Today felt like a nightmare that I will never be able to wake up from. Not only did I have to know about my husband’s sexual encounters with another woman but I had to experience it. I am supposed to feel in power, like I have control, but that is the last way I feel. He is my husband. Doesn’t that mean he should only be with me?
“Doesn’t that mean he should only be with me?”
I know this is the way that it has to be but there has to be a better way. I can’t seem to shake the feeling of weakness. But then I can’t help but wonder, how must Offred feel? She wants no part in this. The poor girl not only is forced but doesn’t even get to experience love. The sexual encounter is supposed to make us all feel like one being. This is not love making and is not supposed to be rape but if it’s not rape then what is it?
Offred lays between my spread legs, her thighs on either side of me, as I am fully clothed. Her arms are raised and we are connected by our holding hands. I do not hate her for this, I pity her: “This has nothing to do with passion or love or romance or any of those other notions we used to titillate ourselves with. It has nothing to do with sexual desire, at least not for me, and certainly not for Serena” (Atwood 94). I cannot help but “grip Offred’s hands, as if I am the one being fucked, as if I’m in pain” (Atwood 94). It is easy to pretend it is me for just a second but then reality hits. This isn’t fair to me, but this most importantly isn’t fair to her. Why do women have to go through this? Why do we do it?