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Extraction Summary
5
People
0
Organizations
4
Locations
3
Events
2
Relationships
5
Quotes
Document Information
Type:
Manuscript / personal narrative / evidence
File Size:
Summary
This document appears to be a page from a memoir, manuscript, or personal statement (marked with Bates stamp HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018455). The narrator reflects on a complex, pain-focused relationship with a man named Richard, her psychological state regarding BDSM desires, and her recovery after leaving Chicago. It references a past traumatic or significant event involving a man in 2003.
People (5)
| Name | Role | Context |
|---|---|---|
| Narrator | Author/Speaker |
First-person narrator ('I') reflecting on a past BDSM relationship, leaving Chicago, and personal psychology.
|
| Richard | Subject of narrative |
Described as a 'sadist', 'demon', and 'idol'. Had a BDSM relationship with the narrator. Lived near the narrator.
|
| Unnamed Woman ('she') | Speaker |
Quoted in the first paragraph regarding lovers vs. people for inflicting pain.
|
| Early Boyfriend | Past partner |
Person the narrator confessed a 'dark current' to.
|
| Man from 2003 | Past figure |
Referenced as 'the man who'd gone after me in 2003'.
|
Timeline (3 events)
Locations (4)
| Location | Context |
|---|---|
|
City the narrator left before 'piecing myself back together'.
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|
|
The waterfront
|
Location the narrator and Richard walked back from.
|
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Richard's apartment
|
Located at an intersection where the narrator also lived.
|
|
Narrator's apartment
|
Located at the same intersection as Richard's.
|
Relationships (2)
Narrative describes a relationship based on BDSM, pain, and distance. Narrator calls him a 'sadist'.
Narrator recalls a conversation with him about her 'dark current'.
Key Quotes (5)
"He was a demon, an idol. He hardly felt like a person to me."Source
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Quote #1
"It was after I left Chicago that I really started piecing myself back together."Source
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018455.jpg
Quote #2
"Richard invested a lot of self-conception in being a sadist, and he was so distant -- I couldn't imagine relating to him as a lover."Source
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Quote #3
"It wasn't just the man who'd gone after me in 2003."Source
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Quote #4
"In those long-repressed fictions of slavery and pain, I recognized my newly-acknowledged desires."Source
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018455.jpg
Quote #5
Full Extracted Text
Complete text extracted from the document (3,036 characters)
to mind. "I guess there's no reason you would know this," she'd said, "but it's fairly common for people to have one person who's their lover, and a separate person for inflicting pain."
I thought about that, and about Richard saying, "A lot of crap comes out when you do this stuff." I considered the maxims that tell us that the opposite of love isn't actually hate, and how much time I'd spent encouraging myself to hate him. Finally, I admitted that the only term I had to cover this depth of emotion was "love"... but that couldn't make it feel like the right word. Then again, it wasn't exactly "hate", either.
He was a demon, an idol. He hardly felt like a person to me.
I didn't vocalize any of this. Coming back from the waterfront, we arrived at the intersection where Richard would go to his apartment and I'd return to mine. An awkward pause ensued: I was leaving in a few days, and wouldn't be alone with him again. Watching him, I wondered if he was thinking about asking me over, or was looking for an excuse not to. I looked away.
"Goodnight," I said. Walking home, I wished I felt strong.
* * *
It was after I left Chicago that I really started piecing myself back together. My anger drained away quickly, as if an infected wound had been lanced. Perhaps I found my strength under the scab. I figured that maybe all this did identify something about my personality, but it didn't tell the whole story. Even now, I could be independent, rational, and feminist, with self-esteem and integrity. Right? Right.
It was impossible to deny that the desires were real -- and when I allowed myself to focus on them, I didn't try. Ruminating on my past, I recalled heart-twisting details that put everything in a certain compelling context. It wasn't just the man who'd gone after me in 2003. Wincing, I remembered childhood fantasies: I'd compulsively written and drawn brutal dreams until, at some confused middle-school point, their horror came home to me and I recoiled. In those long-repressed fictions of slavery and pain, I recognized my newly-acknowledged desires.
One conversation I'd had with an early boyfriend rang in my head. "There's a dark current inside me," I'd told him. Self-consciously, I'd averted my eyes at my own melodrama. "I don't know how to be with you, when I feel it." I hadn't exactly been trying to leave him, but I'd needed something more.
The last dream I remember of Richard didn't involve any pain at all: he just kissed me. Awakening, I felt a melancholy pang. Richard invested a lot of self-conception in being a sadist, and he was so distant -- I couldn't imagine relating to him as a lover. And I knew our relationship (such as it was) would never have started without BDSM as a focus. Previous to that night at the outdoor party, he'd hardly registered on my romantic radar, and we had little in common in terms of how we dealt with relationships.
Still, for a moment I wished -- unreasonably, I knew -- that I could have fallen straightforwardly in love.
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_018455
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