The rare kind – the ones who wanted me unconditionally – they could only want me as long as I didn’t want them. If I wanted them, they wouldn’t want me. Too clingy, I am when I feel. God plays mean tricks on me in the form of women. I had to learn to be content with them; with those I could have because I didn’t want them, so it was easy to understand how happy I was with most of them after a while.
Good women can be found everywhere. Interesting, less so. Then count on the ability to have an intelligent conversation, but also to make childish jokes and you stand in front of a small puddle that used to be a deep ocean. Nevertheless, I simply lacked the ability to fish there.
What was left for me, the drained ones, was the mass, the hydrochloric acid ocean, in which I could fish whenever I wanted. There were already a few pretty ones there, but they etched me and almost robbed me with their allegations that they were on of them of my belief in the mythical mermaids out of the puddle. The low tide dwellers were too smart to get involved with someone like me. They probably looked at me. Looked like I wished them somebody better than me and understood they could have one.
My interest was not a double-edged sword. Serious interest is a saber for me, on which a shotgun was attached at head height and in whose barrel, I could see all the time. I wasn’t a conqueror. If I swung the blade too hard, the firearm attachment went off and I blew my own skull against white walls. So, I settled for the ones I didn’t want.
One blow with the wooden club, under which they threw themselves anyway, was enough to kill them. Don’t be careful. No elegance needed. No refinement. Boom – death – gutted – eaten raw -bones thrown away. It’s better this way.
I’ve been in love twice. Once when I was young, and I didn’t know any better. Once when I met the woman behind the bar, she put a whiskey on the bar and told me there was no way to get lost. I discovered her fishtail too late. I didn’t think they really existed. She escaped before I realized I was faced with what I always wanted. It was my turn to deal with it and return to the hydrochloric ocean. In a twisted way, I had missed the water, but not for long.
“I’m 22 years old.
I don’t have a job.
I don’t have any education.
I make all my living hurting people.
Either I hurt them
or they hurt themselves with what I give to them.
In whatever form.
You know that about me.
You’ve known me since yesterday.
And yet you want to be here? What does that tell me about you?”
I laughed and she giggled with me. It had been a good joke. She’s already loosened up. Squeezed out her chest. Her neckline held me by the bar. I could almost see up to her belly button. I poured myself the rest of the wine and put the bottle next to the living room table on the floor. I started to drink and went on:
“On top of that, I’m stoned all the time.”
In one sip, I drank out the glass and put it down.
“Buy one or two…” I stopped, picked up the empty wine bottle, presented it, turned it in my hand and proved with a shake that it was empty. “…new bottles every day and I buy the cheapest one out of choice because I don’t waste a good drop on you and you…yes you, still want to see me again?”
She couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore. It was too strong, I wasn’t just the joke driving it home. I stopped laughing.
“Sounds like fun! she said under her grunt.
She crawled over to me, so she almost sat on my lap. I stroked her hair and stopped when I realized what was really bothering me.
She turned her head towards me and grinned in my eyes. You could really see her slowly realize that I was serious.
“Fuck off, skunk” I said emphatically and pushed her off the couch with the hand I had in her hair before.
I caught her in a moment she didn’t expect. She flew to the ground. Her ass landed on the bottom. Her foot slammed against the edge of the table.
“Ahhh. YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”; she screamed as she was rubbing her bottom.
She got up, swept her things from the table into her purse.
“Fuck you, loner motherfucker! You’d better love a girl who hates you because she might see you as you are”
Grinning, I had watched her silently the whole time and opened the other bottle. The rage was seething in me. I poured myself some more. When she threw her cell phone into her purse, she dropped the act and started talking to me.
“Nobody is ever gonna play the fucking lifeline for you”
It went up in me. I held myself back, but my face was visibly distorted. She took her lighter off the table. She happily watched me try to control my anger.
When she realized that she was succeeding, she picked up her handbag and walked towards the front door. When she was already holding the door to the hallway handle in her hand, she continued:
“Didn’t Mommy love ya, little boy?”
“DAFT WHORE OF CUNT,“ I shouted, and threw her the bottle of wine after her. She had already closed the front door when the glass bottle left my hand. The bottle crashed against the wooden door, bounced off it and busted at the bottom. The wine ran under the door slit. I was just sitting there watching the puddle grow.
“Fuck, Fuck, FUCK, FUCK” I murmured before me.
I rubbed my eyes, took a deep breath and blew the anger out of my lungs. When I didn’t realize why the easy girls were bothering me all of a sudden, I took my pack of cigarettes from behind the books on the shelf. I set them on fire, took a train and cursed, being alone with myself.
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