Jaded

"You're a special woman, Rachel," James said gently. "I love you. I never thought I could feel this strongly about anyone..."

Rachel smiled and held out her hand. "I love you, too..."

Tonight was their two month anniversary. It was a deeply romantic occasion, set in candlelight at a small local Italian restaurant. Frank Sinatra sang about New York in the background. Rachel, innocent and pretty, was in heaven. She tried and failed to protect her face from the indignity of running makeup. She was adorable, with shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back in a clip, smooth white skin, baby blue eyes and a soft smile. She was in love and didn't try to hide it.

"We have a future together, you know," James said.

"Yes. I want that." Rachel answered with a smile. "So much."

James allowed his mind to drift back. Two months ago.

He had met Rachel at a party thrown by a mutual friend, a flashy woman named Victoria, who adored opening her home to large gatherings that included plenty of alcohol. Rachel was new to this particular circle of friends, and nursed a drink standing in a corner of the living room, appearing to be interested in the books on a tall oak bookshelf. In reality, she looked lonely.

James had endured a strange battery of relationship failures up to that point, but he was determined to make a change. Rachel was cute. No, James decided, she was seriously cute, a term he had overused in high school that was reserved for only the best, most attractive of women. Further, Rachel was isolated and, in fact, a little lonely. James found out much later that she had never been in a truly serious relationship before. The attention James ravished on her was soaked up greedily. She beamed in his spotlight.

They spent the evening together and shared a kiss before the night was over. They would see each other again two days later, then approximately every other day after that for the next eight weeks. They made love for the first time two weeks after the party - an intense, emotional session that left them both satisfied and sweaty.

"You're a great lover, baby," James smiled. "Everything you do, my body loves."

"Then I want to do everything," Rachel beamed.

So they did. They played with each other in every way imaginable, ways that certainly surprised Rachel.

"Oh my God, I can't believe we did that," Rachel said laughing one time. "It felt so good....but I'm really not that kind of girl."

"You're not?" James responded with an exaggerated expression of shock.

"Maybe for you I am," Rachel teased. She was curled up and happy in his strong arms.

"You're amazing, Rachel. Everything we do is special, and it makes me want to do more. It makes me want to learn everything about you and your body and what makes you feel good."

"Yes. I love you, James. I want to share everything with you."

Oral sex. Anal sex. Toys. Bondage. Nothing was off limits - everything was experimental and fun. They could do no wrong with each other. Everything was playful and done out of trust and love.

Or so Rachel thought.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

James had been dating off and on for many years before he met Rachel. At age 24, he met Samantha, a woman he fell in love with quickly. She was bright, emotional, honest and dependable. She was also very pretty, but reserved. He saw a future with Samantha. He treated her as an equal, a woman deserving of respect. He held doors open for her, complimented her regularly, took her out several nights each week.

"I've been looking for a man to treat me this way for a long time," Samantha said. "You wouldn't believe how most men treat women. Like shit, mostly..."

James basked in her compliments. He thought he learned a lot from his father how to treat a woman. Gentle, with respect and dignity.

"You're a good guy," Samantha had told him on many occasions. "You're a good, decent, solid guy."

Over time, the compliments made him feel as if he were lacking some essential quality that men should have. Once he learned that these compliments were less about who he was as a human being and more about her need to not feel vulnerable, he felt less complimented. In fact, James knew he was a good but also quite complex man. He wasn't necessarily the complete angel that she assumed he was.

He tried to expand their relationship into new territory. Sex between the two of them lacked spontaneity and passion. Their time together grew stale.

"Let's try something new, something crazy," James said one night. "Something sexy."

"Like what?" Samantha responded defensively, almost as if she were constructing a wall around herself. The word sex appeared to have some automatic negative connotation for her.

"I don't know. I want to enjoy you, find out new things about you, learn what makes you tick..."

Samantha sighed and looked downward, as if to say, "Here we go again."

"Let's try a little bondage...tie you up, make you my sexy little love slave for the night..."

Samantha got upset and started to cry. James was crestfallen.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"I don't want to do that stuff."

"Oh. Why not? Sex is supposed to be fun..."

"I've done that stuff, James. It's in my past and I want to leave it there."

"I don't understand...why wouldn't you want to be as open and playful for the man who loves you and wants to marry you? Why do that with other men and not me?"

"It's in my past, James! It had it's moment in my life, but that's gone now. I got hurt. I felt used. I told myself never again."

"Why did you feel used? Tell me about that..."

"They said they loved me but they only wanted sex."

"Did you enjoy any of it?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Sometimes. It's just, I don't want to go there...it's not who I am anymore..."

"But..."

"Never again. If you loved me you'd understand. Leave it alone."

James was hurt, far more than he allowed himself to show to Samantha or to anyone else in the outside world. He didn't understand. Sex and touching and making love was supposed to be fun, a natural part of all relationships. Why would she open herself up to these assholes and then close herself off to the man who was committed to her?

