It is 2010 and I am coming to the horrifying conclusion that I really am NOT going to die... soon and that I am totally without remorse for some of the devious and horrible things I have done, and for all that God is still...interested. Or should I say, involved, and I beging to wonder what horrible future He has in store for me.
The first thing, of course, is that it will be a life where sex is totally absent. Or worse, that I would have a life where there is sex, but with a controlling woman who wants me to be 'normal', or proper.
Then I meet this 'ordinary' red-haired girl, who seems too self-contained to be real, and yet has none of the "boys-follow-me" aura that I have met in every other woman. She is totally divorced from the frenzie-heaving-breasts-and-checking-my-ass-with-every-step-I-take mentality of girls everywhere, and I am immediately interested, especially as she also reacts to my open curiosity .
I will be honest, I was doing the mental equivalent of reaching down and stroking her privates, in public, and, well, it seemed that we were just the two of us, there was no one else. But then, I got bored, and "turned my back on her" so to speak, and she went incandescent with rage.
In response to the query from her body language, I responded simply that she looked just plain, and I liked that she was not 'attached' to anyone else, but she would grow old, her hair would fade, and she would cling, and she replied, spluttering with rage, that her hair had never changed, and her skin is always the same and she has never "clung". I am interested, but then I tell her the simple truth: she is female, and I am male, and I am a 'horny' male...permanently, and well, she would just get worn down. I speak wearily, from experience, and I tell her that the trouble starts when I want to 'seek' elsewhere because the train could go into the tunnel doing a 180 degree sideways Tokyo Drift and never touch the sides.
She is silent, and she weighs the options. Of course, by that time I was totaly unaware of the dissociation of some women from others and from males, but I could tell that she 'liked' the fact that I found her not only 'normal' but plain, and not even THAT interesting. She relaxes, and yet at the same time her claws come out, and as they say, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned", and so she refuses to let go. Till I growl and bare MY fangs, calling her to heel, and she is terrified as she has never been before, and I show her that if I wanted to twist her to do exactly as I want so that I get what I want, I can, and I give her a 'command': ask me whether I really tried to kill myself over this coloured girl.
She fights it. I was impressed, and kept on the pressure, till she deflected me by saying abruptly
"Prince, do you speak Afrikaans?"
This is the first time she has ever asked a direct question, and I pause, sensing that she is on the edge of panic, but wondering why she does not just give in and get it done.
Then I focus on her words, and my own anger rises, because I am thinking that she is thinking that I am a liar, and am at Valkenberg because I am seeking sympathy. I tense, then answer, evenly, "Yes. A. Little", and she immediately launches into a torrent of sing-song Afrikaans, and I read her like a book, and becaome even more coiled like a spring. She thinks I do not even speak Afrikaans, because I answered in English, so I shut her off mentally, and force her to come to the reason why I answered her in English. She stops, and then slowly asks me,
"Jy pratt a bitjie Afrikaans?" and I grind out
k t k
"E pra ne a bitchy", refusing to speak Boer Afrikaans and yet pointing out that the reason why I was NOT comfortable speaking the language was that I learnt it first from the coloured people, and their inflection is so virulently coarse and violent that all I want to do when one of then opens his or her mouth is to kill them. I react to the tone of voice of a person more than to the words, and I completely ignore what a person says till I digest the tone, and then I listen to the words only if I have run the tone down and got its meaning.
The fact that I never listen to anyone anyway was the point I wanted her to get, and I was pointing out that I had read her interest, and it was so totally out of context with the current situation... her a psychologist and me a patient... that SHE must be totally unnatural.
She had thought I had lost interest in her because she was undesirable, but all I saw was a woman, with everything physical in the right place, and yet, I was not that awed.
She wanted to know why, and so I told her. It is all about sex to me, when it comes to women. If I can find some that would just base it on the simple thing, and be reasonable enough to accept that they wore out and I did not, and did not become lesbians if I had them all in one place, then I would keep these. She wanted to know how many I could keep.
Simple, how many fingers do I have?
