Chapter 57B: Questions

It was a bit awkward in the room, but this time it wasn't because of how we felt, but rather because of the furniture. Apart from the big double bed, there were only two chairs, and a small vanity table; quite Spartan furnishings really. There wasn't even a TV. Dana plopped the pillows against the headboard and sat on the bed, stretching her legs. While she got comfortable, I filled two cups and served the coffee. Pulling up one of the chairs next to the bed, I sat down.

After a lengthy silence, I decided to take the plunge. Clearing my throat, I said, "As I said in the car, I over-reacted," I began, but she stopped me.

"It's all right, Mitch. I understand. If you don't mind I'd like to go first. I suspect you must be wondering why I did what I did," she interjected.

I nodded.

"Before I get into that though I want to tell you this. I'm really sorry for what I did. I've never wanted to hurt you or pry into things that you want to keep to yourself. I... well... You're pretty sensitive about some things and I should have known better." She took a pause as if to collect herself. "When I saw the notebook, I guessed what it might be. I wanted to confirm what it was, because I had some questions in my mind. As I said, I didn't read it. Yet, I knew it was wrong of me to do something like that. You know, after all I had gone through, you'd think I would have learned something about pain and hurt. But, I went ahead and—"

"Please, Dana. Don't beat yourself about it, OK? I told you I over-reacted."

"As you wish. I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry for what I did. I also want you to know that it is not something I do. I mean, I don't invade the privacy of people, and I..." She let out a frustrated sigh. "I know you're a very private person, honey, and that makes me feel more—"

I cut her off. "Dana, I understand. Please, don't beat yourself about it. All right?"

She nodded, but I could see she was still very unhappy with what she did.

"Look," I said, "maybe it's good that you've did it. I need to be more... umm... lenient... flexible? I haven't made allowances for people, people that I care about. Like Kathy, for example. It's partly because she's nosy, and has always been after my case. So, I've—"

"Mitch, honey, it's also because you're protective of her. Protective of people you care about," she interjected.

"Yes. There's that, too. So, why don't we just... you know?" I made a dismissing gesture to indicate she should not dwell on guilt. "I care about you, too," I added.

She nodded with a small smile, and then took a sip from her coffee. She seemed to be in a contemplative mood. After a long silence, she looked up, and said, "In these last few days, too many things happened; we hardly had a chance to talk. I have a lot of questions in my mind. The more I get to observe you, the more confused I get..."

"In what way? Can you elaborate?"

"I don't even know where to start, Mitch. There are so many facets," she replied with a sigh, and paused. "You're caring, loving, attentive, passionate, but also judgmental, opinionated, secretive, and at times... self-centered. You exhibit a lot of contradictory behavior. I suspect—I know—some of it is because you have trust issues, or because you're protective, like your secretiveness, your reluctance to talk about things, but I can't explain the rest of your behavior. You puzzle me; I can hardly read you or understand you."

Some of the things she told me I was aware of, but some came as a surprise "How come?" I asked her. "You read me like an open book. Sometimes I wonder if you're telepathic."

She gave me an indulgent smile. "Not always, Mitch. Maybe that's the impression you've got, but it's not true. Please, let me finish! I know you have trust issues, and keep things to yourself, but some of the things don't make any sense to me. That first time we met, you told me quite a lot, and since then... well, you've not been very talkative. And when you start talking, suddenly you clam up..."

"Well, I... God! It seems so far back in time..." I trailed off because I didn't know how to respond. Oh, I knew what she was asking, and the answers too, but I didn't know how to answer her. "Things have changed. I mean... you know what I mean. We were two strangers then, and I didn't know we would get involved," I said hoping she would accept that simple explanation.

"I know what you mean, but..." She let out a sigh. She was quiet for a little while, but I didn't think she expected me to respond; rather she looked like she was mulling it over. "Yes, I understand where you're coming from. Let's leave it for the time being."

I nodded.

