The Blowfish Blog

Couple’s Couch: Invaded

It rained in San Francisco this week, the type of rain that the city’s piss poor sewer system cannot contain. The result was a mini flood in the back of my house, up under the carpet of my one-room studio. The flood not only left me with a huge mess to clean it, it also led to the invasion of my privacy.

Invaded is a strong word. It reeks of powerful, negative emotions. It is the kind of word that makes the bottom of my stomach twist with dread. But that is how I feel: invaded.

In this particular case, my landlord and his lovely, conservative wife were the main warriors in the fight against the flood. While I was out working in the evening, the pair let themselves into my apartment and, upon seeing the water licking at the bottom of bookshelves and semi-expensive furniture, took it upon themselves to move my possessions to higher ground (bless their hearts). In order to do so however, they needed to hand-move my entire erotica collection, tens of books with words like Fuck, Cunt, Masturbation, Dyke and Whore splayed across the covers and spines, and remove the drawers one at a time from my sex toy chest to then push the bulk of the cabinet to the other side of the room. They must have gotten an eyeful.

So, it was an accidental invasion. It bites nonetheless. I am immensely bothered that someone with whom I am not comfortable sharing my sexuality went through my sexual belongings. They “saw” me. I’m angry because I am embarrassed.

When I got to thinking about the event, it dawned on me that the feelings that come up when I picture my landlord’s wife pulling open a drawer packed full of anal toys and half-used lube bottles and quite similar to the feelings I get when someone walks in on me having sex.

As someone who makes a living telling her sexual stories, I generally feel just fine opening my bedroom door to the world and inviting them in. Come! Look at my toys, my sheets, my shackles! I’d be happy to tell you how this feels, how this works, how to give this a shot! But when the door is opened without my permission, when someone gets a look that I did not condone, I feel invaded.

When we get walked in on, we suddenly are shoved into the position of seeing our world, our actions, our private choices through the eyes of someone else. We may like to imagine ourselves one way (a somewhat kinky and adventurous lesbian couple with strong a understanding of boundaries) but, upon discovery, our invaders may see us as something wholly different (non-monogamous, sadistic sluts with lewd proclivities that should pay more rent?).

We are asked to consider what we must look like mid-coitus to our five-year-old child who wanders into our unlocked bedroom door in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare and want their parents. What do they think we are doing? What kind of people do we appear to be?

Those of us who live, or have lived, with roommates must figure out a polite way of sharing space with other sexual people and listen to their sex through walls that are never quite thick enough to block out moans and bed springs. We must negotiate what they know about our sex and how they make sense of us in light of these discoveries.

Considering how others see us sexually is uncomfortable.

Being caught vulnerable and unguarded, with “our pants down” if you will, gives the authority of insight to the audience. We no longer have jurisdiction over what they make of us. We’ve lost our power.

Why is power so important? When I think about the preparations I go through in my day to make sure than I maintain control over myself, over my appearance, the impressions I leave upon others, and so on, I’m struck my how much power I wish to maintain over how I am seen. How I am seen helps define who I am.

I know that being “seen” by my landlord’s wife makes me extremely uncomfortable. I know that when my mother walked in on me and a high school lover half naked, being seen made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out again. At the same time, being truly seen by my lover makes me strong and confident. Being seen with permission boosts my self-image.

What does it take for you to invite a lover to “see” you? What are the rewards for giving them such a powerful gift? Have you had to deal of the consequences of that gift? How have you dealt with the invasions of your life and the secrets you keep for only yourself?

I think there is a lot to learn about ourselves from questions such as these. And there is an endless amount we can learn from one another if we take the time to understand our lover’s and friend’s answers as well.

— Rebekah Skoor, MA

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This entry was posted on Thursday, 17 January 2008 at 12:00 am and is filed under Advice. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.