James fumed for weeks, hurt and rejected. He often compared himself to her former lovers, and wondered what exactly had transpired and why he was getting something less than what he wanted. He was jealous of men that he had never met, jealous of what they had shared with her and jealous that they had opened her up in ways that were always going to elude him.

Samantha had walled herself off emotionally and spiritually. She was unavailable in ways that were important to him. She would never be able to trust him the same way she trusted her ex-lovers. James broke up with Samantha several weeks later.

James met Toni a few months later. Toni had dated an abusive man before James came into her life. This fact alone should have set off bright red alarm bells within his mind, but no - apparently, James believed that he would earn her trust and open her life up in ways that her ex could not. He was wrong.

"I was in love with him," Toni explained when James asked her about her prior relationships. "He was so sweet at first and we had so much fun together."

"What kind of fun?"

"All kinds. We went out a lot, we had crazy sex..."

"Crazy sex?"

"Oh my god, one time we invited his friend over and had kind of a threeway," Toni said almost in wonderment. "It was fun, out-of-control..."

"What else?"

"We would go out on the town, catch a show, stay up until the early morning making love. I didn't see his darker side until later, though. He sometimes drank too much, and then he just got mean."

"Would you ever do a threeway again?"

"Oh hell no. Never. That relationship hurt me a lot. Never again. I just want a sweet, ordinary man to settle down with. That's all."

This was a common theme. Every time this theme repeated itself, it hurt James more. Women who pour themselves into men who don't deserve it, leaving a burned out husk of a woman behind. Some of the women he met were wonderful in many ways - intelligent, faithful, pretty, great personality - but there was always that defensive shell where they had been hurt before. They would never open up and take risks like they once had - those days were gone. Never again.

James, as the nice, polite honest man, would just have to accept it and love them for who they are. On behalf of decent honest men everywhere, he was fed up.

Tanya was the final straw - such a bubbly, outgoing woman with a large personality. James fell for Tanya and saw a bright future with her. She might someday make a great mother and wife. Except -

"I don't like sex that much. I know it's important to you guys, so yes, I can do it, but don't expect me to get into it too much. It's just not that important to me."

"Sex is part of love. It bonds a couple together."

"That's a line I've heard a million times before. I'm sick of it. All sex has ever done is hurt me."

James didn't understand how this woman, smart and funny, could turn so cold when the subject of sex came up. It doesn't fit. It doesn't make sense.

"Sex feels good..." James tried to argue, but there was no point. It wasn't a logical thing. It was a defense mechanism, as powerful as a child's urge to move his hand quickly away from a hot stove.

Tanya wouldn't listen anymore. "I promised myself that I would not give away my body sexually as I had done in the past. I tried those things, but they are in my past."

"Did you enjoy it at all?"

"It doesn't matter. What's done is done."

James broke up with Tanya a few weeks later. The emotions were overwhelming. Somewhere deep in his psyche, he snapped. He found himself alone, sometimes in front of a mirror, asking tough questions.

"I don't understand. I want a best friend and a lover. I want someone to open up. Someone who understands me. I can't find that. I don't understand."

These women were jaded. Hurt. Angry.

Never again, they said.

It's over, James told himself through clenched teeth. I'm finished playing the "good guy." I don't want another man's sloppy seconds. I don't want the sad, empty, hollow woman who gave her very best to a man who never deserved it.

If this is how the game is played, then let's begin. Blow the whistle. I'm ready.

James was a cauldron of fury, determined to get a piece of the sexually adventurous pie. Determined not to finish in second place. He dances in his basement, adorned with black trunks and bright red boxing gloves, abusing a punching bag as both physical exercise and mental determination.

"Women, you give away the best you have to offer to assholes," James growls to an empty room as he continues to take out his frustrations on the bag. "When you are at your most energetic, most passionate, most trusting, most willing to open up and take risks - it is with men who use your innocence and spit you out as if you didn't matter. You then close yourselves off from the world, from your men, and you demand that we understand, that we respect your past and honor your desire for a more boring life. The passion is gone, the fire is dead and the life has been drained away."

James wouldn't accept that.

Back at the Italian restaurant, holding Rachel's hand. James is gentle, soothing, loving. He knows now how to play this game, and he does it well.

"I am so glad you are willing to open up and try new things with me, Rachel. It makes me feel valued and trusted and loved."

"You'll always protect me, James. I know that. You make me feel safe..."

No, Rachel, foolish girl. This is the game that everyone plays. I'll get my wish and use you for my pleasure, then toss you aside when I am done with you. You'll never be the same again. Oh, you'll date and fall in love and probably get married and maybe even have kids...but you'll never be willing to give yourself away to anyone as completely as you have given yourself away to me. Your innocence will be destroyed and your passion for romance and sex will be a small fraction of what it was.

"I love you, Rachel," James says smoothly. "With all my heart."

Rachel smiles back. "I love you, too, James."

I will have won, and all of the men in your future will wonder about the man who defeated them.