She said:
Your arrogance makes you bad in bed.
And he said:
Well, you still seem to let me
like you did when you first met me.
And she said:
I only wanted… you know…
and you were quite good-looking.
And he said:
I know… and I know you didn’t
mean it when…
when you said I was bad in bed…
cos I’ve seen the way you shudder
from your toes to your head.
And she said:
Do you think I’m so stupid
that I can’t pretend?
And he said:
Yes, I do…
I do.
There was an awkward silence
of a minute or two.
He looked into the air
and she stared at her shoes,
until she plucked up some courage
and raised up her head,
and she said:
Can you tell me what exactly
you are trying to do?
Can you tell me what exactly
you are trying to prove?
Convince me that I’m stupid,
I’ll come running to you?
Well, ain’t that the truth? Cos I do…
I do…
I do.
She said:
Your passive aggression
really screws with my head.
And he said:
______
Till she said:
I hope you don’t expect to get in my bed again.
And he said:
You know as well as me
that it’s a matter of when.
Don’t pretend, I’m your last chance
or you’ll end up on the shelf.
And she said:
You’ve really got a knack of knowing how to offend.
And he said:
I know…
I do…
I do.
There was an awkward silence
of an hour or two.
He switched on the telly for something to do.
She went into the kitchen to dry off her eyes,
then she returned to the room,
and she said:
You should have left here
about an hour ago,
you know it’s half past ten,
you know it’ll happen again…
we’ll end up in bed,
and then I’ll wake up in the morning,
and I’ll feel like nothing…
and you’ll walk out that door
with that smug expression…
like you’re number one
cos you nailed me again…
it’s like a nail in the coffin of my self-respect…
of my self-esteem…
look what you’re doing to me…
your arrogance makes you bad in bed…
your arrogance makes you bad in bed…
your arrogance makes you bad in bed.
Well, that crack about his arrogance
had dented his pride.
The challenge was set:
tonight he’d show her the night of her life!
And the less said
about that night in her bed,
the better.
The less said
about that night in her bed,
the better.
The less said about that night
in her bed, the better?
Four years on
she’s stood at the church.
She sees the aisle.
She sees the altar.
And she sees him.
And it makes her think:
I’ll alter him.
A few moments later,
a song and a sermon,
and she’s uttered the words,
bound herself till death
to honour and serve,
because she said
(as one in twenty women said when asked),
she said that she had been raped,
not by a stranger,
not by a friend,
but by somebody other;
she said that she had been raped…
by her lover.
She said:
I do.