Teasing Cocks
I use men. I use them to relieve my boredom, to make me feel better, and as devices to make other men feel jealous. And of that ever increasing (and ever more depressing) list of flings, dates, and drunken incidents, I’ve actually only really liked two of them. I give up working out how many men there are anymore, for some reason the joy that came from categorising mine and Stacey’s lists of conquests started to dispel when she became so happy, and I became so sad.
As a child I dreamed of being a princess. I dreamt that knights and princes would travel from across the world to win me. As I got older it became less fairytale and more modernized, but essentially the same. Instead of being a princess I was simply Barbie (brunette) beautiful, and the princes and knights became rich and attractive.
When life eventually conspired to turn me into the cynical bitch I am today, I figured it might be fun to be an ice queen. To be adored, aloof, and ever slightly detached from every man I met. I always attempted to act the ice queen, the realisation that for the past six months or so now I’ve been living it is somewhat a shock to me.
I look back and come across various blurred faces. Men I’ve ridiculed as puppy dogs, or simply pathetic because they’ve been stupid enough to like me. Men I’ve led on heartlessly when I’ve known from the start that the only way they would ever have a chance with me would be if they either became millionaires or had a face transplant. Problem is, I’m starting to lose track. I’m sure there haven’t been that many. But when I think about it, even the times when I haven’t directly pulled anyone, I’ve acted as a cocktease in some capacity or other.
I don’t set out to break hearts. Most the time I maintain that I’m not capable of it due to the fact that I’m unattractive/ too much of a bitch/ just not a heartbreaker. And I’m not breaking any hearts with what I do. Or, at least, I’m pretty sure that I haven’t got close enough to any man to manage. I’ve only been close to one man, and he definitely hasn’t had his heart broken by me. But though I’m not breaking hearts, I’m not exactly being nice.
If any man did what I do to them (and this includes the one that broke my heart rather pathetically) then I would be beyond pissed, I’d be livid. So why do I do this? Pick men up and drop them five minutes, an hour, two weeks later? Is it some stupid survival reflex from the various times I’ve let someone get close and they’ve hurt me? Am I so self obsessed that men are no longer other people and are simply another form of self gratification for me? Or am I just a heartless bitch who’s never going to be happy with anyone so goes through everyone just to check?
I don’t know anymore. I don’t like myself. And I definitely don’t like some of the things I’ve done.
And I don’t know how to stop…
As a child I dreamed of being a princess. I dreamt that knights and princes would travel from across the world to win me. As I got older it became less fairytale and more modernized, but essentially the same. Instead of being a princess I was simply Barbie (brunette) beautiful, and the princes and knights became rich and attractive.
When life eventually conspired to turn me into the cynical bitch I am today, I figured it might be fun to be an ice queen. To be adored, aloof, and ever slightly detached from every man I met. I always attempted to act the ice queen, the realisation that for the past six months or so now I’ve been living it is somewhat a shock to me.
I look back and come across various blurred faces. Men I’ve ridiculed as puppy dogs, or simply pathetic because they’ve been stupid enough to like me. Men I’ve led on heartlessly when I’ve known from the start that the only way they would ever have a chance with me would be if they either became millionaires or had a face transplant. Problem is, I’m starting to lose track. I’m sure there haven’t been that many. But when I think about it, even the times when I haven’t directly pulled anyone, I’ve acted as a cocktease in some capacity or other.
I don’t set out to break hearts. Most the time I maintain that I’m not capable of it due to the fact that I’m unattractive/ too much of a bitch/ just not a heartbreaker. And I’m not breaking any hearts with what I do. Or, at least, I’m pretty sure that I haven’t got close enough to any man to manage. I’ve only been close to one man, and he definitely hasn’t had his heart broken by me. But though I’m not breaking hearts, I’m not exactly being nice.
If any man did what I do to them (and this includes the one that broke my heart rather pathetically) then I would be beyond pissed, I’d be livid. So why do I do this? Pick men up and drop them five minutes, an hour, two weeks later? Is it some stupid survival reflex from the various times I’ve let someone get close and they’ve hurt me? Am I so self obsessed that men are no longer other people and are simply another form of self gratification for me? Or am I just a heartless bitch who’s never going to be happy with anyone so goes through everyone just to check?
I don’t know anymore. I don’t like myself. And I definitely don’t like some of the things I’ve done.
And I don’t know how to stop…
