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ed_rexIntervention or, Have You Stopped Beating Your Wife?)
"Are you a pedophile?" Laura asked me, her round brown eyes poring into my grey-greens like X-rays.
Are you a pedophile? is probably the most uncomfortable question to ask of a 40 year-old man who is living with his 18 year-old girlfriend. Certainly, it is the most uncomfortable question I have ever been asked by my 18 year-old girlfriend.
I was momentarily silent, while Laura watched me close, and as I contemplated an answer. To simply say, "Well no, I'm not," seemed less than adequate.
We were seated at a patio on the north side of Bloor Street, somewhere between Dufferin and Ossington, not far from where I lived until some 7 years ago, during which time I had my last affairs with a woman my age and another, with one 8 years my senior. Since then, I have been alone or involved with women significantly younger, though none reached the 22 years that separate Laura and myself.
We weren't supposed to be there, but Laura had had a very bad day and needed a drink. No details – those are for Laura to to tell (or not). Suffice it to say that, on pretext of meeting her father Thursday afternoon, she was instead confronted by Mom, Dad and her nearest sister, 25 year-old Natasha.
I have met Dad a number of times and liked him as much as one can a man with whom one shares only love for his daughter. He seemed to understand that in Laura he has sired a most remarkable person and, due to that, I felt a kinship.
I’ve shared meals at his former home, dined him at my own and rented a car to drive him to visit one of his sons outside of Peterborough only this past Father’s Day.
Natasha, who, upon learning of my existence and of my place in her life, had declared a desire that she see me “beaten to a bloody pulp”, had lately seemed to have changed her mind. A couple of weeks back, we were both invited to a party at ‘Tasha’s and she treated me only as Laura’s boyfriend, not a monster.
Mom I’ve seen, but never met. Last winter, Mom and I both attended a performance by Laura’s drama class and Laura had made it clear I must be invisible to the Old Lady. She was not likely to approve of Laura’s choice in men.
Recently, another sister spilled the beans and Mom had proclaimed me an Evil Pedophile and made it clear to Laura that she must make a choice between Family and Monster.
I and – I think – Laura had thought Laura’s rejection of the ultimatum was it, at least for the time being.
I had been more than a little impressed by Laura’s phlegmatic acceptance that her mother had closed the door on her.
But on Thursday afternoon, it opened again. Instead of only her father, it disgorged not only her father, but her mother and sister Natasha as well, an angry (and concerned) triumvirate speaking with a single voice.
The four of them went to a park, not far from Mom’s home. (“I should have known something was up,” Laura said later.)
“It was an intervention,” she said, such as people are known to do for drug addicts and alcoholics.
And ...
After an hour or so of “discussion”, Laura simply walked off. It was clear that nothing she said was heard, let alone listened to.
She met me right at our appointed time at Dufferin Grove Park, where we had planned to explore the organic farmer’s market at Dufferin Grove Park.
She briefed me, briefly, on her day and neither of us felt much like shopping.
Laura needed a drink and I was more than willing to join her.
And so we found ourselves, pints in hand, eyes locked on one another’s.
“Are you a pedophile?” she asked me.
She was 17, I 39, when we met, the same gap between us when we first shared my bed, now nearly a year and a half ago. My two previous girlfriends are both still a few years shy of 30. It’s been a decade since I’ve been involved with someone my own age, let alone older.
There can be no denying that I tend to be attracted to women younger than I am.
Am I a pedophile?
“No,” I said, “I’m not.”
Laura waited for more. I didn’t believe she thought that I was, but it was a question she needed to ask. She needed more evidence than a mere denial could provide.
We met (of course) over the internet. “Did I lie to you about my age? Did I tell you that I am anything that I’m not?”
Laura shook her head. “I told them you didn’t,” she said, and I let flow a massive breath I hadn’t even known I was holding.
We were silent for a while, hands intertwined, thoughts perhaps not so close together. My mind was a chaos of relief, of self-doubt, of concern.