She took a sip from her cup, apparently trying to formulate her words. "I don't know how to explain this, but I get confused, Mitch. Sometimes you're so attentive, it's unbelievable. You pay attention to very innocuous details, surprising me pleasantly... which tells me that you care about me... a lot! But then you do or say something that indicates something entirely different, complete opposite of what I thought you were. Remember the time when we were going to the restaurant, when you directed the taxi to a side street? I asked why, and you told me you didn't want Sarah and me to walk on the cobblestones with high-heel shoes. It's such a small detail, no men would think of. That's just one example." She flashed a fond smile at that point before resuming talking.

"Then you talk down to me as if... I don't know. You talk passionately about things, but now and then I get a glimpse of a person that is judgmental, opinionated, and the way you express yourself is very strong; I get the feeling you wouldn't even argue the point if someone dared to express an opposite view. Like the little sermon about people at the pier this morning, when we left the ferry..."

My mouth fell at the last part. I knew I was opinionated or judgmental about some things, but especially about some people, so I tried to keep that part of me well under control, because... well, because I didn't like that part of my character. To tell the truth, I was aware I was overly critical of people, society, or things... and most of the time I felt I came across as arrogant, or patronizing when I expressed my opinions, or criticized something. So, I tried to keep my mouth shut.

While I was mulling over what she told me, she moved on. "A few nights ago, when Sarah, you, and I were having dinner in the restaurant, you were all for empowering the women, criticizing the society and its values. Today, I witnessed how strongly you felt about it," she said pointedly, referring to the incident we had in the first motel. "Don't misunderstand me; I agree with you, and I'm glad that you feel so strongly about it. But, at the same time, you behave in an overbearing manner, as if women would need a man's help. I just can't reconcile the two behaviors."

"Well, I... it's..." I stopped to try to formulate my reply, but I was agitated. "I... I know I'm opinionated... and judgmental... about some things," I said. "That's also why I'd rather listen than talk, why I'm not talkative. I don't want to come across as a complete... err... ass or a jerk. I also know I react to some things rather strongly, especially when they are directed at people I care about." What happened in the hotel wasn't the first time I've reacted to what I perceived as an insult or an attack against myself or people I cared for. I remembered how I dealt with Lizzie when she approached me inappropriately and how she later tried to attack Sarah and me. "You're right, you know. I don't care much for hypocrisy, double standards, or people who are self-righteous. And sometimes, I know I may be overly critical of people, or even wrong about some people. So, I try to ignore them most of the time... and keep my mouth shut. But," I sighed, "I'm not always successful. I try hard to not come across as an arrogant, judgmental person."

"I understand, Mitch, but everybody is entitled an opinion. I'd rather have you express your opinions than be a silent, mute person, or a yes man, although I doubt you'd ever be a yes man!" she interjected. "I'm just trying to understand why you're like that and the apparent contradictions. Look, I hear what you're saying. Every one of us has quirks, personality issues; that's what makes us what we are. I'm guessing, you're not happy with that part of your personality, and you've been trying to hide it. On the other hand, you've been talkative enough that I caught glimpses of some things. I'm just glad that you weren't so guarded around me, OK? It tells me that you're letting your guard down, being yourself. Please do not revert back to your earlier self, guarded, non-communicative... As we come across issues we'll work on them, help each other. That's how we change and grow up, personally and in a relationship as well. Remember, roses and thorns."

I barely managed a nod.

"Please, honey. Don't take what I'm saying as a criticism. It may sound as if you have many faults, but that's not the case. We all have things we try to hide from people, our weaknesses, things we're not happy with, or things we believe are faults; in short, our imperfections. I told you before, nobody's perfect. We just try to do the best we can; try to control or change for better, learn how to deal with them. You have to keep in mind that we haven't had a chance to really talk, to communicate. True, too many things have happened in the last few days which kind of felt like we've known each other for a long time, and yes, we grew closer, but it's also an illusion forced on us because we didn't really have much time or opportunity to get to know each other. Am I wrong in assuming that this vacation is an opportunity to get to know each other better?"

"No, you're right about that, Dana. I was hoping we would get to know each other better... and talk."

