I hate him.
He disgusts me.
With his constant need for affection and attention. With his dirty poetry hoping he’ll get lucky later. With his lying in bed next to his wife, kids sleeping in the other room, and him thinking about how he’s going to fuck me.
And there are so many like him. So, so, many.
I don’t mind a man who’s dark and knows it. Quite the contrary, I crave him. But a man who has no idea who and what he is- who think he’s ultimately a “good person” who is just missing something in his life? Yeah- fuck that dude. You are an asshole. You are a user. You are a taker. You are some sort of devil. Own it. Live it. Breathe it. Be it.
Get some edges that freaking scratch man. Be an interesting human. Stop pretending you are living the simple life, with simple wants, and simple needs.
“I’m just an all American, white bread loving, suburbian. I’m rather boring. With a naughty side.”
Is that how you see yourself? The white picket fence husband. Of course you want to fuck other things- because who doesn’t? That’s totally fine. At the end of the day you love your family. You provide for them. You make sure their basic needs are met. You’ve maintained your status as a decent human. Here’s your trophy- asshole.
Is it too much to ask for to dance with someone else who’s self-aware? To know that they are dark in all the right ways (and not merely be playing at it)? Apparently.
I persist. I will prevail. I fight to snap him awake. Hello, welcome. We’ve been waiting for you.
By the time I’m done with him he will be so exhausted he will never want to venture outside of his happy little bubble for some NSA fun again. Because I’m a fucking hurricane. I will peel back all the layers he didn’t even know he had until he’s raw and exposed. I will eat him up and swallow him whole. Yeah, fuck the sharing shit. I’m out for blood. Rawr.
And yes, I am aware that the subtext in all of this is – I hate myself. Because I actually am self-aware.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.