Lovers Anonymous

The shower curtain rod was an iron bar firmly cemented at both ends into the concrete and stone walls. It would easily support my weight and I held it with both hands to steady myself. When I felt the cool water being poured over me I flinched at the unexpected sensation. One pitcher, then another, and another. With each pitcher my body became more attuned to the coolness, and then I felt the warm hands delicately soaping my back. In one hand a bar of soap, the other empty; each hand alternately went over my neck, my arms, and my back; worked down to my butt and down my legs. Straining against the natural desire building inside me, I tried to calm myself by thinking of wind blowing across a field of wheat. Not very effective so I went over my to-do list, but my list consisted of one item: three weeks flat on my back and no pressure on my neck. I had to come up with something better, and fast. My step-father; I imagined him passed out drunk on his bed, which in fact is how he was at that very moment. That worked and I was in control of my body again.
Up to now Mickey hadn't said a word. “Turn around so I can do the front,” she said softly.
Slowly I turned and faced her but I didn’t make eye contact. Countless women had seen me naked but this was different. After all, Mickey was my cousin by marriage; she was family. My dear cousin had agreed to come take care of me and nurse me back to health. My step-father had made the request and her mother had agreed. For several days now she had been feeding me, helping me in and out of bed, and generally waiting on me. All of it completely unnecessary since the maid was more than capable and my needs were actually quite minimal.
Her presence may have been unnecessary, but it was very welcome. From the first time we had met a few months before, the attraction had been immediate and mutual. Whenever she greeted me she always made sure our lips touched and more than once the maid had caught us staring and smiling at each other from across the house. But she was my cousin so I contented myself to fantasizing about her. Besides, she was only sixteen and I had more appropriate women to satisfy my sexual appetites. But how could I have predicted this? Hurting my neck, Mickey moving in to care for me, or her soft hands gliding across my chest.
My cousin was a pretty girl. Like most young Haïtian women living on the edge of poverty, she was lean and strong. She was only an inch or so shorter than me with long muscular legs. Her physical beauty was all natural; her hair was natural and braided in a way that actually made her look even younger than she was. The ribbons certainly didn’t help. She wore an old pair of terry cloth shorts and a tube top that showed off her small, firm breasts. More so now that she was wet from the water splashing off my body. Water and soap suds dripped from her elbows onto the floor and her bare feet.
She stood in front of me, working her soapy hands over my chest and down my belly, avoiding my eyes as much as I avoided hers. As she worked her way down, there was nothing I could do to stop my erection. I was a little embarrassed and I could see her trying to suppress a smile. She crouched down but avoided my loins and worked on my legs but the sight of my penis dancing above her head was too much. I gave up trying to be good and decided to see exactly how far this would go. She hurried to finish and stood back up to rinse me off. I looked into her eyes and said, “Not yet, you have to finish what you started.”

.../...

Copyright © 2007 Xavier Pierre Jr. All rights reserved.

I'm in the final editing phase of Lovers Anonymous. Very soon the copy will be locked and production will start for the July launch. Keep checking this blog for a download of the entire first chapter. I might even make two chapters available as a FREE download. Until then, here is the Preface to the book.

Please help me out by sending as many people as you can to this blog. The more people visit, the more incentive I’ll have to post my writing here, including more sample chapters, previews of my other upcoming books, and my short stories.

