>now we are negotiating. i know what i want from him, and i put it
>into language that i know impresses him, not my usual
>fuck-with-languageisms, huh. nice big words as befits a... teacher. i
>have to get him to do this, to think about this, it is very important.
Yes, yes, this is what I miss, an iron will that leaves me no wiggle.
What I dreamed I'd get from women who were much stronger
than me, twisted me around their little fingers, made me whine
like a kicked dog, kept me coming back for more, one-sided
negotiation where they had all the goods I wanted, and no matter
my strutting and killing kittens to win them over, nothing I could
do worked. They'd avoid me after one of my best displays of
warrior fuckall. I'd call and call and get silent hangups.
Then a call would be taken, another chance given, a warning
that I'd be given one time to show I understood who was in
Then after marriage the truth came out, and it was better than
I ever dreamed it would be.
Killing kittens is what love-filled life-long education is all about.
Tried the tough-love shit myself, had a few bumbling successes,
a few suicides, a few disappearances, but the willing victims
just kept on acoming, mewling with proffered love and trust,
as if I was a long-lost parent. Course I knew from my own
experience that the up-close parent, the would-be parent,
the trapped parent, is a killing machine, carefully taught how
to do it by those so filled with hate, hurt and disappointment
that things didn't work out that you have no doubt why storybook
production of pefect humans is doomed to suicide, to infanticide,
to luring big-eyed innocents for force-feeding prejudice unalloyed.
Hate on four fingers, love on the other hand.
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