Compensation: your desperation, my rage. Apply and be crushed. Apply again and be crushed with venomous, vituperative, venus in furs contempt. Apply again and beg for my scorn. And the furs. Apply again and be ignored. Apply again and again. I will always hurt you. It is what I do.
Reader, after three years of bi-annual phone calls and emails begging for another - or was it another? or another?? chance, my boyfriend circa 2002, the one I went out with approximately three times, has finally given up. I have not received a desperate, suicide threatening email from him in what appears to be twelve months.
Everyone hates a stalker: that's true... but a harmless one... one who simply adores me from afar? Maybe I could use another of those... I know it's wrong to enjoy the pain of others, but I have to be honest, here: most men like me when we are dating ad LOVE me after it's over. Can anyone get the memo and feel the love part during the actual relationship? Probably, it says something about me. I am not sure what. But indulge me this vice: I have enjoyed years of grim, prideful, sinful satisfaction from his God-awful pathetic emails and phone calls for all these good years.
All good things must come to and end, I see. It does not follow, however, that I might not hope for a new beginning.
Anyone willing to lavish me wirh praise: re: my intelligence, angelic virtue, beauty and rare bursts of sweetness is welcome to email me at : email@example.com.
Fail. as all but one of you will, and you must be content to read my blog and weep for love of me in silence. Succeed, and you must be content to read my blog and weep silenty for love of me in silence.
May the best man win.