Preface

It’s a strange thing to know that you are going mad. You can come to that logical conclusion by reviewing your own behavior after the fact, and sometimes even as you act, but a part of you is always utterly convinced that the things you do are what any normal person would do if placed in the same situation. My therapist told me that to do the same thing over and over while expecting different results is the definition of insanity. That may be the definition, but to know that you are mad, and yet not know, all at the same time; that, to me, is the essence of madness.
In reviewing this book a reader might incorrectly conclude that the main character hates women. The truth is far more complex. I can't fully explain why I treated women the way I did during that period of my life, but at all times, even in my cruelest moments; I wanted to love women and I wanted them to love me. I was as addicted to women and sex as to alcohol and drugs and that was the problem. I don't pretend to be an expert and I speak only for myself but as an addict, the object of my addiction became exactly that: an object. Once this was the case, notions like respect, love, or fair treatment became irrelevant. But if an object was found to be defective, it was simply discarded and replaced. I had no conscious reason to hate women. Up to that point in my life, no woman had ever really hurt me, at least not so deeply that I could justify the type behavior described in this book. No woman had ever humiliated me, or betrayed my love. On the other hand, living in my own reality, I had every reason to be selfish. Everything I did was done to feed my ego, and everyone around me existed to satisfy my desires. It's clear to me now that I was trapped in an insane cycle of looking for love in a world of my own making where love itself couldn’t possibly exist.
The pain, humiliation and rejection that I had inflicted on my lovers is something I myself would experience many years into recovery, at a point in life where I could be philosophical about it, work out my resentment and move on without holding a grudge. In part, the writing of this book is a result of that process. Rather than blame, I chose to examine myself. I’ve been given the tools to recognize the pattern of insanity and I am empowered to choose. Every day I’m faced with choices. I'm still a work in progress but by the grace of God I choose sobriety and in most other matters, more often than not, I choose the way of reason.
The first step in writing this book was to actually live it. The events I write about were taken from the book of my life. There are many parts of the story that I sincerely wish had never happened but the simple truth is that no amount of wishing can make my past go away. I know, because I tried. The life I’ve lived is the history I’m stuck with. Having failed to make my past go away, I realized that I had no other choice but to make a “searching and fearless moral inventory” of myself and move forward from there. Fortunately, the story isn't over. I’m adding to it every day and I’m working hard to make it to a happy ending.
Since the last thing I want to do is cause more hurt to the many people who appear in this book, I've changed most of the names not only of people, but also of key places. Those who know me today, and even some who have known me for many years have asked, after reading initial drafts, “Xavier, did you really do those things?” Sadly, the answer is yes. Please note however that this isn’t a documentary of my life, nor is it written like one. I’ve endeavored not only to tell my story of redemption, but to tell that story in a compelling way. From the beginning, I felt it was important to write a good book. To that end, I’ve taken certain liberties as an author. In almost every case this was done to make the book more readable or convey important insight. Also note that this book is written in the first person and from the decidedly warped perspective of the person I used to be.
I’ve also been asked about the graphic sexual content. All I can say is that I wrote this book the only way I knew how. The sex is included not to titillate, scandalize or shock, but in order to give the reader full access into the mind of a man obsessed with booze and sex. In fact, there are more references to, and descriptions of, drinking than sex. For those who read this book and remember only the sex, it’s my humble opinion that you’ve missed the entire point in addition to some valuable life lessons.
In order to tell my story I had to reinvent myself as an author. This meant making certain decisions about what was important, what was less important, and what was most important. Ultimately the truth is most important, while the myriad details surrounding the events I write about are clearly less important. In the beginning I struggled mightily with myself every time I had to move a line of dialog from the person who actually said it to another person, or when I moved an event from where it actually took place, to a different location. But in the end, I had to accept that what is said is often more important than who said it and what happened is often more important than where it happened. As a consequence of this inner struggle I can say without hesitation that this work is an accurate recounting of my life story as seen through the eyes of a broken man in dire need of recovery. Having sought and found deliverance I attest that this book, though not perfect, is fundamentally a true story.
I want to recognize all the unsuspecting actors who contributed to this story, quite literally, with their blood, sweat and tears. Though unappreciated at the time, they played their parts as best they could on the stage of my insane reality and I owe each and every one of them an apology. But to some I owe a much greater debt which I can never fully repay. To all of you, wherever you are, I humbly ask forgiveness.

Finally I want to thank the numerous friends who gave valuable input during the writing of this book.

Peace and Love,
Xavier
May 10, 2007

Copyright © 2007 Xavier Pierre Jr. All rights reserved.

Well here it is finally. The book cover photo for Lovers Anonymous. I’ll post the final layout when it’s done. Of course that’s Ali and I in the photo. It was taken Sunday at Norman Manley Airport in Kingston. In the photograph it’s obvious that my fingers are crossed behind my back. After applying the water color filter in Photoshop the crossed fingers are not so obvious any more but I really like the overall look. What do you think?

And here’s the portrait for the book cover. Is this a good photo or should I take another one? And is B/W OK or would color be better?


Copyright © 2007 Xavier Pierre Jr. All rights reserved.