wants to fuck me. Physical cues, caresses, innocent touches that indicate that I’m desirable makes me feel as if I have complete control over over my body. I can choose whether to indulge the cue or reject it. Makes sense considering choice and control were taken from me when I was violated. It’s my way of reclaiming the things that I lost, insuring something like that will never happen to me again.

These men were easier to understand because their behavior towards me was so predictable. They were easily distracted and I never had to bare my soul to them. In lieu of giving them my soul, I could give them my body.

It’s different with you. It’s always been different with you. I never know how to act. In any other situation, I would feel comfortable giving you cues and encouragement to try and make a pass at me. But you’re not like the others. You’re not superficial, you want more than a physical embodiment. You want the raw stuff—blood, guts, gore, and all. I want to give that to you, but I fear of losing control again.

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I wish I told you I missed you when you strolled into town. I don’t know if you know I have missed you every day since you left California, but I want you to know that.

I should have told you.