Her skin is light. Her hair was short. But after high school it turned long. My interest in her grew two-folds after that. I felt my urge for her already risen when I saw her. I was eager.
We met, she disappointed me in here in-responsiveness. But I don't blame her, I bet it's revenge. Through primary school, she had an eye for me, watched me exchange other girls. During high school, she still had the hots for me, she passed notes to me, and I passed them back more out of courtesy, acknowledging she had noticed me. I was a teenage. Understand.
She was fly, I kid you not, but today she is flier than ever. The hair thing. Plus, make up, a light touch; an accessory to her clothes, an era where matching eyes with clothes. Cosmetic contact lenses and what not...
It was another day. It was just but another text. We had started talking again, cause I had started building a strict line on who my friends are and who my friends with benefits were. She was just a friend, cause she was sore and mean for some reason. I think she liked me, but she had some resentment that bottled up in her over the years it had accumulated high pressure.
Once again we were out, sipping something something. She walked in, she wasn't surprised to see me, cause I think she was following me. Something to do with me updating my location on social media.
She checked in. I checked her out. I was a gentleman, stood up, gave her a thorough hug and a little lift. I was with my friends, all guys, two guys. They took Tuskers like real men, I took BlackIce cause I would rather eat piss that take such awfully tasting beer.
"Hey, you know them Bobby?"
"yeah..."
"why don't we go join them?"
"absolutely not."
"why? They aren't fly or something?"
"no, we will ask them to come here...not us going there."
I grabbed the waiter. The other grabbed extra seats. And the last grabbed the girls. We sat together.
We laughed fake ones. Tried to introduce each other in humorous ways. Some of them clicked together, some of them sparked, some didn't but it was a lovely night. The music was as tight as the skirts, and the emptier the bottles become, the lower everyones standards went. Another round Mr. waiter.
"We are leaving tomorrow morning you know Bobby?"
She was being touchy and friendly.
I paid the cab guy. We walked into my house. She did the lap women make when you get them to the house. First of all, check out where the music is from. If movie parts have a sound track when people kiss, why shouldn't I? That's why I always leave the music on and light every time I know it might be a lucky night.
"You stay here alone?"
"yeah."
"you should get a girlfriend..."
I wasn't girlfriend material yet. So... She sat down. I wish I had wine. I didn't sit on the sofa she was on. But something about her posture made me stand up. She was a bit lose; as in she was sloppily seated. I planted a kiss on her. She was eager.
We played some more, but things weren't going where I wanted them to. First of all, her friends weren't letting her phone not ring. Every time, they interrupted. They wanted to know where she was? Where she had gone, when she would come back.
And I had to go through the whole cooking process again until she was hot. The next time she was hot, she wanted to leave, it suddenly become late.
We moved from siting room to bedroom, sitting room to bedroom, doing everything that leads to you know what but nothing but you know what.
I wore the jacket, she was flat. I thought it would show the urgency. It didn't. I could feel my frustration.
It got off.
She kissed me. She held me. She told me I needed to make her my girlfriend in very vague ways, but I wasn't in the mood.
I thought she had forgotten about that after a while, cause she was the eager one.
I wore a jacket again. Her dress had been rolled up by the bed a couple notches high. The lights were off, but I saw.
She pulled it off, and hurt me in the process. Threw it in the dust bin.
I got upset. I sat in bed. She came to bother me again. I made her hot. When it was time, she pushed me away.
I stood up, remembered Barney in 'How I met your mother' the series. I pulled the naked man. Do you know what a naked man is? Apparently you can't fight with a naked person. They will ask you to put your clothes on or something.
So I stood there with my birthday suit; with another jacket. She had gone to get water, she walked in. She almost chocked.
"Haiya, we go..."
I just stood there. She started being nice. Only that her plan was to get jimmy off his jacket. She knew I wouldn't if I didn't have my jacket on. So she wasn't trying to be away from Jimmy, that would be too much work. She just took away Jimmy's Jacket off. She knew with the jacket off Jimmy would be away.
She was dressed, I wasn't. The naked man worked. Though all she did was seat on that coach and ate. Nothing more.
Her phone kept on ringing, her friends kept on interrupting. She had to go back to the club.
As we took the cab back, in her eyes, I noticed. She had a coldness even though her smile was genuine.
"Am a bad girl aren't I Bobby?"
And I though of her endlessly after she left. She treats me like trash, her idea of getting into my heart is breaking it. If when you are in love you can't help it but think of a person the whole day and that makes you love her more. Tell me, what happens when a hot stranger comes and randomly slaps you? You think about them the whole day, and thinking about them is opening your heart to them, hating them. Then the next day the slapping-stranger comes to you and gives you all the affection she has. Suddenly, she becomes different from everyone else. She becomes interesting than all other girls.
If I wanted to have her I would, I would say cruel true things to her, and even though she doesn't listen, they will affect her, I could tell her she looks lovely for seven days, dramatize my compliments to her, even stand on top of a desk and declare her the most beautiful, and on the eight day I will tell her she looks horrible, and from that day onwards she would look for my approval. I could be mean to beautiful girls, cause when you are mean to most of them (not all), they think you are too good for them, and they feel like when you are too good for them, they are getting more out of the relationship than you are. Women say men are accessories. He reflects good on you? Such a moon reflecting the star sun.
But I will not. I have been corrupted by my reading. You say whatever they run on news is Raising Awareness, but you know, it is advertising crime. When you make being a Bad Boy look glamorous what do you expect people will do?
Show no respect for women, but make sure people see them flock all over you? Show a politician who steals, then show him living in a palace with twenty BMW all of the same model cause he is filthy dirty stinking rich. Don't you think people will look at the stealing as a good thing?
We have totally disregarded morals... We are now making our own rules as we go right? And we aren't thinking in the long run. So, let's all write magazine articles showing all men that the bad boy wins, let the same articles be read by women so that they think it is cool to date the bad boy, don't believe what am saying? People are too discerning to be influenced? What happened to birds of a feather flock together? Your friends influence you? Hear no evil see no evil do no evil?
I will swim up stream if that's what it takes. The bad boy gets it all, walks over everyone and everything like a bulldozer to get everything and everyone. But that is not the only path. That's what everyone thinks is the only path, until Bill Gates becomes the richest man in the world without stealing. I used to glide through life like an angel, like a good boy, when I was flirting I complimented, now I trash women, tell them their hair would look better this way, they don't know how to kiss. I ignore them...am done with that. Why? Cause good is right, and if I have to be more patient to get things the right way I will. Am swimming upstream, against all the bad. We aim for the same things, different paths, but the same thing, but I want my path to be pure, even though everyone thinks that the end justifies the means. My means must be impressive, to the angels and me, I want to be an angel like I was, charm with good and not with evil, like I did when I was a tween. I was an angel during my tween-hood, that is the real me.
If people were too discerning to be influenced how then is advertising one of the biggest industry? If showing pictures of bad behavior and immediately showing pictures of glamourous rewards cause of the bad behavior, how is that not advertising?
We are making up laws, we are disregarding morals. Even the very basic ones, let's see how many bad boys it will take to destroy the most important thing. The future of our children. The kid grows up watching parents fight and parents bringing other people to the house. Spending more on thongs and cosmetic boob-jobs then leaving her kid without diapers and food. Yes, let's glamorize crime, that is the way to go. NkT!
