Month: September 2013

The Help: Sex with the Maid

Today while dropping a friend’s nephews off at home, I met their maid. A simple woman,really. Bald, dark skinned, she was in a torn t-shirt and track pants. No one worth remembering. Or at least I thought so until she picked up the toddler and turned around to walk into the house. 


My first thought at seeing her behind was “Fuck. Hey! How does the husband of this household function?!” after which I reminded myself that not all men cheat, while still staring at her butt in disbelief and slight admiration. I watched her walk away and kind of understood why a man may get the desire to sleep with the maid.

On the other hand, I realized, not all men who sleep with the Help could sock it down to simple Lust.

Society usually blames the woman for her husband’s cheating. There’s always something she’s lacking that made the husband stray.

You could be the breadwinner, cooking everyday, bathing the kids, washing the dishes, paying school fees, sweating wine and feeding him chocolate from your cleavage, and when that man cheats, society will look at you and say “Sure, whatever, she did all that. But she didn’t help him put on his shoes that morning. It was her fault. She should be ashamed. What did all that hard work get her anyway? She should have known her place.”

And that’s what those deep in The Patriarchy think.

A woman’s place is in the kitchen and if not there, wherever her husband wants her to be. 

If you aren’t there, you probably deserve to be treated badly because you’re a disobedient slag. 

Working class women often get the worst of it, it seems. 

In a society that is still mostly misogynistic and patriarchal, the woman who steps out of the kitchen/bedroom and decides to be more than Somebody’s Something is a sell-out. To other women, women who don’t share her views/drive, she thinks she’s better than them. How dare she? Who does she think she is? Is she saying that THEY are slaves? Stupid? Fuck her.


And so when Working Woman’s husband strays, maybe even leaves her for the maid, in their eyes, she deserved it because she wasn’t “playing her role”.

I began to wonder, assuming, as a working class woman, you marry a man who appreciates the path you’ve chosen, and you end up with a rather hectic workload, is it possible for the man that you settled with, no matter how open minded he may have been in the beginning, to cheat with the maid, and if so, why?

Simple Attraction

We begin to get accustomed to those we spend time with. We expect our partners to not fraternize with the Help because they’re employees and should be treated as such. But frankly speaking, it’s quite possible for the two to develop feelings for one another, whether lustful or otherwise. And in such a situation, you, as the woman of the household, have nothing to do with that. It’s easy to assume it wouldn’t have happened if you’d spent every waking moment with your partner. But who knows?


Basic desire/appreciation for people who take care of us

We grow fond of people who make us comfortable. Many men, with a patriarchal mindset or otherwise, might gravitate towards the maid simply because they feel cared for by her. 


On the other hand, assuming these don’t apply, we get what seems to be the typical scenario. It’s a power thing. This man has a servile woman at his beck and call who gets paid to attend to him and he may not know or care that there are lines in that relationship/situation. He’s attracted to the maid not because of her person, but simply because he has power over her and in his eyes, can control her. 

Some maids are receptive but more often than not, they aren’t and they end up getting raped and remaining silent. Or adding Sex With The Sir to their list of chores to receive just a bit more at month end. 


Your Maid’s a Vixen

Or, you were unlucky and hired a vixen. One who made it a point to know your husband’s underwear size and schedule before she knew where the washing machine was.  And in such a situation, I can only hope you have an honest husband who’ll tell you what’s happening and not one who views the situation and sees an opportunity to make his porn fantasies come true.



On Love, Fear and Courage

The thing about falling in love is just that..You fall. Truly loving someone is not a calculated procedure that can be stopped with a thought or ignored when it suits you. Whether you let yourself or not, you drift into a situation that is, often, more than you think you can handle. 

The older you get, the harder it may be to love, or LET yourself love. We all have stories and vivid memories of heartbreaks. Songs we skip, names we avoid and numbers possibly yet to be deleted. Break ups are more than unfriending and blocking, no more texts and phone calls. You have to remove a person from your Life. Stash away the memories, pretend you no longer care until it’s true, and do it all gracefully. You drink and run the risk of drunk texting, you cry and chastise yourself for not being over it yet, 

And after all that, you remember it all.

The empty promises, the disappointment. That eventually, the Good was followed by a shitload of Bad and Embarrassing. 





And then? 

We clam up. It’s easier to be jaded than care and risk it like that. 

While discussing the possibility of falling in love, a friend said “No. You can’t. That’s not you. You think it’s stupid. You don’t believe in love.” And the thing is, I do. Probably a bit too much.

