I’m told we need a dragnet of truth to save us. Just grab the usual suspects and scapegoats. We have to protect our freedom to lounge about in piles of stuff. Yes mighty edifice of manliness penetrating all evil, protect us with your righteousness. Bring truth to justice.
Not many years ago he would have been my type. His pandering charm. His projected virility. The sinister diamonds in his eye so easily mistaken for fatherly protection. The patriarch of pageants. He just loves women, and women love him. All are safe in father’s hands.
I’m going to sell you something here.
You are too nice. You avoid conflicts. You want to be perfect. You keep score of the wrongs other people do. What do you resent? Your mother for raising such a perfect boy? Do you want me to hold your hand? Maybe you will just avoid me, ignore me, roll your eyes when you are behind my back. Perhaps you will just fail on purpose.
You say you are sensitive. You can really empathize with others. You want their approval so you hide your mistakes. When you look at women you feel shame yet women are the only friends you have. You know how to fix things. To make it all right. Maybe some day you will be rewarded for your goodness? No beta male, even feminists hate you!
[Fill in pick up artist book here… 10 Rules to Be an Alpha and Pick Up Chicks or something… oh, I don’t know… you losers will buy anything from me.]
Blonde charming psychopath, of course I fell for him. Not that I am blameless, with my propensity to shake the apple tree. Strong arms, big hands, our heat now frosted windows.
My simple trap: Careless hellos and exploits. Ride the river of conversation. Act as if love exists (yes, it does!)
Every few months, perhaps from lack of sleep, dreams will wake me. Last night I dreamt I walked at dusk to the outskirts of a city where an elephant approached me and recited this poem:
Many years have we walked in the dust to find water.
Many years with only tears for the dead.
Humans, sit with me and look up at the stars.
We fight among the bones of our ancestors when the Universe awaits.
Some days I am not angry enough. The money is good. It makes me compliant.
Sign these rules. Don’t ever make the company look bad. Your life is not your own if you want the cash. Remember, every indiscretion is indexed for future use.
You are tracked. You are monitored. You are owned. Submit. There is no safe word for work.
My biggest mistake? I wasn’t born rich, though apparently if I work hard enough I can buy an investment luxury condo in this place. At least that’s what CNBC tells me.
I kissed him in the elevator. Did I want to? Sure, though it’s mostly for the money. I mean, I love to kiss, even if I hate you. There were dusty remnants of dirty wet footprints on the faux marble floor as we ascended to the highest number. If someone was watching from the security camera we didn’t care. This box is yours if you pretend to love me.
First a Starbucks, then a bank, followed by a rather dirty looking Scottrade sign drifted by as I stared from my usual early morning Uber ride. Perhaps I am that douchebag. You know, the one at the unicorn startup, with the Tesla and the hot cool girlfriend. That reminds me, do hot cool girlfriends want to be accoutrements hanging on their rich boyfriends? I think not.
I have never been much for writing, and quite honestly I don’t write much beyond a third grade level. Of course this means I fit right in with the collection of fools I spend my day with.
My first thought: Every time I see him walk by I can only punch him psychically. I may be a douchebag but I am not the douchebag. You know him, you have loved him, the man, he will never let you go. He says it is love, but what is love without choice?