Freud Was Right

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Sophocles.  Freud.  Even Jim Morrison knew it.  Mother I want to fuck you, but only metaphorically.  You meet a woman and she feels like home.  The both of you have no plan for long-term commitment, just something casual.  Your pheromones match.  The way she speaks.  Her body language.  The way she fits perfectly when you spoon.  Give it no name, but say things like, “I really feel a connection with you.” In the middle of the night, naked, clinging, sweating in bed.

Months go by.  Bring her by your work, and don’t know how to introduce her.  She is your girlfriend, of course.  You officially ask her that night, sweaty and intertwined.  Obviously, yes.  Talk about not knowing how to introduce her, and how the both of you have been playing it cool.  On New Years Eve, she’ll say, “You want to say it?”  And you both say it. “I love you.” You kiss and laugh.

Only later do you realize how similar she is to your mother.  About the same height.  Dark complexion and brown hair.  The same smoldering temper.  She gives you a hard time the same, like when you blush when you make a really dirty joke.  “You’re turning all red.  Oh, you’re so cute.”  And just like your mother, you cuddle with her.  Your mother’s soft breasts suckled you and held you close with love.  And what adult—regardless of gender or orientation—doesn’t find the idea of a warm breast soothing.  Imagine being a baby, cradled and coddled.  Safe and warm.  Loved.  People do ecstasy to feel this unconditional love.

As a child you sat on your mom’s lap in the mornings before elementary school.  She in her comfy chair in the front room, coffee steaming on the wood table next to her.  Now you put your head on your lover’s lap when you’re tired when you’re watching TV.  She soothes your hair, makes you feel safe.  And your dad trained you well.  You were the little helper.  Moving heavy items.  50 pound bags of kitty litter or dog food.  Reaching tall items.  You were a kiddy-do and now you’re a honey-do.  You comfort her too, when she lays her head on your chest and exhales, safe and warm.

But the funny thing is, just like your mom, your girlfriend can get you in trouble.  Especially once you live together.  You must “ask permission” by communicating with your lover that you will have friends over, what you’re doing with your time, or where you’ll be.  Failures of communications turn into arguments.  And since you do or say things that to you seem alright, though based on your lack of communication, you are punished.  You sometimes feel as if your woman is domesticating you.  And she is.  Your girlfriend and your mom have both described you as “clueless” on numerous occasions.  Men just see things differently.

There is no lust in motherly love, as there is with adult relationships.  But the cuddling.  The caring for.  The looking after.  You want to protect her.  Be there for her.  Make her laugh.  And the unsaid eventual goal of most relationships is lifelong companionship and family.  As a child, who helped you when you were sick?  Listened to you when you were sad?  Applauded your success?  Laughed and enjoyed life with you?  Your mom.  Your family.  Now you’re an adult.  Who worries when you take a bike ride after dark?  Mothers you when you are sick?  Wants the best for you and holds you accountable?  Your girlfriend.  Your wife.  Your companion.  You could create a family, and have some dirty-freaky sex.  Women are dichotomous creatures.  You suspect your mom could’ve been a freak.  She likes to shock.  Like on your sister’s birthday dinner, a few years back.  Your sister’s friend asked, “How’d you and Mike meet?”

Your sister said, “It was a blind date.”

“Yeah, we went to a party.” Mom said.

“Really?!” Your sis is shocked, “I thought you went to that 50’s diner in Redondo.”

“That’s what we told you, but we went to a party.” Mom laughed, “And we ended up in the bedroom!” TC mark

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  • http://ethecofem.com Bema

    I'm getting gay-ish advertisements on this website.

    Google knows my secret!

  • RAH

    Cool story.

  • http://ethecofem.com Bema

    Is it wrong that I'm having some hot, Freudian thoughts right now?

    Not about my mother though, that's just gross.

  • http://twitter.com/no_cazador hunter ray

    fr33ky d00d

  • Aelya

    This was really really sweet

  • http://twitter.com/CowboySandtoes Cowboy Santos

    i never had a mother. do step mothers count?

  • jack

    what if you have 2 lesbo moms?????????????

    • http://ethecofem.com Bema

      Electra complex,

      HELLO!

    • http://brianmcelmurry.blogspot.com/ Brian McElmurry

      Depends. Did all 3 of you cuddle simultaneously?

  • Travelcard

    Thanks for this, very interesting.

  • FC

    “Cause every mothers day needs a mothers night, if doin' it is wrong I don't wanna be right..” -Justin Timberlake

  • Gareth Davies

    The first paragraph of this piece is really very beautiful. Kudos.

  • http://twitter.com/rislynsey christopher lynsey

    Good read.

  • http://staugustinian.wordpress.com/ STaugustine

    “Exhibitionist Catalog”

  • http://www.facebook.com/people/Monique-Lemonjelly/100000647651819 Monique Lemonjelly

    This article makes me wanna meet you.Awesomely written.

  • bgttbbgr
  • wwhq95
  • mutyang

    Nice…

  • hhphj23
  • Elle

    This terrifies me.

    Why?

    Because I'm afraid one day (sometime soon, probably) my boyfriend of 5 years will realize I'm exactly like his mother.

  • David

    I have been thinking about this theme a lot lately, reading Freud for class and coming into contact with a German girl with the same birthday as my mom. Thanks for rendering the complex/idea/subject with such eloquence, wit and aplomb! Lovely writing.

    Your mother would be proud.

  • Samantha S

    Great article. I'm not exactly sure why, but this comforted me a great deal. Good writing.

  • fridac2

    When you described the comfort of being warm and safe, putting your head on their chest, I imagined it and felt it.
    I think there is nothing more beautiful than that feeling.
    So at peace and as close to being a child again as we're going to get at this point.

     I hope you write more articles like this.

    • http://brianmcelmurry.blogspot.com/ Brian McElmurry

      thanks :-)

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1135492806 Ischra Centeno

    I loved every sentence of this.

  • Sophia

    I think this definitely works the other way as well. When a man feels like home, when he reminds me of my dad, there’s definitely chemistry.

  • Anonymous

    Validated yet?

    • http://brianmcelmurry.blogspot.com/ Brian McElmurry

      I was super stoked when this was published! Super stoked. But I’ve kind of been depressed for 6-months, so the fleeting ever changing emotions of life have come back to me being kind of depressed. I’m going to get some free therapy through my work though. I loved the comments and the fact people read something I wrote. I wrote the “validate my existence”-thing in my about author as a joke that was kind of true. I think when you create something you’d love someone to read it and relate, and cause some sort of catharsis or thought or entertain a person. I think getting published on TC was sweet because so many people read this. A blessing, I guess. Even though a word like “blessing” maybe uncool. I’ve tried to submit some more writing to places, work on new shorter pieces for the internet and a novel I have maybe 20,000 words that I’ve been writing in notebooks when I get a chance, but feel I can devote all my time to this, but I have a job, a relationship and life just takes so much damn time. Life gets in the way of life. Validation is fleeting, like a drug, sex, a good meal, the peaceful morning air with birds chirping before I get to work in a windowless-room making copies and menial office shit. I feel bitter inside sometimes. Thanks for reading. This was more existentialist rant than response.

      • Anonymous

        I agree with you; it’s difficult to receive gratification from doing something like writing on a daily basis when there’s more often than not, no financial reward.  I don’t even try to explain this to people in fields other than art because the idea of not having received a single check to show for the efforts of your labor seems a little too Pollyanna-ish.  If people don’t commenting on an article I’ve written, I’m going to assume that it wasn’t read or that it was disliked by everyone in Brooklyn. I think you’ll be OK.

  • Anonymous

    I loved this

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