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From: "Zuleika Zull" <zuleika@cheerful.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Men!  (FM nosex)  Zuleika Zull (correct version)
Date: Thu, 23 Aug 2001 16:10:03 -0400
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MF nosex

Thank you for pausing for a moment and letting me touch you. 

All my love,
Zuleika Zull 
=============

Men!
====


Mark just walked out of my life.  Why didn't I see it coming?

Can you see my tears?  Can you feel my bewildered pain?

I can.

* * * *

"Zu?  You writing one of your glimpses into our lives?  Again?"

"Yes, Mark."  Wait.  Why did he call me 'Zu'?  He hasn't done that
since...  Before we agreed to get married.  It's always been 'ZeeZee'.

"Got a minute?"  He sounded far too casual.

"Ok."  I sighed.  I'd just found a way to keep the story funny and
now this.  I thought Mark knew better than to interrupt me when I was
writing.

When I shifted to make room for him he held back.  "No, Zu.  Not
this time.  I have some things I want to ask you and I want serious
answers for a change.  Isn't that what we agreed on before we got
married?  No hiding from each other?"

That was the second time he'd called me 'Zu'.  I turned to look at
him.  Yes, it was Mark.  The smile was Mark's.  Even the upward quirk
of his lips when he smiled was Mark's.  But when I got to his eyes...
Those weren't Mark's eyes.  Mark _never_ cried.  Men don't cry.  Mark
never cried.  He'd said I did it enough for both of us so he didn't
need to anymore.

That was when I'd fallen in love with him and asked him if we could
get married.  Mark said because of me, he would never have to cry
again.

He promised!

So why is he crying?

Deep, deep down, so deep I didn't want to admit it, I knew the man
sitting in front of me wasn't my Mark.  What happened?  When did this
stranger take over his body?

"Yes, honey.  That's what we promised each other."

He looked away and then back at me.  "Good.  I was wondering if you
would remember that."

I jerked as if he'd slapped me.  Me?  Me forget a promise like that?
How  _dare_ he ask me such a question!

I made my voice chill with my indignation.  "Ask your questions."

He nodded.  "Zu, what makes a story 'funny'?"

My jaw dropped in surprise.  "Mark?  Are you serious?  Everyone
knows when something is funny or not."

"I've never been more serious.  If everyone knows, then you should
have no trouble answering my question.  So, why are you evading me?"

I bit my lip so hard I figured it must have been bleeding.  What did
he want from me?  Where was he going with his crazy question?  Why
was he hurting me like this?  Why did his question hurt me?

"Mark, a story is funny because it makes something look ridiculous. 
A situation.  An attitude.  Something like that."

Did I give him the answer he wanted?

I must have because he smiled a little more openly.  "I'll accept
that for now.  So, how do you make your stories funny?"

"Mark, you know that.  I take our everyday lives and twist things a
bit to get people to realize just how odd some of the everyday things
are if you look at them in the right way."

"So do you think that a story, to be funny, has to have some truth
in it?"

"Of course!  How else are people going to be able to find something
they can relate to?"

"I was afraid you'd say that.  I think you're right."  He bowed his
head for a bit and when he brought it up again, I could see fresh
tears.  "Zu?  How much, and what kind of truth is in your stories? 
Don't you realize that by always picturing me as something of a
buffoon, not quite bright, you cheapen me?  And what about how you
portray yourself?  Are you really as arrogant and blind as you make
yourself out to be?"

I stared at him in shock.

"ZeeZee?  Haven't you figured out that most of your humor has a
victim?  A victim who _hurts_ every time you write about him the way
you do?"

"Damnit ZeeZee!  How much _truth_ about the way you see us is in
your stories?"  While he fought to get himself under control, I
shivered.