Laura’s? I can only guess.
Disowned by family, from anyone else I would have expected tears, or roaring rage,
Instead came a question. “Do you think I made the right decision?”
I was silent for a while. How could I even pretend an honest answer?
But she wanted one, and I did the best I could.
“I think so,” I said. “But take my words with a pound of salt – I am far from a disinterested party in this.”
“I know,” said Laura.
“Tossing aside my prejudice as best I can, I think you’re dealing with blackmail, no matter that the motives spring from love and concern.
“I think that going back home would be to walk into a trap – would be trade your freedom as a human being for the slave’s comfort of childhood.
“You can leave me any time you want.”
“What would you say if I agreed to try it? To move into my mother’s, maybe for a while ...?”
I nearly swallowed my cigarette, but tried hard to stay cool.
Laura’s mother is wealthy, I am not; I can offer her love, subsistence and the promise that we will deal with post-secondary education when the time comes. Mom has on her side a big house, free room, board and tuition, and probably a car in the very near future.
I am short, balding and more than old enough to be Laura’s father. My dreams of artistic wealth and fame are not far removed from those I harbored when I was Laura’s age.
For a moment – for two moments – I wondered, Why wouldn’t she choose comfort over risk?
Maybe she sensed my panic; maybe we actually are as sympatico as it so often seems.
She squeezed my hand. “I’m not going to do it,” she said, and squeezed me again. “I’m not.”
And mostly, though in part I wanted to dig deeper into her psyche – where were her tears, where the anger? - for the most part we spoke of other things through the rest of the evening. The Harry Potter books, our failed attempt to quit smoking, our near-disastrous financial situation, the problematic division of house-hold labour.
I don’t understand Laura’s ability to be so calm in the face of what would cause in most of us an emotional crisis (at best), but I am both grateful – because that is what I want – and proud of her – because her choice is the hard one, the “road less travelled” - that she has taken the decision she has.
From some perspectives, our life isn’t easy. Our financial straights are not dire, but neither are they easy. We live in a one-bedroom apartment and she is used to the ease of spacious homes. We both want a balcony and a yard for our cats. Paying for her post-secondary education promises to be difficult. And we are both too easily put off to tomorrow, what should concern us today.
But she has chosen the rocky path and I am (more than) glad she has done so, because I have, too.
We’ll work it out (or not – forever is a very long time). And meanwhile, we will share that mysterious whatever-it-is that we have, and live our lives today, thinking of tomorrow, remembering yesterday, and refusing the bondage of what-might-have-been.
"Are you a pedophile?" Laura asked me, her round brown eyes poring into my grey-greens like X-rays.
Are you a pedophile? is probably the most uncomfortable question to ask of a 40 year-old man who is living with his 18 year-old girlfriend. Certainly, it is the most uncomfortable question I have ever been asked by my 18 year-old girlfriend.
I was momentarily silent, while Laura watched me close, and as I contemplated an answer. To simply say, "Well no, I'm not," seemed less than adequate.
We were seated at a patio on the north side of Bloor Street, somewhere between Dufferin and Ossington, not far from where I lived until some 7 years ago, during which time I had my last affairs with a woman my age and another, with one 8 years my senior. Since then, I have been alone or involved with women significantly younger, though none reached the 22 years that separate Laura and myself.
We weren't supposed to be there, but Laura had had a very bad day and needed a drink. No details – those are for Laura to to tell (or not). Suffice it to say that, on pretext of meeting her father Thursday afternoon, she was instead confronted by Mom, Dad and her nearest sister, 25 year-old Natasha.
I have met Dad a number of times and liked him as much as one can a man with whom one shares only love for his daughter. He seemed to understand that in Laura he has sired a most remarkable person and, due to that, I felt a kinship.
I’ve shared meals at his former home, dined him at my own and rented a car to drive him to visit one of his sons outside of Peterborough only this past Father’s Day.
