One of the very many dumb things about me is: about every few months or so, my body goes into a weird physical overdrive which is kind of a nightmare scenario for me as I’ve always been terribly sensitive. I’ve consulted doctors, I have therapists, I’ve been through a regiment of therapeutics, and those behind them have just thrown hands up and ask: “Are you sure you’re feeling this?”
To which I respond: “Yes, I’m fucking sure. It’s been happening for years, as you can see by my fucking records. My body feels like it’s on fire and wants everyone to put it out, and I mean everyone. How many times do I fucking have to say this?”
When it’s at its peak, I’ll maybe be awake for nine hours a day — to work, thank God — and then I crash, hard. It is physically exhausting and I hate it…
“I’ve got to …get away! You don’t really want anymore from me!”
…but I also love it. I love it way too much. When awake, my face glows in a way that I seem high, as my wife can attest by: “It’s like you’re on Ecstasy.”
“I’ve never done E! You literally talked me out of doing it prior to our courtship!”
(That’s a story for another time.)
What’s worse is that the ascribed drugs I’ve been given happen to exacerbate the feeling, which obviously doesn’t help.
This is a very long-winded reasoning for part the impetus for this deep-dive into “Tainted Love”.
“Some of them want to abuse you.”
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; I’m stupidly physical, which is a weird thing for a middle-aged man to admit to but I am. I’ve put my body through a lot. Too much. Sometimes I marvel at the fact that I’m still here.
“Some of them want to be abused.”
I can’t help the want but can curb the need, which is good because I’d be absolutely fucked if I couldn’t.
So, to return to matters at hand: I enjoy this cover, but it is rather lifeless and perfunctory and listless. Ta.