She chuckled when I hesitated before I said "talk," but returned an encouraging smile. "Good. Then that's what we'll do: talk, communicate, share, and get to know each other. To tell the truth, I've been reluctant to talk as well. Does that surprise you?"

"Yeah, it does. How come? You seem to be the one who's always looking for a chance to get us to talk."

"Because I also have secrets, issues, weaknesses that I try to hide, or things I'm reluctant to talk about. I know something about hurt and pain. I try to protect myself, but when you get involved with a person, get into a relationship, and you care about that person, then you'll want to protect them too." Flashing me a contrite smile, she quipped, "You know more about that than I do."

I chuckled and appreciated her humorous attempt. It did a lot to help keep the talk going in a much more friendly, intimate, and relaxed atmosphere.

"I dunno. I could easily nominate Kathy for that title, or Mom," I retorted.

She laughed at my quip, shaking her head. Collecting herself, she said, "Let's get back to what we were talking about."

She took a sip from her coffee. "This is something I didn't want to talk about, because it involves Sarah, but..." She stopped as if reconsidering something. "Let me start anew. When you went to visit Ulysses after his call early in the morning, Sarah and I went shopping. We had a very good time, and eventually got to talk a lot. As you can imagine, one of the subjects was you."

She flashed a wry grin, but I shrugged my shoulders, knowing women shared things, sometimes more intimate details; there was nothing I could do about it.

"Do you remember the conversation we had that morning, about your reluctance to accept help from Ulysses?" she asked. When I nodded, she said, "Well, I had lots of questions on my mind, then. I wanted to know more about you. Sarah has known you for a long time, and I was hoping that she might help me figure out some things. The short version of it is we talked about you. I can't say I figured things out, but I managed to sort some of it. Before I get into that, though... Sarah knows I might talk about this... about some things. We discussed it before. It's not that she didn't want to talk about it herself, because part of it concerns her, but I got the feeling she had her reasons. Other things, she would talk it over with you, whenever she feels ready. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Partly," I said. "What am I supposed to do? Act ignorant? It's... I'm just concerned that I might end up hurting her feelings by mistake, OK? I don't want to sound like an idiot. I can handle myself." I shot her a resigned look, and continued. "But I also know how I treated Kathy and then you lately. So, I'm concerned. I mean, what's the deal here? Is it something that might cause any problems? If it is, I'd rather not talk about it now, when Sarah's not present."

"Hmmm... You have a point there," she replied lost in thought. "Leave that to me. I'll sort it out with her. It's not a very serious matter, Mitch; just an example, but you might need to talk to her, eventually."

I nodded.

"She mentioned that you've changed a lot over the years. Our talk moved to your trip, and how much she enjoyed it, but there seemed to be something that was bothering her. I tried to draw her out, and eventually she told me she was puzzled by your behavior. She felt that you allowed her to drive your car from a sense of duty. She felt you had been a bit patronizing." She paused dramatically and waited for my response.

I was still reeling from the judgmental and opinionated comments she had made a little while ago, and now, the revelation about Sarah came as a complete shock. I took my time thinking about it. I realized Sarah was correct to some degree. I wanted her to work her need-for-speed out of her system. I also knew she would enjoy driving my car, and I had no problems with it. It wasn't out of a sense of duty, but I cared for her well-being and safety.

Now wait a second! If you weren't worried about her recklessness, would you have offered to let her drive your car?

I... I think I would have. I care about—

Bull! You never allowed Kathy to drive your car!

She never asked.

Yeah? Take a guess why she didn't!

What do you—

Come on, pal! This is you we're talking about. And Kathy. She knows you!

B-but...

My thoughts went to the past few days. I realized we either used Dana's car, which she drove or let me drive, and when we used my car I drove. Dana didn't offer to drive, even during the long trip this morning.

Why didn't she? Was it because of what Sarah and she talked about?

As I followed each thought, I could see a pattern emerging. Sarah's comments about male chauvinist pigs—which I readily admitted to being one...