Natasha, who, upon learning of my existence and of my place in her life, had declared a desire that she see me “beaten to a bloody pulp”, had lately seemed to have changed her mind. A couple of weeks back, we were both invited to a party at ‘Tasha’s and she treated me only as Laura’s boyfriend, not a monster.
Mom I’ve seen, but never met. Last winter, Mom and I both attended a performance by Laura’s drama class and Laura had made it clear I must be invisible to the Old Lady. She was not likely to approve of Laura’s choice in men.
Recently, another sister spilled the beans and Mom had proclaimed me an Evil Pedophile and made it clear to Laura that she must make a choice between Family and Monster.
I and – I think – Laura had thought Laura’s rejection of the ultimatum was it, at least for the time being.
I had been more than a little impressed by Laura’s phlegmatic acceptance that her mother had closed the door on her.
But on Thursday afternoon, it opened again. Instead of only her father, it disgorged not only her father, but her mother and sister Natasha as well, an angry (and concerned) triumvirate speaking with a single voice.
The four of them went to a park, not far from Mom’s home. (“I should have known something was up,” Laura said later.)
“It was an intervention,” she said, such as people are known to do for drug addicts and alcoholics.
Come home!
We’ll put you through university!
Geoff is a pedophile!
Geoff is taking advantage of you!
And ...
If you stay with him, you’re no longer one of the family.
After an hour or so of “discussion”, Laura simply walked off. It was clear that nothing she said was heard, let alone listened to.
She met me right at our appointed time at Dufferin Grove Park, where we had planned to explore the organic farmer’s market at Dufferin Grove Park.
She briefed me, briefly, on her day and neither of us felt much like shopping.
Laura needed a drink and I was more than willing to join her.
And so we found ourselves, pints in hand, eyes locked on one another’s.
“Are you a pedophile?” she asked me.
She was 17, I 39, when we met, the same gap between us when we first shared my bed, now nearly a year and a half ago. My two previous girlfriends are both still a few years shy of 30. It’s been a decade since I’ve been involved with someone my own age, let alone older.
There can be no denying that I tend to be attracted to women younger than I am.
Am I a pedophile?
“No,” I said, “I’m not.”
Laura waited for more. I didn’t believe she thought that I was, but it was a question she needed to ask. She needed more evidence than a mere denial could provide.
We met (of course) over the internet. “Did I lie to you about my age? Did I tell you that I am anything that I’m not?”
Laura shook her head. “I told them you didn’t,” she said, and I let flow a massive breath I hadn’t even known I was holding.
We were silent for a while, hands intertwined, thoughts perhaps not so close together. My mind was a chaos of relief, of self-doubt, of concern.
Laura’s? I can only guess.
Disowned by family, from anyone else I would have expected tears, or roaring rage,
Instead came a question. “Do you think I made the right decision?”
I was silent for a while. How could I even pretend an honest answer?
But she wanted one, and I did the best I could.
“I think so,” I said. “But take my words with a pound of salt – I am far from a disinterested party in this.”
“I know,” said Laura.
“Tossing aside my prejudice as best I can, I think you’re dealing with blackmail, no matter that the motives spring from love and concern.
“I think that going back home would be to walk into a trap – would be trade your freedom as a human being for the slave’s comfort of childhood.
“You can leave me any time you want.”
“What would you say if I agreed to try it? To move into my mother’s, maybe for a while ...?”
I nearly swallowed my cigarette, but tried hard to stay cool.
Laura’s mother is wealthy, I am not; I can offer her love, subsistence and the promise that we will deal with post-secondary education when the time comes. Mom has on her side a big house, free room, board and tuition, and probably a car in the very near future.
I am short, balding and more than old enough to be Laura’s father. My dreams of artistic wealth and fame are not far removed from those I harbored when I was Laura’s age.
For a moment – for two moments – I wondered, Why wouldn’t she choose comfort over risk?
Maybe she sensed my panic; maybe we actually are as sympatico as it so often seems.
