Because you want it.
Not because I am a sadist (I’m not).
In fact, aside from the joy we share when we play spanky, floggy, whippy games together, I could spend my whole life not hitting anyone.
And be happy.
However, because I love you, your happiness contributes to mine.
Your needs are important to me.
What you crave matters.
So I will hurt you.
Because that is your happy place. Your floaty place. Your catharsis place. Your dancing-among-the stars-as-they-whirl-around-you place. Your expiation place. Your after-it’s-all-done-I’m-peacefully-centered place.
And I will join you there, in that place.
As you sometimes join me in my geeky place as I try to work out a complex UI. As you traipse from antique shop to antique shop, with me in my hunting-for-that-thing-I’ll-know-it-when-I-see-it place. As you go rollerskating with me in my nostalgia place. As you bring me flowers and romance me, court me and pamper me in my I-need-to-feel-your-adoration place.
I’ve heard, “I can’t beat so-and-so like I used to. I love them too much.”
I just can’t comprehend.
I don’t beat anyone I don’t love, at least a little. I don’t hit someone to see that look of taking it, holding on, handling it, and suffering unless I adore them. I don’t beat anyone hard, until they weep and cry and break down for me unless I am deeply, wonderfully, crazily in love with them.
Because it’s not about me. It’s about you. It’s about us.
I hurt you because I love you.
And if you want to just cuddle, I’ll do that, too.