Wait a minute! I made the joke about being a male chauvinist pig, first, not her!

So? Just because you made a joke don't mean nothin'! Your actions speak volumes. And the joke came out later! Perhaps, you were just trying to excuse yourself before she labeled you as a male chauvinist pig...

B-b-but...

B-b-b... But what?

I could hear the mockery in the retort. As I reviewed what happened in the car, I realized my inner voice was right. In my subconscious I must have known what I was doing and how it would be received. What better way to use self-deprecating humor as a means of defense, right?

I thought about why I behaved and talked the way I did. I realized I was a male chauvinist pig when it came to driving. I just didn't trust a woman driver. Even Kathy was no exception in that respect. And all that, despite the statistics showing that women were more careful drivers than men.

You mean more sedate drivers, don't you?

That's not even funny! But, yeah... that's what I meant.

You're an MCP.

So! What if I am? I'm just old fashioned about some things.

Yada yada yada! We're moving away from the subject.

Maybe Dana had a point after all. Truth be told, I wasn't sure anymore if I would have allowed Sarah to drive my car. It was also very obvious that I was quite possessive of my car. I had never figured myself as one who would be so possessive or materialistic, but now it looked like... On the other hand, I knew I had really wanted Sarah to enjoy the experience. Part of me had wanted to share in her joy, knowing that she would get a kick out of driving a sporty car. Now, learning how Sarah felt, I felt like I had let her down; I felt disappointed with myself. I had wanted to make her happy at the time.

"I'm sorry that she felt that way," I said. "It wasn't my intention. Yes, I'm judgmental and opinionated. And I can't deny I'm prejudiced about women drivers. To a large extent, it was my intention to get her over her need-for-speed, but I knew she would enjoy it." Remembering about her reaction while she was driving, I felt a smile form on my lips at seeing her so excited. "She was like a kid in a toy store, and I really loved to see her like that," I said. Then my face fell. "I guess I'm also possessive, and perhaps she felt that. After all, I haven't allowed anyone to drive my car. It's the way I am about some things. I'm not offering it as an excuse. It's just the way I am. That's why I usually try to avoid getting into an argument and keep my opinions to myself. But I suspect I haven't been tight-lipped in recent times, and it showed. I... I so very much wanted her to enjoy it... that's... that's what I don't like about myself."

When my eyes found hers, she nodded.

"I think I understand, now," I said. "Looking from outside, from a different point of view, I can see how confusing it must be, because I'm confused inside as much," I added, my mind going over my feelings and thoughts that seemed to contradict each other. "I mean, on one side I wanted her to drive my car and enjoy it, so I could share in her joy, but on the other hand, it seems I didn't really want her to..." I trailed off.

"Because?" she prompted.

I was feeling embarrassed, and was reluctant to answer her, but when she arched an eyebrow, prompting me, I answered, "Because she is a woman. How chauvinist, opinionated is that?"

"And you hate to be one?" she asked with a soft smile trying to take the sting out of her question.

"Of course, I do. I do respect women," I replied quickly, passionately. "And yet I—"

"Mitch, I think you're just confused. There are probably other factors involved, influencing you... like society itself, how men behave towards women and such. It's not only you, your upbringing, is it? I suspect, at home, women were treated with utmost respect."

I grinned, remembering Mom. That must have been answer enough, because Dana said, "I take that as a 'yes'! Sarah must have known that as well. I think that explains her surprise. She admitted as much, telling me you've changed, and wondering why. As I said, there might be other things at play there, Mitch. So don't be so hard on yourself, OK? Sometimes you have a very sharp and narrow focus, and you miss the bigger picture. Don't concentrate on a single item, or take it out of context. There are other things that equally prove or demonstrate that you're attentive, caring, loving, and that you respect women."

"How... uhh... how did Sarah take it?" I asked returning us back to the subject we were discussing.

Dana hesitated before she answered my question. "I... I have to break a confidence to answer that." She took a pause, mulling it over. Finally, she sighed as if resigned or resolved an inner conflict. "She... she told me about your accident."

