I look at you creepily from afar in the store, in your car, from across the bar. You may not notice me, but I want to make you mine. Yes, I realize your boyfriend could crush me into tiny pieces and toss the sky to float among the trees, the bees, and the flies. It matters not, because while I look in to your eyes, I feel a happiness unlike any other.
I’ll call you Summer, because your real name doesn’t matter. All that matters is your smile, your soft lips, your laugh when you are happy and the tears when I slap you across the face when I come home drunk off my ass and needing a beating post. You allow me to do so, knowing that in the morning I’ll be fine. The happiness and beatings will continue until I eventually kill you when you attempt to leave with the children.
I’ll sing to you, and it will be terrible, but you won’t mind, because you love me and I love you. I hold you when you are down and you’ll allow me to cry, because everyone man needs to every once in a while. You’ll give up your sense of freedom to maintain the household and raise the children and forgive me when I inform you that I’m the breadwinner. Every dream has compromises when realized and I’ll give up parts of myself to ensure the safety and well-being of the household.
I’ll call you Winter, because your one cold-hearted bitch. Fortunately, I enjoy being abused and I’ll be your dog for as long as I can go down on you and you give me children. Hopefully, they are all mine, but I’ll forgive you, if one or all aren’t. I just ask that you don’t tell me, lest I be forced to stab you in the back in front of the children. The blood will spray everyone and there can not be any witnesses. Unfortunately for me and fortunately for you, your deaths will be avenged as the police will know the suspect is me and track me down like an animal you raised me all along to be.
I’ll sleep with you, but don’t believe that I’ll stay. Your comforts are what I crave, your body, but neither your mind nor soul. Like Pokemon, I got to have them all, black, white, Hispanic, mixed, Jew, and Asian. You’ll fall into my traps because I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive and I know what women need in a man. I’ll give it to you, for 30 seconds, because as a man, I lived to serve my needs and not yours.
I don’t see you as a human, but a creature of mystery, delights, and filled with confusion and irrationality. Every cue, emotion, and phrase damning me will escape me as your language conflicts with my confrontation one. You’ll be angry and I won’t realize. Not from you brushing me off, not from the glares and sarcastic remarks about my manhood (that will stab me deep), but from the explosion of anger that will appear irrational. I’m used to kicking ass and getting my ass kicked when there are problems. “Silent Wars” confuse me, but our ending won’t be horrible.
You desire a man, but you received a boy. A boy that plays games, denies responsibility, and doesn’t understand relationship compromises. It might last long enough to produce, but you’ll be out the door with the burden I help you raise. Regret and anger will be a common theme when discussing me in the future and pave your future dating decisions in the future.
The problem I see fit is that men and women want the same thing, but men are more forthright with it and women are more secretive with their intentions. The goal is eventually to have children, so sex shouldn’t be something that men seek. Our physiology drives us to the same act of fruition. Mocking one of seeking the goal more openly is the similar to the act of chastising the other for attempting the same.
The things I would to do to you are borne from me being attracted to you. Don’t read too much into it, I’m attracted to those with similar features. If you want me to be with you then let me know verbally. If you don’t want to be with me, don’t mock me, because it makes me feel inferior and I tend to do harmful actions to gain back what is left of my pride.
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The ability to control and manipulate is borne at the conception of desire. When a man wants a woman, especially an unknown woman, she is put on high as a moment where tribute can be paid … this is more commonly known as “love” or “lust at first sight.” Women are neither monuments nor objects, but fellow human beings with an interior world of their own — they cannot or will not respect a man who would give them worship or tribute so easily, rather she is more likely to respect a man who is polite and confident enough in himself to stand up for what he believes in — even in the face of her childish and sexual feminine wiles.
Time will eventually have its way … even with the most beautiful and desirable of women.
Well said Tony. I’m going to keep your comment as a counter to the craziness that is in the post.
The problem is a matter of perspective and biology. As animals, females usually want a stronger mate in order to guarantee (as close as possible) survival. If the mate is weak, then the perception is that the children are going to be weak.
Of course as humans, we also have thoughts, feelings, sociology, and other factors. Usually, I’ve found that wooing a woman isn’t as complicated as “the movies.” Women may say they want that, but they lack respect for those who do.
The insanity is that those who do not learn from their mistakes tend to become stalkers and that is unacceptable. Neither as legal, social, nor in terms of starting a healthy relationship.
Confidence does matter more than what a person looks like. It is part of the reason an “ugly” man can be with an attractive woman. He had the confidence to ask her out (or he might of kidnapped her and kept her in the basement for a decade, who knows). I have some ways to go, I feel that there are certain environments for which to ask a person you don’t know out, but really I’m starting to believe that asking someone out at the supermarket is fine. Just that when I start to I either can’t get anything to come out or I stutter completely and give up.
Thing is, is that confidence is key, and I don’t quite have it. Eventually, I’m still working on it.