Man hater / sweetness

Beware boys here she comes.

Squish, squish, in all star shoes, she is heard walking up the street towards you. Her bouble gum pops.

She asks you sweetly, to light her cigarette.
Than,squish squish, she walks down the street.

She is not a man eater. Because she does not look like one.

She'd love to be a man eater, but she is not all that fair, and is slightly too podgy, her legs are a bit elephant like, and her seductive walk is the stammer of a child in a mother's high heels, ridiculous, but probably sweet to you if you are a man- and haven't been acquainted yet.

As you watch her walk away bemused slightley by the  innocent little giggle the big girl produced- she returns, starts a conversation about something purposely silly. She apologises for the being silly and continues to change subjects, looking very innocent and sweet, and despite her age and size, it appears to you that she needs protecting from the world.

Something in her smiles, in her eyes,  her overriding innocence touches you inside, etches away at you heart, strikes away at your manliness like steel against a flint stone, producing only little sparks at first. Yet with each moment you spend in her presence- the more she appears to need protection- and the more  of a man you feel.

Eventually  you are struck by the overwhelming idea that this girl, this unusual, girl was put before you by the universe, for you to protect her. The stars, and the moon, and the birds, spin around you two in that star struck moment, as you grow from a normal young man , into a blown up super hero  charged with the divine call to protect and care for this sweet sweet girl.

You are not the first man in history to feel this.

You are not the first man in this particular girls life ether.

You may be the fourth or the ninth or the twentieth to have met this girl and felt the same feeling. She is more convincing each time, with each new man, as she practices her science not upon dead stuff made of fantasy, but on real flesh and souls of men.

You fall in love with her instantly. She movies in with you in the time it takes to make an instant coffee.

You are compleately besotted. She is satisfied.

You are in love. You belong to her. She is yours- or she will be when you marry her she claims- she is saving sex for marriage, she is fanatically religious when she is writhing against your skin under the sheets, and refuses to go all the way, except for some times- as rewards- when you have pleased her.

Thus she sleeps in your bed for nights on end, and is making you wait for sex for months.
You are frustrated, and beautifully prepared, to be experimented upon, and played with.

See, suddenly if you leave the house- you do not love her.
And if you go out with friends she acuses you of cheating on her,
Yet if she goes out with friends she does cheat on you,
she cheats on you with every friend you have,
and finds a way to explain it in a way it appears your own fault .

Your going to work- means money is more important to you than she is-
Thus you go to work late, and stressed out, and soon enough loose your job.
That's not to say she needs you not to have money,
oh she needs tickets to concerts, and trips to Sicily, and she needs clothes, and she needs all sorts of things, for she is a creative little minx, not a actually an artist, or a photographer, or a designer, or a musician, or a cook- she is creative in a milion ways, she makes neck ties out of socks, and woodo dolls, and all sorts of such useful things,
and if you do not give her money,
if you do not have money
she starts threathering to you.

She is upset aobut the time you spend with your family, she is bothered by every friend you have, and so carves away at your circle of people until there is no one left but her.



You have no world, but sweet her, any more.




She shouts at you, and screams at you, and defiles everthing you are , everything you do and invents what you don't do, until you are broken, you have no confidence, you do not sleep, and have stopped caring about the way you look, you are a un shawen, a badley dressed mess, you now have no apparent talents, or job, you have no friends, or purpose,
all you have is her.


Yet you find the strength, to break up with her.


Outraged with defiance, with desertion, with being unwanted- she Sweetness, takes of her masked head , and out of her headless neck she screams and writhes .




She searches for the trigger. Your trigger. What would blow you over the edge into the abyss? She tires all which sets you ablaze. She invests weeks into the reaserch of what would punish you best. Steals your things. And is frustrated at your letting her have all in return for her being away. She breaks all you have made as an artist, and can not bear your silence. Accuses and invents. She beats you with her fists and scratches you with her nails, screaming hit me- hit me if you are a man, she wants to lock you away most decidedley  .

 Than she rewards you, because you don't hit women.

And just when you thought you have survived all her trials, that she is exhausted of means,  she, Sweetness walks the block in her squishy walk and boubble gum flavoured smiles, to stop and ask a stranger, a different young men for a cigarette light.

She does this whilst you are watching, after she told you she loved you, just after she finally had sex with you.

She picks up the new young man, in the same way you remember you had met her, and than sits on the same bus which you must take home, and talks about some silly things, laughs sweetly, whilst stroking the man who lit her cigarette. She is stroking his  arm and laughing at you.

They are laughing at you because you are staring, a new couple in love, that newly met man thinks. To him nothing matters but this girl's sweet smiles. No one else exists but she, and him and that
bus to heaven.

You say, that you can not allow for her to go with the other, not there, not in front of you. She laughs and whispers"Are you afraid of -him? Are you afraid of him." Like a snake chorus repeating the words in continuum, to try the new man if he wants her bad enough, and she watches you, mocks you, caresses the stranger whilst still smelling of your body and your sweat.

She finally found the spot. Your pride.

You punch the young man. He punches you. You punch the young man he punches you. Another man jumps at you and you beat him up too. Than older women enter to breakup the fight and you walk away-breaking windows with your hands out of rage.

She watched you, biting her lip in pleasure. Than calles at the police claiming fear for her life.

How many times has this girl been to the police you wonder? You remember her telling you about that crazy stalker of a boyfriend she had before you. You thought you had saved her from him. You spent all your money on romance for her until there was nothing left. Than she packed up her stuff.  What a fool you where.  Sitting there in that urine stench cell thinking about life, waiting for trial, wandering how many years of your life would Sweetness cost you. Lucky that than other man was all right. 


You piss into the sea , breathe it all in , the air, the salt, the sun. Pissing from the ship in to the sea is childishley satisfying, and the only way when you are hundreds of miles away from land. You are tanned and your skin is saltey. You are young,  full of money, as sailors are. In every port there are women. The mobile phone is lopsidedly swaying and sinking to the bottom of the ocean , with the lastest meassage from Sweetness saying " I loved you like no body else, you are everything to me, oh come back to me just for a day,  oh admit it -do you miss me" You breathe in the cigarette smoke deep into your lungs, oh happy poison and nicotine , than you raise the eyebrows, smile and say "Hell no, I am free".