She squeezed my hand. “I’m not going to do it,” she said, and squeezed me again. “I’m not.”
And mostly, though in part I wanted to dig deeper into her psyche – where were her tears, where the anger? - for the most part we spoke of other things through the rest of the evening. The Harry Potter books, our failed attempt to quit smoking, our near-disastrous financial situation, the problematic division of house-hold labour.
I don’t understand Laura’s ability to be so calm in the face of what would cause in most of us an emotional crisis (at best), but I am both grateful – because that is what I want – and proud of her – because her choice is the hard one, the “road less travelled” - that she has taken the decision she has.
From some perspectives, our life isn’t easy. Our financial straights are not dire, but neither are they easy. We live in a one-bedroom apartment and she is used to the ease of spacious homes. We both want a balcony and a yard for our cats. Paying for her post-secondary education promises to be difficult. And we are both too easily put off to tomorrow, what should concern us today.
But she has chosen the rocky path and I am (more than) glad she has done so, because I have, too.
We’ll work it out (or not – forever is a very long time). And meanwhile, we will share that mysterious whatever-it-is that we have, and live our lives today, thinking of tomorrow, remembering yesterday, and refusing the bondage of what-might-have-been.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 02:27 am (UTC)I'm putting this entry into my memories as a reminder that things can be very tough but still right.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 02:52 am (UTC)All kidding aside, I know these kind of junctures in our lives can be very ponderous. We are never certain we made the right decision. I think that's in part why people have interventions. The intervenors need the others to agree that they are doing the right thing by sticking their nose in.
I agree with your assessment that regardless of your relationship with Laura, if she was to capitualate to her mother's wishes would only giving her mother power over her and her life.
I hope you guys manage to find a path through this.
Try not to be so scarce!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:03 am (UTC)All right, all right, I'll try to get around to posting some pictures of me in a minishirt soon. And to try not to be so scarec ...
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 03:26 am (UTC)It makes it harder when it's family, of course, especially because family feel entitled to do such things.
My best to both of you.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:07 am (UTC)Short and Sweet
Date: 2005-08-05 12:54 am (UTC)See you soon, maybe?
-laura
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 03:47 am (UTC)You guys have the strongest relationship of any couples I know. I'm just...wow.
But I think, even though I hardly know you, that you're both doing the right thing and that you'll pull through.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:09 am (UTC)It's far and away the best I've ever had ...
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 10:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:11 am (UTC)Likely so (Laura?) - but also, what her family doesn't seem to realize is that she is old enough that no one can "allow her to make the choice".
She's a free human being - she may (she will) suffer consequences (as will we all) for the choices she makes, but the choices are hers.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 02:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:12 am (UTC)Yes, her ability to deal rationally with the irrational blows my mind, often.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 03:41 pm (UTC)haha gee I wonder why you're having a hard time quitting smoking! :)
I dated a guy in his 40's when I was in my early 20's. Dated... uh. I use that term pretty loosely... but still, yeah. Conversely, I dated much younger men when in my mid-20's. Weird dichotomy. Got more crap for the latter, but both is still uncomfortable.
Funny how family tends to overreact and look at just the black-and-white's of things, hi-lighted in their own prejudices.
Which is weird coz I've just lambasted my father (in his 50's) for specifically dating women younger than I am simply for the fact that they are young and pretty, instead of by personality... and then wondering why he gets shafted every time :)
But that's neither here nor there.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:15 am (UTC)That sounds less like prejudice (though prejudice might be a factor) than it does like sound analysis. If your father is dating women just because "they are young and pretty" I don't think he has much of a chance of building something lasting. I too would start to roll my eyes if he wondered about it.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 08:35 pm (UTC)(I also still have your copy of Catch22 whenever you want it back from internet limbo land.)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:16 am (UTC)I hate making plans - would you care to kick things off?
