He tells me he loves me. Maybe he really does. Who, anyway, is to say when we love
and when we do not? Who is to say what we can love and what we cannot? He buys
me flowers and jewelry and nice looking stones, shoes and fruit and other items, and
lines them up before me; and I can see happiness upon him whenever he does this,
though I have never thanked him for his kindness. He does it anyway, despite my
silence, and is carefree when we are together. Is that not love? Is it not the prerogative
of a lover to forgive you your failures and love you, even when you are cold and
quiet, whatever people say? Nearly every day, I sense the excitement in his footsteps
before he comes into the room and sees me, and also in his gestures as he hurries over
to replace my sleeping face with my wakeful face and kiss my eyes, to magically kiss
me awake, as if I am his Snow White and he my prince. Is that not love, this thing that
happens nearly every day? My sleeping face is what I wear when he is not around. It
makes me serene and occasionally, very occasionally, it makes me dream. But my
dreams are always full of him and our bedroom and the time we spend together. That
and the TV are all I know. My dreams, you see, are artificial dreams, and I was not
made for the world outside.
He is a young man, and very thoughtful. He is always asking me questions like, “Are you warm enough?” and “Would you like me to turn the radiator on?” and “Would you like to watch a movie?” and “What will it be tonight?” and “This doesn’t hurt you, does it, Betty?” Betty is my name. He likes to call me by it as often as he can and I think sometimes he hopes for a reaction, a word or a nod or just a flicker of a spidery eyelash. It does not matter though. True reactions from true people are unpredictable, frightening or demeaning. Reactions can do him great harm. Not being responsive to anything is a predictable comfort; it gives him the chance to bend my lifeless mouth to his ear and create his own answers. I have never said an unkind word to him, and he has never said an unkind word to me. I cannot offend him by being aloof or pulling away from his needy embrace. Our relationship is immaculate and free from the usual strains. He has never been truly disappointed in me. Sometimes he pulls the blankets up to my neck or puts on a bad movie or lays me into a position that makes my joints creak. But I do not mind any of this. I never get too hot or cold, I never object to his choice of movie and nothing ever hurts me. As long as he imagines I am well and happy, and that I care for him, this is what matters, because this is what makes it true.
My boyfriend is the focal point of me. To help you understand what I mean I will brush over what happened yesterday.
I rested in bed all day with my sleeping face on. My day only really begins when he comes home from work and enters the bedroom. At around six o’clock (I am a good judge of time) he came home. He took his shoes off in the hall and washed his face and hands in the bathroom and checked his post in the kitchen. I know all of his sounds by heart. Then he came up the stairs and turned the handle of the bedroom door. This is his favorite moment of the day, and so it is my favorite moment of the 2 day also. The first thing he did when he came in was turn off the electric blanket. He was stepping very quietly so as not to wake me up, and even without looking I could tell that his mouth was set into a grin. He gently peeled my sleeping face off and put my wakeful face on. Now I could see that he was indeed smiling and that he wanted very much for me to be awake. “Rise and shine, sleepy girl!” he said as he leaned down to kiss my newly opened eyes. He was happier than usual, so I assumed that we would be having intercourse later on that night. He stood up straight and said, “I got you these on the way home.” He produced a bunch of chrysanthemums from behind his back and beamed.
Read more: at http://www.theshortstory.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/I-am-a-Sex-Doll-by-Ralph-Johnston.pdf
Note: A sex doll is a type of sex toy in the size and shape of a sexual partner for aid in masturbation.
He is a young man, and very thoughtful. He is always asking me questions like, “Are you warm enough?” and “Would you like me to turn the radiator on?” and “Would you like to watch a movie?” and “What will it be tonight?” and “This doesn’t hurt you, does it, Betty?” Betty is my name. He likes to call me by it as often as he can and I think sometimes he hopes for a reaction, a word or a nod or just a flicker of a spidery eyelash. It does not matter though. True reactions from true people are unpredictable, frightening or demeaning. Reactions can do him great harm. Not being responsive to anything is a predictable comfort; it gives him the chance to bend my lifeless mouth to his ear and create his own answers. I have never said an unkind word to him, and he has never said an unkind word to me. I cannot offend him by being aloof or pulling away from his needy embrace. Our relationship is immaculate and free from the usual strains. He has never been truly disappointed in me. Sometimes he pulls the blankets up to my neck or puts on a bad movie or lays me into a position that makes my joints creak. But I do not mind any of this. I never get too hot or cold, I never object to his choice of movie and nothing ever hurts me. As long as he imagines I am well and happy, and that I care for him, this is what matters, because this is what makes it true.
My boyfriend is the focal point of me. To help you understand what I mean I will brush over what happened yesterday.
I rested in bed all day with my sleeping face on. My day only really begins when he comes home from work and enters the bedroom. At around six o’clock (I am a good judge of time) he came home. He took his shoes off in the hall and washed his face and hands in the bathroom and checked his post in the kitchen. I know all of his sounds by heart. Then he came up the stairs and turned the handle of the bedroom door. This is his favorite moment of the day, and so it is my favorite moment of the 2 day also. The first thing he did when he came in was turn off the electric blanket. He was stepping very quietly so as not to wake me up, and even without looking I could tell that his mouth was set into a grin. He gently peeled my sleeping face off and put my wakeful face on. Now I could see that he was indeed smiling and that he wanted very much for me to be awake. “Rise and shine, sleepy girl!” he said as he leaned down to kiss my newly opened eyes. He was happier than usual, so I assumed that we would be having intercourse later on that night. He stood up straight and said, “I got you these on the way home.” He produced a bunch of chrysanthemums from behind his back and beamed.
Read more: at http://www.theshortstory.net/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/I-am-a-Sex-Doll-by-Ralph-Johnston.pdf
Note: A sex doll is a type of sex toy in the size and shape of a sexual partner for aid in masturbation.
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