Literary Persuits and other Ramblings

Tag: dating

The List

He walked into the club. It looked the same as every other cub he had been too. It stank of alcohol and sweat. It was dark except for the dim house lights over the bars or the strobes flashing on the dance floor. He was alone, dressed in a black button up shirt and jeans. He paid the cover charge, not noticing the girl taking the money or the bouncer stamping his wrist. The girl noticed him though, and immediately wondered what it would be like to kiss his full lips.

He strode into the club, all confidence. He was alone but knew it wouldn’t be for long. He didn’t notice the girls staring at him. With his Eastern European features, dark hair and bad boy vibe, he was every girls dream in the club. Not that he acted that way, it just hung about him like a shroud.

He walked to the bar and ordered a coke. Inside he recoiled as the stench of freshly spilled alcohol hit his nose. It wasn’t obvious to anyone looking at him but the stench of the alcohol bought back dark memories. His face hardened, only making him more desirable. A predator among willing prey.

The girls smiled and tried to catch his eye. None of them were brave enough to approach him yet. He smiled back, softening his features, making him appear more approachable. Nothing screams more desirable than the mixture of dark and with a hint of light. Like a wounded animal with hope of being rehabilitated.

A monster with a soul.

The girls lapped up his presence, trying hard to get his attention. He didn’t notice. He scanned the crowd. He knew what he was looking for and knew she would find him. He held pleasant conversation with those who approached him. He didn’t realize, but he made them feel special. When someone spoke to him his full attention was on them. For the¬†fleeting moment that he was talking to them, they were someone special, interesting and most important of all, they were seen. He made them feel more alive than they cared to admit. All the girls fell a little in love with him. His mannerisms, enthusiasm and comfortable enjoyment of life was contagious. Even the guys liked him despite that their girlfriends were fawning over him.

Occasionally he was left alone, and the darkness set back in. He was biding his time, waiting for the girl who would catch his attention. He had spotted a couple of potentials but nothing concrete. He was patient. He let his anger seethe. He watched the writhing bodies on the dance floor. The gyrating hips and alcohol induced inhibition made him sick. He wanted to grab everyone and shake them, shouting at them for being so false. Instead he ordered another coke.

Just then a girl leaned over and asked for a¬†Cheeky Cranberry Brutal Fruit. “You don’t mind paying, do you”, she beamed at him. A winning smile. She knew what she wanted and knew she was going to get it. “Not at all”. He had found her. The one who thought she deserved his attention. He had seen her flirting with all the boys, getting them to buy her drinks. He had watched her practically strip tease on the dance floor. She was everything he loathed. She used people and didn’t care about the consequences. Used people like him. Even as he shot her a smile, he could feel the loathing of his past come up. Every single moment he had ever been used, cheated on and tossed aside only to be reeled back in was focused on this girl in front of him.

He sat and listened to her talk for about an hour. He was attentive, telling her what she wanted to hear and sympathetic to her needs. Eventually she leaned into him, full of confidence. “Do you want to get out of here?”. She knew she wasn’t going to be rejected, she knew she had him. “Would you like to come back to my place?” She beamed at him. He walked her to his car. The entire car ride she spoke, she was suggestive and his rage grew.

When they arrived at his apartment he opened the door for her, letting her enter his domain. He closed the door behind him as she stood awkwardly in his dark apartment. She was starting to get nervous now. It was easy to be confident in the club, but here it was harder. She needed another drink but it didn’t seem like he was going to offer her anything. A lick of fear went down her spine turning her cold and he stalked towards her. He didn’t kiss her, just turned her around and pushed her against the wall pulling her hair back to expose her neck. He bit her, hard. She whimpered in pain. “I know exactly what you need” He whispered in her ear.

He led her forcefully to the bedroom and threw her on the bed. It took him seconds to undress, and while she was stunned at the chiseled sight of his body and sheer size of him, he ripped her clothes off. He wasn’t gentle. There was no foreplay. In a flash he had a condom on and his rage fueled the sex. He didn’t hear her pleas, he didn’t care whether she was enjoying it or not. He just pounded into her, punishing her for all her sins and the sins of every girl in his past. She clawed at him and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he could be hurting her. She deserved this.

Once it was over there were tears in her eyes, her make up smudged all over her face. He called her a cab, and she asked if she would be seeing him again. She asked it meekly, half dreading the answer. She was unsure what just happened but was not going to show it. When the cab arrived she grabbed her torn and broken clothes and left. It would take her a long time to heal from the experience she didn’t know how to define. She had wanted him, and she had gotten what she wanted. She just didn’t know why she felt so used and broken inside.

He watched her leave then sat on his bed. He breathed in deep and went to go make himself a coffee. The shower he took was scalding hot, washing away any trace of what happened. He was disgusted at himself for what he had done, and no amount of scrubbing seemed to make him clean. He climbed into bed, hating the smell of the sex that he had just had.

He threw his arm over his face, closed his eyes and knew that sleep was going to evade him.

She was number fifty four.

And he had forgotten to get her name.

Was it a Dream?

