I am a Gentleman.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen”, I told her as she walked across the room unclothed. She flipped her auburn hair, looked over the shoulder and smiled. I was helplessly falling for this woman. It was two years ago.
Friday night- I coerced her to pack her belongings. Then I grabbed her by the collar and threw her on the same pile with her belongings. I shut the door on her face. This is ten minutes ago. Now I am drunk, very drunk. I can barely stand. I feel like throwing up, I am rushing to the restroom. My head is spinning; I need to get to the bed. I took off my contacts. I washed my face.
As I am walking to my bed, she is there. She is asking me to get her a couple of oranges and a glass of warm milk. (When she says she wants a glass of warm milk it means boiling hot, just in case if you ever need to do it for her). I hate it; absolutely hate it when she orders me around. She works seven days a week, around sixty hours. She is thin, like skeleton thin. She must be tired.
She is happy when I do what she wants. I hopped into bed. It is amazing how she perfectly glues herself to my body and fit perfectly in my embrace. I love kissing her. She tastes sweet as honey. She prowls if I ask for a piece of an orange. “This is my dinner”, she whines. She wants to watch “Sheldon” (she means Big Bang Theory). She is getting annoyed because I smell bad. (After 4 cans of beer and a blunt, I won’t smell Gucci, duh!)
Sheldon is over, her stomach is growling.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“I don’t like rice” she replies. She does not like rice but she cooks for me. She would wait until I get home to eat together from the same plate. In fact, I would end up feeding her with my hands. Talk about babysitting!
I am annoyed but I love feeding her, she wide opens her mouth. “Masu tyo masu”, she points towards the pieces of chicken and wants me to feed her rice and chicken. Her smile means the world to me. It is very enigmatic.
When I come back from the kitchen she threw my phone at me. She is mad. Oh man, not one of those nights. I am too exhausted for an argument.
“Who is this girl?” she asks in an exasperated tone.
“The one who’s texting you”
“She is just a friend, stop making it a big deal. You need to trust me. I love you” I reach towards her. She pushes me away.
I get infuriated. I am tired of this woman. I feed her, take care of her but she is temperamental. A couple of minutes she was enjoying a meal from my hand and was glued to me now she is pushing me away.
“Are you sleeping with someone else?” I asked. I don’t get why she is never happy. “What?” She looks at me as if I asked her if she murdered someone.
“How can you ask me such a question? I wake up, go to school, then I come home to spend my break with you and then go to work. This is just too much. You need to stop drinking and smoking. How can we have a good life together like this?” she retorts. She is picking a fight over a text and now she is blaming my drinking and smoking. She is nuts. This is making me angrier.
“Let’s forget about all this and go to bed”, I said as calmly as I can and reached out to hold her.
“I am not sleepy”, she replies almost implying she has a choice in the matter.
I am drunk and mad and this stupid woman keeps denying me what I am entitled. I want to go to bed with her. How can I sleep without good night lovemaking and a pair of boobs?
“If you’re not sleeping, then get off the bed”, I pushed her from the bed. She fell on the ground making loud thud noise. I got scared. I think she is hurt. She looked at me; her eyes were filled with tears. I think she is in pain and cannot move. She is tiny and delicate, you know. I try to help her out, she refuses.
She is sassy. She is a hardcore feminist. She believes in equality amongst men and women. She is outspoken and attractive. It is okay to act like that when one is single, she is with me now. She should not question me or ask my whereabouts. I am a guy, I need my freedom.I do occasionally have my rendezvous’, but it is just sex, nothing serious. She is my main chick (Psshh!! it is just between you and me, wink)
I know how guys think, that is why I don’t approve of her having guy friends. I don’t like her talking too much with my friends; no one cares about her intelligence as long as she had a hot body and a pretty face. Equality, I mean what is the point of dating if I have to clean, cook and do my own laundry? There have to be benefits being in a relationship. She is living in her own bubble, silly girl!
I cannot see her crying. It is tough on me. I almost feel guilty but then she needs to know not to question me. I wear pants in this relationship. I said sorry, not that I mean it but I am too horny. I am telling her what she wants to hear.
“Baby I love you. I am so drunk, I will never hurt you. I am sorry. Babuu, kanchuu I love you sana”, she looks at me almost not knowing how to react.
“You little thing, come to me”, I say trying to get her in my embrace.
She is wild, I do not know how will I tame her and make her exactly to my preferences. I hate to hurt her like this but she never understands anything until we fight about it. I wonder if her mother never taught her to question male authority. Beyoncé sang “Who runs the world, girls!” doesn’t actually mean they do. They need to man for validation and their existence.
I see her dark circles, tears mixed with her mascara running down her cheeks, wiped out makeup, faded lipstick. She looks exhausted. When I first met her, she was so vibrant and exuberant. She refused to dance with me. It was a trophy moment when I nailed her months later. Her tanned skin, her radiant smile, and the way she walks, the way she looks and the way it feels to be inside her, there isn’t anything about this woman that isn’t heavenly. I am so proud to show her off to my peers.
She is stubborn and takes stands on matters. But I think she cannot resist my charm, my good looks and my way with words. She gives up. It is not a feminine trait anyways. Someday I will turn her into a docile and homely woman, my dream girl.
I take her back to bed. When I see her in an ounce of light and when she moans in pleasure, I am proud of myself. When I run my fingers through her hair and touch her bare skin, it is so pure, I own her, and she is mine. I covered her with the blanket; she is always cold. I scoop behind her. This is love.
To be continued…..I Am A Gentleman- Part II