When I didn't respond, she asked, "You're not concerned that she told me?"

"I think I'm getting used to not keeping secrets," I replied with a wry grin, trying to interject a little bit of humor. "I just hope she won't share that with Kathy or my family. If I remember correctly, I specifically mentioned them when I asked her to promise not to talk about it."

"I see... well, that makes it a bit easier for me. She mentioned you didn't want it known, and I got the feeling she wanted me to keep it to myself, but..."

I nodded in understanding. "So what about it?"

"Well, we talked it over at length. What I'm getting at is your possessiveness about your car or initial hesitation to let Sarah drive might be related to your own experience, to your accident. Seeing her drive recklessly you might have been reflecting it on her. There's, of course, your concern for her well-being, too. So, she wasn't really hurting, or missing out on the fun, but it kind of indicated to her that you've changed. She said that you were entirely too serious most of the time; much more serious than you used to be. She said that you used to be relaxed, or laidback even when you were being serious. She knows you more than I do. I think I agree with her based on what little I know of you, and it didn't come as a surprise to hear her say that." She smiled apologetically at that last one.

"Yeah. She mentioned I've changed. I know I did," I replied, remembering Sarah's words at her apartment. "And not for the better," I added almost inaudibly, as my eyes left her face, looking at something a thousand light years away. I heard her sigh.

"That remains to be seen, Mitch."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because that's not you. Not the defeatist attitude," she answered. When I flinched, she hastily added, "I didn't mean it like that! Don't concentrate on negative things. I know it's not easy, but that doesn't help."

Yeah, I know. Sometimes I just can't help myself but be negative.

When I didn't respond, she said, "Cut yourself some slack."

"When I don't cut anybody else any slack?" I retorted, almost instinctively.

"But you do. You're usually very circumspect about the way you conduct yourself. It's quite unusual, really. Especially considering..." she trailed off.

I realized she was trying to draw me out, so I didn't resist. "Considering what?"

"You're a very dominant person, Mitch. It's there, yet you choose not to display it most of the time, unless challenged. Even then you seem reluctant to exert your dominance. Interestingly, the dominant men are usually very aggressive, and controlling in almost everything they do. More obviously, they are very dominant and controlling in bed. Yet, you're gentle; you choose to leave the control to women in bed. It's very contradictory. At first, I thought it was because you might be insecure in bed, especially after what I learned about your past that first night in the hotel, but you weren't. You aren't. Even if you were, it wasn't there to be seen. From the very first time, and every time thereafter, whenever we made love, I didn't see anything I could define as being insecure. And before you raise any objections, I'm not lying or trying to boost your morale. By now you should know how I react to you in bed."

She paused to see my reaction, but her last comments, when I thought about them, killed any notion of objection I had had. However, her words about being dominant in bed reminded me something else... something that made me very uncomfortable. Sure, I've been gentle with Dana, and let her take control in bed, but with Sarah, the last time in Dana's bedroom...

But Sarah wanted it! She pushed you for it.

Maybe she did, but I don't do those kind of things!

Maybe? What 'maybe'! She did it. Period! Those 'kind' of things? You did it, and enjoyed doing it too!

Noo! No, no, no. I di—

Bullshit, Mitch. It turned you on. Don't you remember how it made you feel? To have her under your power and control?

I remembered it, and even though I wanted to deny it, I couldn't. But, God! Sarah drove me nuts then...

But I managed to keep it under control!

Yes, you did. But it was all playacting, Mitch, a fantasy play!

True, it had been playacting, and Sarah had initiated part of it, but I also remembered how easy it could be to lose control. The taste of power during a few moments had been just too tempting; I remembered them clearly, and I didn't like that. I never thought of myself as that kind of person, especially when it came to sex! The whole scene with Sarah seemed so out of character for me. I just didn't know what made me act like that. Did I have such dark fantasies? I didn't have an answer to that question.

Dana broke into my thoughts. "So, I know that you either didn't have any insecurity, or you got over them in a hurry. Yes, you do take control sometimes, but you don't insist on taking control most of the time, and instead let your partner decide or control the activities. That's not how dominant men are, especially controlling men."

