I can recollect an incident that happened recently, one that involves a good friend of mine. She called and wanted to come over. A few minutes into the conversation, and she huddled closer to me, and with a wet nose, told me about how she made a big mistake and spent a night with a man, someone who wasn't her guy.
Apparently, she told me that they had gone out for a drink and to shake a leg, and things just went from handshakes to holding hands to hold-what-you-can.
I put my arms around her and told her not to think much about it, and that it was history (though I didn't tell her that history has a good way of repeating itself now and then). An hour later, she seemed to be feeling a lot better.
We chatted a bit, and she decided to take off. We hugged at the door and she gave me a big grin and waved. “Thank you so much, Laura, God knows how guilty I was feeling until you made me feel better…”
What?! Now that upset me. When did guilt creep into the picture? Was she here with me, only to reassure herself that she was the wounded and shattered one in the picture? She came to me to be reassured that what she did was nothing wrong, and it was all a mistake!
But at which point was that a mistake? She was with that guy for the whole night, and probably days before the inevitable and awaited incident. How could she not have seen what was coming? She had mentioned that she was lost in a haze and didn't know what was happening until it was too late, until the deed was done. I had accepted that statement quietly.
But pretending like she’s this lost puppy who didn't know what was going on, on her own body, and oblivious to everything that was happening all around her, and then calling it a mistake?! That was moronic stupidity, or a lame throw at redemption.
For all the words that she wasted on talking about her true love, her guy and how much she loved him, and how bad a mistake that incident was, she was and is still thinking about no one but herself. She was being, aptly put, selfish. She was tempted to know what it would feel like, to explore opportunities outside the relationship. She wanted to taste the proverbial forbidden fruit. She apparently hadn't given in all these years, while she was going out with her guy, but then, the hopes of orgasms galore and the temptations abound had her knees buckling.
She could call that encounter whatever she wants, temporary amnesia, or carnal mind block, or whatever the heck she wants to call it. But she was being nothing but selfish, and she didn't care about anyone but herself. And the worst part of it all, she was lying to herself, convincing herself that the lie was the eternal truth. And the best part for her, it worked!
She never gave a thought about anything but her feelings, and her stint at redemption. She was being self-centered, but hey, what’s wrong with that? We’re all self-centered people, who care about nothing but our own happiness. History has shown us enough to ratify that claim.
But the nagging issue that’s gnawing my head is the fact that she’s selfish, and she has no idea about it. She’d get back into the arms of her lover, shower him with more love, and remind herself over and over again that it wasn't her fault. She was just a mute spectator in an unrealistic overwhelming event that involved her unwilling and confused body. But think twice about this, was she a sweet doe stuck in a trap unforeseen by her and foreseen by fate, or was she just playing to the tune of her carnal desires?
What she’s done isn't a bad thing. But the fact that it’s so easy to blame circumstances instead of oneself is beyond blood-curdling, it’s the proof of a conscience that doesn't work within the realm of purity anymore. What would you do if you were in her place? Or just about any place where fornication can penetrate and seep in without anyone’s notice, but yours. It would be your little secret, your little hideaway bang. What would you do?
Shubham Gupta
