“I have a hard time being alone. I have a hard time being with people, too. I need people, but I think I only need them to need me. Only when I need to be needed, only on my terms. The rest of the time, I like to know they’re there, that if I need to be needed I can find them, but otherwise alone. In the silence. With a horse. Or a book.
I dreamed of being accepted to the Spanish Riding School in Vienna when I was young. I dreamed of falling in love with an instructor who looked like that hunk from that cop show where the beaches were always white, the water blue and the girls nearly naked. I dreamed that he’d marry me, and on our wedding night, surrounded by misty white tulle, he’d ravish me sweetly and possess my hated virginity, and all would be right and perfect with the world.
But not really. I think more of possessing than I do of possession. The dream started when I was young, before I had sexual feelings. Before I understood why it felt good to touch… there. Then it was less detailed, and the feelings were undefined. The person kneeling was androgynous, just a pale figure with brown hair in a state vulnerability. What I felt in the dream as I looked down on them was power, well-being, safety. I didn’t need protecting.
I don’t remember when the figure became male. The first time I saw his penis, and was aroused by the muscling in his back and shoulders, and knew that the exciting part of it wasn’t that he was male and I was female, but that he had the strength to overcome me, the desire to over-power me, and he made the choice not to. He made the choice to kneel at my feet and kiss my hand…
It meant that MY strength was indomitable.”
~Stella (a working title