I buried her under the rubble of my own issues. My misery. I just threw it on top of her, expecting her to get out of the way in time. She doesn’t work like that. She’s shoveling the shit to get to the heart of things.
What is wrong with me?
That’s a great question. I’m insane, I’m pretty damn sure. I think I’m imbalanced chemically. [Way to go blaming something ‘out of your control’, asshole, she says.]
I’ve got three hours left to live, is all he thinks. I need to convince her to meet me tonight. Somewhere. Anywhere. There aren’t a lot of places open after I get out of work, though. [You don’t need it to be tonight, she says. You deeply desire it, and that’s your problem.]
She’s right, but… but… but… Crystal. I need you. I need you like I’d need a tourniquet if my arm was lopped off by anything [but a lightsaber. Those cauterize wounds as they slice and dice, you know.] Would you stop making me laugh when I should be ashamed of myself, woman? [No, I don’t think I can comply.] She’s obviously spent some time thinking about lightsabers, even though she hates the Star Wars franchise, what can I say? And this is part of why she’s so magical to me. She made me laugh just by remembering a silly detail in a movie she saw once.
Woman. I know we’re fighting over my business proposal… mostly because I asked you to front the capital and then give me 70% of the profit. That was wrong of me. It’s because I don’t believe in your vision, even though I proposed parts of it to you. I’m greedy. But I swear to you, I don’t want to take the money and run. Except I told someone else to do that once and now she won’t forget it. Not ever. Now she thinks I want to take her money and run. That I would use her and abuse her in an extremely long con just to make bank.
Maybe I would have, if I wasn’t in love with her. No, I definitely would if I wasn’t in love with her. But she doesn’t believe I’m in love with her because I’ve lied too much. I never stop. I don’t have any sense in me.
Are you a chronic liar yourself?
There’s a solution. It’s not an easy solution. It’s going to hurt you, really. Every lie you ever told ends up hurting you more than someone else. You’re going to have to write the truth down. The real truth, not the made-up fantasy you created. You have to acknowledge the reality instead of fueling the fantasy. That’s step #1.
You have to challenge your assumptions and beliefs, the justifications you used to perpetrate these misdeeds. Lying is a misdeed. It’s an act of hatred and vengeance. Has everyone you lied to deserved those emotions? It’s very unlikely.
You have to learn the word No. When you say it, it means NO. When someone else says it, it means NO! Whether or not they whisper it or shout it, it means no. You are not permitted to proceed. Just like now, she tells me NO! and every time I try to renegotiate the same idea, she does it again. “Bad dog!” is what I hear. And I am a bad dog. How on Earth can I justify asking her to give me 70% of the profits? It’s her fucking money, I should be grateful of the idea that we could go into business together and I can quit my stupid job. She told me she’s giving us both minimum wage and the rest of the money goes in the bank to rot.
We’ll both be paid $12.00 for 40 hour work weeks. That’s a gross of $1,920.00 per month, probably about $1,500.00 after taxes. Honestly, that’s probably more than I need. It’s more than I make now because I’m a part timer. I get benefits, so it’s not all dire, but I only make $1,000.00 a month for a lot more effort than my proposal accounts for, which is to AirBnB her mansion to larger families. Families who find it really difficult to go on vacation on a reasonable budget.
You know what, once put like that… I can accept it, no problem. I’m more surprised she’s willing to share a bank account, to be honest. She vowed never to do it again since Ben. She doesn’t want to share any resource whatsoever to tie her to a man ever again, but for some reason… I’m an exception. [If I can clean up my act, she says.]
She’s got a point. What’s to stop me from blowing my cash on hookers and blow? What’s to stop me from being an addict of some sort and giving into my weakness and wasting our funds on stupid things that don’t help either of us become better people? We’re a partnership now. I have to start thinking of us as a unit. We are one union of beings, we are tied together. I need to think of her needs in addition to mine. We have most of the same needs, anyway.
Food, shelter, clothing, entertainment, hobbies.
We have almost all the same likes and dislikes, honestly. [Except those fucking tatas you want to bury your face in, bro.] (It burns every time, folks, I’ll tell you. I made one mistake. Then I made about six million more based on getting away with the first mistake, and you’d think me staring at those scrubbed tits was the one mistake, but it wasn’t. I started looking at women like meat, like a fucking fool. I hadn’t done it in ages, why did I even start? I could blame her but that’s real weakness there.
It was my choice to look. And look again. After two months, it escalated to popping wood over a pair of boobs. Not the whole woman — I don’t even know what she looks like. [You need to apologize profusely to that pair of boobs, bro.] Okay… She’s right. I’m sorry, blue-clad tatas. I’m trying to erase you from my memory. After she raped me with the image of them slapping me in the face relentlessly for about two minutes straight, I definitely learned my lesson. You are weapons. A trap I fell for. I’m really sorry I looked, I’m really sorry I got horny from looking, and most of all… [That’s right, boy. YOU CHEATED ON ME. YOU SAID YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO DO IT AND YOU DID IT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!]
[Grown-up my ass. You’re a child who has not gone beyond object recognition. Look, thar’s some titties I could bounce around my face and motorboat and have a nosebleed into! But wait, what if they just independently attacked you, slapping you around until your nose is broken instead? Mess up your pretty little FACE!]
[“What have I done?!” she mocks, pretending to be completely compassionate and empathetic towards the boy.]
[Oh, that’s right. I looked at TITS AND ASS FOR MONTHS! I told you all those women are advertising their wares, like it’s not on me to stop looking at them. That they want me to stare at them relentlessly, obsessing over their curvy bits, but only when their waist is about twenty inches in diameter, because I’m a vain CUNT! I don’t even look at their faces because they’re nothing more than blow-up dolls for me to stroke my wood to. Whores, in a word.]
Let me tell you something about women and the way they dress: Some of them dress to be seen. Most of them dress to try to be comfortable. They got shit to do and an appointment on Tuesday to shed unwanted blood and tears. [DiFranco] They don’t give a rat’s ass that you’re gawking at them, trying to figure out how to slide your pepe into them, because YOU DON’T EXIST. You’re INVISIBLE. You’re NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING AND YOU KNOW IT.
You don’t care, though. You don’t care that the woman you just saw is married. You don’t care that she’s taken. You don’t care anything about her personality or who she is or what she’s survived. Let me tell you something: women survive man shit. It’s all shit. Every single fucking word you give us. EVERY SINGLE ONE, DO YOU HEAR ME?
I am sick and tired of this rigamarole. GET OUT. GET THE FUCK OUT. I give you pass after pass and all you do is prove that you don’t deserve any. You don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt. You deserve the sharks. You deserve to be thrown to the wolves, gimpy as fuck, with no escape. We’d be better off without you, and not because you’re men, but because you’re a rapist. You do not understand that you are mentally raping these women. They didn’t consent to this shit. They don’t know you. You are nothing to them.
If they’re anything like me, they put on clothes that fit, they go to the fucking store, they buy food, they go home, they eat, they sleep, repeat. They might even work! In fact, I hope they do, so they can be independent from YOUR DUMB ASS. None of you GET IT. I’ve told you over and over again. All of you from my past. I’m telling the rest of you miserable fucks now.
I’ve learned my lesson: there is no such thing as a good man.
There is only a trained man and a wild man.
You, sir, are being a wild man.
Step up to the plate or step out of my life.
Angel-Sansara 