I hate the months after two months into a relationship. I hate date nights, I hate his/ her towels, I hate cotton underwear a woman starts wearing after a month.
I hate the sound of a human breathing next to me. Movies about dying cancer patients don’t make me cry, movies like the notebook make me mad. Physically mad, because they make a woman think every man that comes by her way should act and behave like this sappy , spineless twat.
As I walk to work, I see the back of this woman, beautiful smooth skin. See here’s my problem, I only like parts of a woman. I am what every woman wants to have, a man she can tame. women , like having things to do. The moment she doesn’t have something to do. She gets bitchy and cranky and depressed, first the sex goes out the window, next the nagging and crying for no reason start. That Is exactly why I will never want to be the perfect man because the perfect nice guy repels women. Have you ever seen a nice guy land a hot broad. No , exactly.
I look at the back of this woman. And imagine taking her home , and looking at her back some more, from a better position, her bent over to be precise. I don’t believe in everlasting love, sooner or later, I m going to find a spot or two on her back, and dry skin. And the magic dies , snap!.
I don’t wait for him to pay the bill. I pay my own bills. I pick up tabs, and I drive myself to places. I have been in love so many times, I know the works. i am a girl, like any other girl. i don’t fall in love with my best friend who was secretly in love with me, it’s not a movie. Its real life. The nice guy , hmm… does not work for me. Ultimately, I’ll marry the nice guy, until then. I have all the bad guys to make memories with. Unconditional love does not exist. I am an excellent liar. Like every other woman.
I love kids, but will never have any of my own. I aim high, try low.
I listen to rock and alternate music a year ago, the hip hop finally got me. It disgusts me now, but I try to go back and listen to rock, to try and make it move me. It does not.
I’ve lost more and more of who I am over the years. Adulthood is not for most. I am not the perfect woman. I will never be the happily ever after woman. I am the one before that.
I don’t intend to be this disser of all things valentine. I intend with all my heart to feel the glory of love and its trappings. My intention is one great love story, with a ravishing leading man, and me the leading lady, not the best friend.