Reverse Domestic Abuse

“My girlfriend beats me, she says I’m sleazy, she says I’m leavin’, and so I cry.”
- Grieves and Type

Dislaimer: I have political Tourette's. Read at your own risk.

I am a girlfriend that beats her boyfriend. Some might call it domestic abuse, but I call it abusive love. I punch arms, bite knuckles, and pull the hair from the chest of my boyfriend. A sadistic way to say, “Bumblebee, I love you.” This morning, dressed in the clothes of my hangover, I sat with a fistful of the tour members, hunched over the breakfast table. Obama 2008. The urge to hurt came creeping from underneath my legs goading me to pinch the muscles on the backs of his arms. I squeezed my eyes shut and balled both fists, tapping them against the curve of the table.

My boyfriend rolled his eyes towards me and whispered through locked teeth, “No hitting baby.” I shoved my hands between my thighs and clenched them closed. “Fine, I won’t.”

Each morning Ryan awakes to the feel of my fingers frolicking in the forest that grows on his chest. Some men would be turned on by a morning grooming, but not the man who shares my bed. He only looks down into the dark hair sprayed across his torso, speaking words of reprimand and punishment if I should pull at the hairs curling from his skin. When I kiss the tips of his calloused fingers he harshly says “No,” with the unbending tone of a strict father disciplining his unruly toddler.

I reserve physical abuse only for those I hold the greatest feeling, but my explanation falls on deaf ears after I have pulled the trimmed hairs of his beard and giggled into clasped hands. Ryan counts a dead arm, bruised shoulder muscles, and teeth marks among his girlfriend inflicted wounds. I don’t beat him because he cheats, because he spends my money, or because he flirts with fan members. Obama 2008. I beat him because I have not the means to misappropriate funds needed for the down payment on an airplane directed sign. I bite the sides of his wrist because I cannot stream my love across the friendly skies. Unfortunately, Ryan believes a muzzle and handcuffs would be a better solution to my aversion of non-violence. My affinity for violence and aggression, although brought on by love, is not embraced.

The people’s court will be pleased to know that I do not beat animals, nor do I beat small children, but only males in the age group of 23-26, and to whom I also profess my undying love. My love for family pets and small children is expressed through “the squeeze.” Since it is illegal and immoral to punch, pull, or bite young children and helpless animals, I squeeze them. A squeeze requires the use of my arms and a tightening of the muscles in both. Please take note of a quote by my childhood karate teacher: “dynamite comes in small packages.” May the jury please make note of the “squeezing ability” of compact individuals. Obama 2008. Additionally, a squeeze requires my lower lip to be pinned down by my front teeth, and a closing of my eyes. Once these requirements have been the met “the squeeze” can commence and the child or animal can be loved.

I frequently squeeze my siblings and neighbor’s puppies. Whether it be a beating or a squeeze, my love shall be spread.