It was just over a year. Longer perhaps, but definitely went over the year mark.

The beginning was happy. Not new and shiny happy, but more of a comfortable fit of a favorite pair of jeans. The kind of happy where the world finally makes sense, and everything that lead you to that moment was just part of the journey. The kind of happy that made you feel as though you have arrived home after a long time.

I still feel that way. One look, a touch, sends me reeling back into the feeling of comfort and safety. The feeling of belonging.

I made a choice, I walked away. I gave up.

A year and no one knew, at least not anyone I was friends with. I was hidden in the shadows like a terrible secret. A secret that one is so ashamed of they almost try and forget that it ever happened. It was happening though. It was there. It was real.

Or for the most part I think it was. There is no evidence that it ever happened. No social media comments or social reality. According to the world it didn’t happen. Life continued and no one knew the truth. If the truth is what the collective think, then the truth is that there was no relationship. Of course there were reasons for all of the secrecy, but as time went the reasons started to sound like the logic of a child.

Then the disappearing acts started happening. Hocus pocus, abracadabra and alakazam. Gone for a day, a week. Almost a month. I was rejected. Not even important enough to be included. Heaven forbid I point out it was wrong. May I be struck down for saying that I need attention too. Why did I not understand what was happening? Why couldn’t I just let it be?

Why does all of this have to hurt so much. Five minutes to delete everything from my life.

That is all it took.

Five minutes to delete a couple of digital photographs that no one ever saw. The only evidence that may have proved that something had happened.

Was it a dream? Dreams have happy endings.

No, this was more like a nightmare. A place where I did not exist. Where I was not as important as anything else in the world.

My significant other was my world and I was not even on a list of priorities. I existed only when and if I was wanted, like a toy which could be discarded at any moment.

This is not the first time, although it may be the first time I gave away all my love. The question is rather why do I let this continue? Why do I try and justify being treated with such disregard? Do I really think that little of myself that I would stay and be treated like a ghost?

No. I do not. I walked away.

I may have left my heart behind but I walked away.

And there is not even a photograph of us to prove that it wasn’t a dream.

Assurance

So I have wanted to write about my tattoos and their various salient meanings. I say salient, because as I grown and change as a person the meanings behind my tattoos alter slightly. I guess what this says about me is that I spend a lot of time thinking about my tattoos and their meaning. That way I am not going to have a tattoo that loses significance later on in my life.

So, my first instinct was to start from the first…

Then I thought I would start with the tattoo I am planning on covering up.

After the last couple of days, I have decided to start with the last.

The Backwards Text Tattoo

yeah yeah, slightly NSFW.

So, other than those perverts, whovians and OCD cleaners, you may probably notice that the text is backwards. Well duh. If you going to leave a message for yourself maybe you should be able to read it when you look in a mirror. No, that is not the real reason but it is a good reason.

Actual reason: I like to write backwards. So I got a backwards text tattoo. How awesome is that?

So, what does it say?

So I wrote you this song, but you won’t sing along

Okay, that is kinda poetic and cute. Maybe a little girly. Where did it come from?

Well, that part is easy. It is lyrics from a song called Assurance by a band called Hurt.

The significance?

Well it involves a boy. A stubborn, pain-in-the-ass ginger accountant to be precise. There are many ways to interpret that sentence. Lets just leave it as it being said with more than a little fondness.

I fell in love with G almost immediately. Well, he gave me butterflies the first time he smiled at me. An amazing feat considering we were running uphill, and it was some ridiculous time in the morning. Say, 7am or so. I was struggling (because I hate running) and he was prancing around, running backwards and all round being happy. The moment was fleeting as I still had to run back to the kung fu school and do the torment of what was then San Shou training.

However, I was eager to go to every extra training class after that just to see this strange boy (with a fantastic ass).

So, after much flirting (to which he is immune) and dropping hints, I eventually asked the dumbass on a date. I think I have probably fallen in love with him more and more each day since.

The issues started a while into our relationship.

He is grounded, stubborn, logical and prone to depression.

I am all over the place, stubborn, emotional, and well, all my flaws will have to be written up in a another post. We could be here a while.

Needless to say, the concept of opposites attract mostly applies to magnets.

So, where does the tattoo come in? Well, it was one weekend. We had been fighting a lot, the first time around (we have tried and failed this relationship twice now) and this weekend we were back to normal. It was my cousins wedding. When we eventually got back to my aunts place and collapsed into the squishiest bed on the planet, I asked him what would be the song that we would play at our wedding.

He said Assurance by Hurt.

So I listened to the song. After we broke up, I listened to it all the time. I still listen to it.

So, what does my tattoo signify?

  • love is not enough to keep a relationship together
  • no matter how hard you try and be someone to another person, sometimes life has other plans
  • sometimes two people who love each other cannot be together, but it doesn’t make the love any less real

It is by no means a sad tattoo. It reminds me of many happy moments I got to share with G.

So mostly, it is a reminder that loving someone is complicated. That combined with the complications of actually being in a relationship with another person means that if you know two people (or more) who have relationships where there is love and it works, you should be really happy for them.