Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #82: The Shame Game
April 26, 2009, 12:54 pm
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Last night, it got really hot in our house. I asked the huz to go downstairs to turn the air conditioning up. He got upset and said he was feeling comfortable. I said “Fine, get hot later on. Whatever.” Really I was feeling jealous that he is able to sleep with nothing but a sheet when I lay there huddled under everything and then some.

He got upset with my nasty reply (justifiably so), and said “Do you want to go downstairs and turn the AC up?” He asked this knowing full well that I wouldn’t go downstairs.

I played it out in my head, going downstairs to the dark room, creeping over to the thermostat and turning it, all the while listening listening listening until some sound made me tremble and shake and run back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me quickly and locking it, checking the lock and latch again and again and again. Standing in the dark bedroom after my run up the stairs, listening listening listening – is the man downstairs following me? Did he run up the stairs after me? Quiet. Listen. Listen. Try to walk calmly to the bed, but run instead. Jump back into bed, put the covers over my head, lay there with my heart beating in my head.

Out loud, I said “That is the second time in two nights that you have shamed me about my nighttime stuff.”

Did he shame me? I don’t know. I sure felt ashamed after our exchange, that’s for sure. But at the same time, all he really did was ask a question. A very loaded question that led me down a terrible road.

The truth is that I was walking down that road a long time before I met my husband. He just reminded me of the road, and it hurt to be reminded of it in that way, at that vulnerable time.

Not being able to turn up the air conditioner when you are hot, because it is located downstairs in a dark room. This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #21: Ashamed
November 8, 2008, 12:24 pm
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Yesterday, my computer caught a virus. I called my husband, and he tried to help me deal with it over the phone, but there wasn’t much he could do. I got off the phone with him, began to have anxiety and panic, and ran down the stairs.

When my husband got home, we both went upstairs together. I told him I hadn’t been upstairs since the virus thing happened. He asked why, and I said because I got scared. He said “Why did you get scared of the bedroom just because the computer got a virus?”

And then I immediately felt embarrassed. I feel ashamed whenever this sort of thing happens. Why would a person feel afraid that their computer got a virus? I don’t know. For me, it was because I felt violated suddenly. Like someone was watching me. Someone invaded my computer, invaded me. Someone put something evil out there in the world, a computer virus, whose only intention was to hurt someone else’s computer. And it scared me enough to run away. To run away in a way I couldn’t when I was a little girl.

This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. We get viruses in our computers and become afraid of the room our computers are in and then feel ashamed about that fear.




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