Although Dana's words helped redirect part of my thoughts, I was still trying to find some answers to what I did with Sarah. I didn't think of myself as dominant; I didn't think of dominance in those terms, too, especially about sex.

Unable to find any real answers, I turned to Dana and asked, "Am I really like that?"

Perhaps, the reason I asked her that question was because I wanted a reconfirmation or a revalidation that I wasn't dominant in bed with my women. I certainly have been a gentle lover with Dana, and our love play, even when it got heated, had never been anything like what I had done with Sarah that one time.

"Yes, Mitch. You are."

"I don't know. I mean I don't really have any answers to what you're saying. I don't think I'm dominant or have a dominant personality," I said while mulling over what I wanted to say.

Or you hope you're not like that!

Dammit! I am NOT like THAT!

Instead of dwelling on the questions that I couldn't seem to find an answer to, I concentrated on my beliefs about sex: about how the intimacy between a man and woman should be like. Some of it was things Mother talked about when we had the 'Talk, '—actually we had more than once the 'Talk'—but the rest was things I've learned on my own during my experiences with women however limited they had been. And to some extent, I've had those beliefs validated. More than that, however, I knew from personal experience how I felt about the women I've been with, and what I felt when we got intimate. It wasn't simply a question of what worked and what did not! There has always been some chemistry, or an interest, and certainly some emotional involvement on my side. "The bedroom... well, I believe sex is a gift to be shared. And I enjoy seeing my partner take her pleasure, or rather, I enjoy pleasuring my partner." I said, and then I remembered something she told me before. "But you know that, don't you? You said something to that effect when we first met, if I remember correctly? So, from my point of view, I don't see any contradictions. Then again, I've been proven to be wrong on some things, so..."

As I talked, my words helped me clarify my thoughts. Unfortunately, they didn't offer any answers to why I did what I did with Sarah. I decided this was the wrong time to ruminate over that question when I was in the middle of an important talk with Dana, and filed it away for later.

"It's not a complaint, Mitch. Don't misunderstand me. I especially like how caring and attentive you are in bed. It makes me feel wanted, desired; it lets me know I'm the only thing that is important, but... but it becomes a hindrance when I want to show you you're the only thing that is important for me at that moment... when I want to show how I feel about you, or give you pleasure. You're self-centered in bed! Self-centered in the sense that you give but don't take... I'm not sure how I can explain it more delicately." She paused trying to rephrase what she wanted to say.

Am I really self-centered in bed?

I didn't think I was, and I had to stop myself from responding, forcing myself to wait patiently and listen to her.

Eventually she said, "When you're offered pleasure, you are reluctant to accept it, but you offer it all the time. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"Yes, I think I do. I'm not sure why I'm like that, though. I mean... well... you know that for a man there's no such thing as bad sex. A man not taking pleasure when he is offered sex sounds like an oxymoron to me. You know what I mean? But for a woman it's different. That's what I've come to learn. So pleasuring her is... well, I want to see her enjoy it. Because a man can have an orgasm, any time, easily. Not so for women. As I said, I see sex as a gift. But from what you tell me, it seems I may have a hang up. My focus is too single-minded. Is that what you're saying?"

She nodded. "Yes. Single-minded. That's a good word! I don't mean that when we're making love you're not there. You want to give, but I would like to see you accept pleasure when I want to give," she said. Flashing me a teasing grin, she quipped, "and not fight with you to give you pleasure."

Relief washed over me. I had to smile at the way she put it—my smile turned into a grin—but I understood where she was coming from.

Dana continued from where she left off. "You know, you're right about the differences between men and women. I do understand what you meant, so this isn't a complaint. Not really. It all comes back to scorecards, sweetheart. Like relationships and everything else, sex has its ups and downs. I do love your attentiveness, and wanting to pleasure me, but I don't want to have scorecards between us, how many orgasms we each had and so on. It's... how shall I put it? I think you're too considerate about your women and their wants."