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 01:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 02:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-25 11:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-26 01:50 am (UTC)As an outsider it's hard to say you both made the right decision, but frankly, I think her family will get over it and you guys will be just fine. Call me optimistic (or don't because I am truly not; that statement is sheer irony), but I do believe they will, despite their strong and harsh opinions right now.
Good luck to the both of you. I'm quite sure, as a couple, you will be able to work through this. You've both shown a strong sense of commitment, and that can get people through even the rockiest of roads. Just ask Sean. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-27 12:25 am (UTC)Yes. The weird thing is, that I suspect she doesn't consider it a risk at all. Or rather, that she knows it is a risk (most relationships don't actually make it 'till "death do us part" in any case), but that she is - eyes as wide open as they can be at 18 - willing to face the risk, and deal with the consequences, should they appear.
Which is something I understand, probably because I've taken more than a few "risks" in my time (and am now, come to think of it, putting my heart in Laura's hands). I have taken such plunges as dropping out of both high school and university, moving to new cities, hitch-hiking across the continent, and fallen in love, and I have known every time that most people would consider those decisions ill-advised at best. And in fact, on occasion most people were right.
But the mistakes were mine, thank you very much, and though I might have done things differently had I known then what I know now, I don't regret many of them.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-28 05:30 am (UTC)You're in a really tough situation.
From the outsider's viewpoint, especially outsiders who care for her greatly, I suspect what they see is someone who thinks she's in love but how could she possibly know that when she's only 18. Meanwhile you should have attained the wisdom by this point to realize that it isn't real and thus are harmful by continuing the charade. In hindsight, I was definitely not as mature or wise at 17 as I thought I was and I suspect most people have discovered the same thing. It's difficult to watch your children (or younger siblings) make decisions that you "know" are mistakes through greater experience. In those situations you want to defend them with everything that you have and may become desperate enough to resort to ultimatums to finally "get it through her head" that you really think she's messing up her life.
As the textbook says - what would a 40-year old man see in an 18-year old girl that leads to a long-term relationship. Generally it's about sex, or an unhealthy sexual appetite (ranging from immaturity to abuse). If you're a betting man, that's what you put your money on.
And to make things worse, you don't offer the financial incentives such an age gap would normally bring, you in fact bring financial difficulties. Though I suspect that actually acts in your favour in terms of sincerity (Laura is obviously not just paid-for arm-candy)
What you have to decide/prove is whether you two have defied the odds. It's definitely not impossible that a mature 18-year old could find exactly what she needs in a youthful 40-year old and vice-versa. But it's very, very unlikely, especially when she's so young.
That being said (and at 1:30 in the morning, perhaps I've said too much), I suspect it boils down to two things:
1) I think it's great! I'm greatly enjoying reading about the two of you and the fun times you have. I want it to be the real thing if only to prove that it can happen as I like mixing things up.
2) All the analysis in the world doesn't matter and both of you should do what makes you happiest. Even if the family is right and it won't work out and Laura will regret the choices she's made, it would be a horrendous crime to give up current happiness for a "what if?" Someone has to win the lottery and you've already purchased a ticket - what's the point in ripping it up before the draw because the odds are against you? Enjoy and prosper!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-28 03:20 pm (UTC)Quite true, in general (though this doesn't include the possibility that some young women might simply enjoy a fling with an experienced older man just for the experience - but I digress, as none of these possibilities (I hope!) apply to Laura and I.
And to make things worse, you don't offer the financial incentives such an age gap would normally bring, you in fact bring financial difficulties. Though I suspect that actually acts in your favour in terms of sincerity (Laura is obviously not just paid-for arm-candy)
No, that's for damned sure. If she was looking for a sugar-daddy she could be doing a lot better than she is through me.
In any case, I'm pleased you're enjoying our little soap opera. In any event, I believe we shall persevere - and that, at very worst, if it comes to an end, we will regret that it ended, not that it happened.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-28 08:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-28 03:28 pm (UTC)Aaarrrgggh, matey - glad I be to see ye back thee inter-web! The stars crossed may be - yet so far we sail straight and true!