I have a Love/Hate relationship with Love. It’s a weird “I love you so much I need to leave you because if not you’ll kill me” kind of vibe. Love engulfs me and I lose sense of reality. I love recklessly and passionately and because I know this, and know that not a lot of people can deal with it, I try not to do it. 

Here’s the thing about Love: Most of us have no bloody idea what’s going on. We don’t know what we really want, most of us know what we THINK we should want. We don’t accept people as they are, we don’t accept ourselves as we are. Relationships have become closets where we go to feel safe and have company and have sex, maybe occasionally be vulnerable, and most of us disappear as easily as we appear. 

We lack stability. 

We lack commitment. 

We lack certainty.

We lack comfort, and know not the meaning of the word “honesty”.

We avoid vulnerability.

And I know this. I also know that I am absolutely terrified of being vulnerable. 

And with that revelation comes the truth that I cannot expect a certain level of intimacy without vulnerability. 

And I wonder if Life is constantly about being strong and overcoming fears and insecurities. I know Life, Living, involves action, but nobody tells you how appealing it is to be stagnant because you’re terrified of messing up, the older you get. 



Changes: On Depression, Choices and Suicide

“I see no changes, wake up in the morning and I ask myself:
“Is life worth living? Should I blast myself?”..” – Tupac, Changes

Over the years, the topic of suicide has mostly remained taboo, with even those who choose to discuss it expressing rather mediocre feelings about it.

“Why would someone choose to do that? There’s so much to live for.”

“Suicide is selfish.”

“It’s weak.”

And for a while, I understood how they felt. I honestly to a certain degree still do. But I can’t say I share those sentiments.

One never really knows what depression feels like until they’re in it. It’s more than sadness, it’s more than not being happy at having had a bad day, it’s more than a week filled with unfortunate events.

Depression engulfs you. It leaves you feeling worthless, powerless and useless and trying to explain that to people who will only respond with a “Cheer up, look at the bright side” aggravates everything.

I stopped trying to explain it to people who would suggest that maybe I should just get high.

Maybe if I wrote about it it would be better.

Maybe I should just take a nap.

Pray about it.

Simply, cheer up.

I feel like it must be understood that if a person comes to you with certain issues, you should probably appreciate the effort it took. They reached out to you. I could just as well continue to crumble inside my own head but if I TRIED to come to you, then I probably trust you with my issues and my shame, and that’s a lot.

Depression isn’t trivial. It’s not as simple as “I’ll eat a cookie and I’ll be fine.”

For some it’s to do with chemical imbalances in the brain, hormones, trauma, but I couldn’t tell you why it happens, if it’s a combination of the three, more, or none.

All I know is it does. And most times, it’s like sitting through a very long appointment you never wanted to be there for anyway.

And suicidal thoughts come with the territory.

A couple of attempts if you’re brave or tired enough.

And when you’re going through it, you don’t give too much of a damn about everyone else. In that moment, it’s about you, and you feel like you are failing yourself, failing at Life.

Of course we take into consideration how our loved ones may feel. They’ll be hurt. But pain and grief pass. People die all the time and most of us feel and know, it’ll pass.

While discussing it with a friend the other day, I told him the only reason I hadn’t killed myself yet was because even at my lowest, I know chances are, I might just be okay one day. There’s that 7% of Hope. Sometimes, it’s not what you’re going through, it’s the fact that you’re going through it, again, that threatens to send you over the edge.

And he told me he intends to leave sometime soon.

I didn’t attempt to dissuade him.

And I’m not sure if that makes me a bad friend or whatever, but I do know this:

It’s unfair for us to keep people here who honestly cannot continue with Life. Will we miss them? Yes. I know I’m personally not prepared should he honestly decide to commit suicide but that would be a decision that he makes, for himself, regarding his Life.

It’s selfish for us to want to keep people here when most of us don’t understand how hard it is for them.

Sometimes antidepressants don’t work.

Usually, motivational books are absolute rubbish.

And no, talking about it doesn’t always help.

For some people, Life is like this:

We’ve walked into a room.  We meet a lot of people and get along with some. We go through some shit in this room. And eventually, some want to leave earlier than others. No amount of drinks or chit chat will pick up their mood.  They want to go. They may even NEED to go. And what are we to do?

I think, respect their decision, whether we like it or not.

It’s not about us at the end of the day.

And sometimes you can’t be someone’s hero.