"Zu?  I never thought I'd be saying this to you.  Which one of us do
you love more?  Me?  Those stories?  The ego boost when people tell
you what a funny writer you are?"  He took a deep breath and sighed. 
I was surprised when he stood up and looked at me sadly.  "Zu, you
better figure out how much and what kind of truth you're going to
write about us."  He walked to the door to the den and put his hand
on the knob to pull it closed behind him as he left.  Just before it
softly latched, he paused and spoke without looking back at me. 
"Because if what you've written so far is the truth you are going to
keep seeing in our lives, I'm going to file for divorce.  You'll know
where to find me when you decide."

Mark walked out of my life.

Can you see my tears?  Can you feel my pain?  Isn't this a
ridiculous situation?  Why isn't it funny?  How come I'm not laughing?

"Mark?"  I can't help it.  "Mark?"  It's a mere whisper.

"This isn't funny, Mark.  Not one bit!"  I scream my rage even
though I know he can't hear me.

But, I deserved it.  Deep, deep down, I know I deserved what he did
to me, to us.  That makes what happened hurt me even more.

What am I going to do about it?

Something in me says I shouldn't do anything at all.  I don't feel
like I've done anything wrong.  All I've done is entertain people a
bit.  I've tried to bring a litle bit of joy into their lives.  Can
that be so wrong?

I answer my own question.  There must be _something_ wrong with what
I've been doing because Mark just left me.  No, he didn't just leave.
He _hurt_ me before he left.

Mark left.  For the first time since we got married, I can't ask him
to help me explore the options.  He not here to help me discover the
consequences of any decision I make.

Wait.  Mark left.  Isn't that a consequence?  Yes, it is.  Even in
my current confused state of mind, that much is clear.

When did I make the decision to drive him away?  I don't remember
making it.  I must have made it or he wouldn't have left.  My mind
keeps going in that circle: 'Mark left.  I must have decided to drive
him away.  When did I make that decision?'

"Mark?"  I sob quietly.  "Help me."

I lean forward and put my head in my hands.  "Please help me.  You
promised to help me.  Just like I promised to help you."  Eyes
closed, I quietly weep and repeat my silent plea for his help.  I
plea for help that I _know_ will never be there again.

Mark left me.

I imagine his strong fingers gently kneading my tense shoulders and
neck.  In my vision I can hear his deep, masculine voice gently
chiding me in that special way he has that cuts through all my
defenses when we know I've been exceptionally silly and not left
myself any way to simply apologize and let the matter drop.  "ZeeZee?
I'm not asking you stop writing.  All I want is for you to grow up a
bit and _really_ tell it like it is.  _Good_ stories don't need
victims.  I want you to stop hurting us by lying about us."

"Is that too much to ask of the woman I love?"

"No, Mark."  My voice firms with resolve.  "I love you too much to
keep hurting you once you tell me I've hurt you."

Eyes closed, still in that 'vision', I feel his lips brush my cheek.
"Good.  That's my ZeeZee.  That's the woman I fell in love with and
married."

"Now, let's forget about all this nonsense of crying.  I've fixed us
a light lunch and while we eat, you can tell me all about the next
story you are going to write."

I felt his hand grab mine and he tugged gently.  Tugged?  "Mark?  I
thought you left.  You told me I would have to go find you!"

He chuckled gently as I stood up. "Oh, Zee.  I told you that you'd
know where to find me once you decided.  Did you _really_ forget that
since we got married, whenever one of us has needed to make a major
life decision, the other has _always_ been right where we belonged? 
We've always been there for each other--no matter what?

I looked down at my feet and cried.  "Yes.  I _did_ forget."

He lifted my head gently and kissed me before he pulled me close. 
"I thought you had.  Now you know how alone I've felt when you write.
Every time you start writing, you become the 'ZeeZee' in the story
and treat me like she treats her 'Mark'."

"Mark?  Have I really?"  I was stunned.  I thought my writing was
something that wouldn't affect us.  How wrong had I been?  

I started to apologize but he kissed me again and then pulled back
slightly.  "Zee.  It's over.  Let's go eat."

"Men!"
=============================

The rest of my stories are at http://storiesonline.net
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