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| Part 5? here goes... we get to find out more about tatiana!!! |
| 06.04.04 (8:45 am) [edit] |
And (maybe not so) coincidently, ever since Tatiana was a little girl, she wanted love, perfect love. Even her mother admits, “When Tati was younger she knew exactly how things would be. She would be a doctor and travel around the world and dance and search for all things passionate in life. And her boy, the one she fell in love with, would inexorably be one of those things passionate. His aspirations and interests didn’t have to fully match hers—that’d be too boring— but they did need to complement her quite well. And she would need space from him. She has always been her own woman, yes woman, and he’d need to respect that. Because she requires social, intellectual, emotional, and physical intimacy with many people, and he would need to understand that her proclivities have nothing to do with him, or her love for him, rather, they are the part of what makes her special and unique. And he’ll love her for that. She knows it. ”
Tatiana understood, even at a young age, that by flaunting her beauty or even revealing it at all, she obtained extraordinary power over most boys and some girls. She knew, for instance, that by touching Greg lightly on the shoulder, or batting her eyelashes at him, that he would imagine fucking her later that night, and that even in that moment, he would do anything for her, or at least anything for what she represented: the possibility of beauty conquered.
And because she knew that most boys and some girls would sacrifice lots, maybe too much, to ‘have’ her beauty, or even imagine ‘having’ it, she learned never to compromise her own desires with others. She didn’t need to. If she wanted something, she asked for it, and more often than not, much more often, she’d get it, if for nothing more than for beauty’s sake.
Her boyfriend, whom she had dated through most of college, the one with the eye-catching cleft chin and broad shoulders, was one of the most desired boys on campus. He was strong, athletic, artistic, musical, and, according to his pastor, “a very good guy.” Yet, none of these qualities “really did it” for her. “He lets me go elsewhere to fill the rest of my needs,” she once admitted to another boy while holding him closely at night.
A cheater? Another fucked up love story? Not quite. Don’t rush to judgment.
Even then, she admitted that she was socially, intellectually, emotionally, and physically promiscuous. And she will tell you, as she told Greg while innocently crossing her legs on that park bench, that “there are two types of promiscuous girls. There are those that have a set ideal of perfect beauty (love) and search for it in everything they do, in every person they’re with. And there are those that imagine there is the possibility for perfect beauty (love) in everything they do, in every person they are with. I am, of course, one of the latter.”
Wait. You, my friend, have no right to make arbitrary judgments. You don’t yet know what promiscuity means… for her. And you know, as well as I do, that it’s impossible to judge a girl by what she says if you don’t know what she means. So let’s find out.
Promiscuity, for her, back then, had no more sexual connotations than anything else universal. “It’s the act of being indiscriminate with people and things in life,” she might have said. “And it has nothing to do with faithfulness.” Because she would have argued, back then, that “despite my sleeping with boys, I was no less than completely faithful.”
She doesn’t fuck them,” her mother once said to her stepfather. “She sleeps with them, sure, but only because she needs somebody different to hold sometimes. She’s a very tactile girl. But she would never cheat. She just needs to feel touched, loved. And there’s nothing wrong with that. We all need that feeling sometimes. ”
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