That would be the answer. But definitely no "girl-friends". I have only One friend, and He does not change. Everything else...I do not focus on.
The first thing, of course, is that it will be a life where sex is totally absent. Or worse, that I would have a life where there is sex, but with a controlling woman who wants me to be 'normal', or proper.
Then I meet this 'ordinary' red-haired girl, who seems too self-contained to be real, and yet has none of the "boys-follow-me" aura that I have met in every other woman. She is totally divorced from the frenzie-heaving-breasts-and-checking-my-ass-with-every-step-I-take mentality of girls everywhere, and I am immediately interested, especially as she also reacts to my open curiosity .
I will be honest, I was doing the mental equivalent of reaching down and stroking her privates, in public, and, well, it seemed that we were just the two of us, there was no one else. But then, I got bored, and "turned my back on her" so to speak, and she went incandescent with rage.
In response to the query from her body language, I responded simply that she looked just plain, and I liked that she was not 'attached' to anyone else, but she would grow old, her hair would fade, and she would cling, and she replied, spluttering with rage, that her hair had never changed, and her skin is always the same and she has never "clung". I am interested, but then I tell her the simple truth: she is female, and I am male, and I am a 'horny' male...permanently, and well, she would just get worn down. I speak wearily, from experience, and I tell her that the trouble starts when I want to 'seek' elsewhere because the train could go into the tunnel doing a 180 degree sideways Tokyo Drift and never touch the sides.
She is silent, and she weighs the options. Of course, by that time I was totaly unaware of the dissociation of some women from others and from males, but I could tell that she 'liked' the fact that I found her not only 'normal' but plain, and not even THAT interesting. She relaxes, and yet at the same time her claws come out, and as they say, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned", and so she refuses to let go. Till I growl and bare MY fangs, calling her to heel, and she is terrified as she has never been before, and I show her that if I wanted to twist her to do exactly as I want so that I get what I want, I can, and I give her a 'command': ask me whether I really tried to kill myself over this coloured girl.
She fights it. I was impressed, and kept on the pressure, till she deflected me by saying abruptly
"Prince, do you speak Afrikaans?"
This is the first time she has ever asked a direct question, and I pause, sensing that she is on the edge of panic, but wondering why she does not just give in and get it done.
Then I focus on her words, and my own anger rises, because I am thinking that she is thinking that I am a liar, and am at Valkenberg because I am seeking sympathy. I tense, then answer, evenly, "Yes. A. Little", and she immediately launches into a torrent of sing-song Afrikaans, and I read her like a book, and becaome even more coiled like a spring. She thinks I do not even speak Afrikaans, because I answered in English, so I shut her off mentally, and force her to come to the reason why I answered her in English. She stops, and then slowly asks me,
"Jy pratt a bitjie Afrikaans?" and I grind out
k t k
"E pra ne a bitchy", refusing to speak Boer Afrikaans and yet pointing out that the reason why I was NOT comfortable speaking the language was that I learnt it first from the coloured people, and their inflection is so virulently coarse and violent that all I want to do when one of then opens his or her mouth is to kill them. I react to the tone of voice of a person more than to the words, and I completely ignore what a person says till I digest the tone, and then I listen to the words only if I have run the tone down and got its meaning.
The fact that I never listen to anyone anyway was the point I wanted her to get, and I was pointing out that I had read her interest, and it was so totally out of context with the current situation... her a psychologist and me a patient... that SHE must be totally unnatural.
She had thought I had lost interest in her because she was undesirable, but all I saw was a woman, with everything physical in the right place, and yet, I was not that awed.
She wanted to know why, and so I told her. It is all about sex to me, when it comes to women. If I can find some that would just base it on the simple thing, and be reasonable enough to accept that they wore out and I did not, and did not become lesbians if I had them all in one place, then I would keep these. She wanted to know how many I could keep.
Simple, how many fingers do I have?
That would be the answer. But definitely no "girl-friends". I have only One friend, and He does not change. Everything else...I do not focus on.
