More Games, Less Fun

This is post 19 of Section II. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here.

Once more, as in the early months of their relationship, Chloe dedicated herself to his fulfillment, and now as then he enjoyed this intensively in brief spurts, but he also found reasons to be away. He was beginning to realize that Chloe, like her mother, was driven by something he couldn’t understand, some fierce, quixotic determination to rewrite reality and make it come out “right.” A teleological distortion typical of the modern West, he thought, one that no amount of Tantric sex, or yoga, or chant (Tibetan or Gregorian) seemed to eradicate. The trouble was, he didn’t wish to be revised. She should accept him. Accept life.
So when he was home and she was there he teased and coaxed and bullied her out of her mission, made her forget he was her project and made her be someone or something else—even if it was just dessert. He believed she was grateful for this. Anyone should be grateful to be untrammeled, in flux, striking out moment by moment for freedom.
And gradually, he flattered himself, he had gotten her to go further, take more risks, release herself. Sometimes his plans were quite elaborate—the time he had broken into the house, for instance. As soon as she saw him she recognized him, of course, but the fear and surprise made her wild afterwards, the way he liked them.
He could hardly imagine her reaction to the gun.

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