hell hath no fury baby! pt. 1
The novel i've been reading must be getting to me.
It's called Belladonna. About a young lady who is raped and left pregnant by a well-to-do man in the 1930's belonging to an elite mens' club. She then spends the next 20 years recovering, planning and executing a wonderfully delicious revenge plan on the constituents of this mens' club, the man who raped her, and with her two eunuch friends, using a lounge club to catch bad men in the act, and give small women satisfaction.
It's been a glorious read so far, but that's not why i'm writing.
I never said i wasn't vengeful myself....
So many girls out there get done, and done badly by their men. They go into a corner and lick their wounds, and and allow the next guy to walk all over them again. So many girls wish they were in a position to make him hurt little, if not as bad and he hurt them. But don't you know, that's not lady-like. A girl who takes pleasure in righting the justice scales, or giving karma a little helping hand-she's labeled a bitch, vindictive, and down right scary. People are told to avoid her at all costs, or at very least, not to cross her. But EVERY woman has this kind of temptress in her.
I don't personally think she's a bitch. i think she's crafty. I don't think she's vindictive, but rather opportunistic and resourceful. You can bet a hurt girl with a those qualities is sure to be scary as hell if you have wronged her.
I had the fortune last night of having a wonderful night out on the town at a girlfriend's birthday bash . I danced, I talked, and I laughed. We drew mustaches on our fingers and they found their ways into many photographs. It was 1:30am and i figured i needed to get my butt home, before the club died off entirely.
I had the misfortune however, of getting on the same crowded 310 Bathurst bus as my last ex. He must have been plastered or high because he completely didn't notice me get on. His presence hit my consciousness like a bullet in the brain. " oh just splendid" I thought to myself, " it's a hell of a long ride and i am going to have to grit my teeth and bare this." I walked to the back of the bus very quickly, sat down, and shoved my headphones in my ears, trying to calm down the feelings that were clawing themselves up my stomach and throat.
I had to retake my STD from this guy, to make he hadn't given me anything from his outside the relationship philandering.
Grr.
I put next to no rules on him, but a fundamental one is fidelity- once the relationship is realized. He made me give up the people I was seeing, and I did that willingly. You would think that would mean he would too...
GRR.
I treated HIM like the princess. That's right. In every sense of the word, Hunny. Such a gender reversal.
GRR!
I am interrupted in my stewing by a very drunk guy trying to get my attention, trying to talk, then tap me- trying to pick me up. He kept asking my name and for my digits. I said i don't give them out and moved to another seat ( still at the back of the bus). He moved as well. I could tell this was going to be a ride from hell. Plus, if the ex did notice me at the back (because this guy was a loud drunk) he'd get some sort of satisfaction out of me getting hit on by this crazy asshole in front of me. * the drunk guy is now in the process of taking out his ID and bank account statements for me to look at, apparently trying to impress me or something*
satisfaction......satisfaction...
And I get this playback in my head of a friend of mine who says to me, in a rage of her own regarding this guy, " You know, he just keeps screwing people over because he just thinks of himself. So selfish. And he just drifts to the next person, and no one does anything. They just expect them to drift away."
All the while this terribly drunk guy is trying to convince me that he's prince charming, and it dawns on me. If there was any better way to explain it, then I would, but if you think back to that scene in 'The Grinch who Stole Christmas' where Mr. Grinch gets the idea to steal Christmas by dressing up as Santa and has that amazing look move across his face. That contortion of pure evil and personal vindication. That's exactly what i swear happened when i got the idea.
My demeanor changes. I become ever so much softer towards this drunk. My voice is seductive, and as i begin to speak to this loud mouth, the people I'm sitting around start paying attention. I am suddenly interested in him and everything his little babbling mouth has to say. Or so he is lead to believe. Then I stop him with my hand on his shoulder, my fingers like five serpents, feeling his arms and making him feel ever so wanted for all his efforts.
" Actually, you could do something for me. You know that " I say, pausing to drag my index finger along my lower lip seductively, as if to be thinking about it. " Sure, anything you say. I'll do what ever you like" he says looking all gooey-eyed at me.
The back of the bus is now paying full attention.
" There is someone on this bus. Someone with a mohawk, the only one on this bus, in fact. " I say in a low enough voice that only the back corner of the bus can hear, those who are really listening.
The drunk scans the bus lazily and sees who I'm talking about and turns back to me. The back of the bus, upon hearing me, does the the same. " I want you to get up" I say, while twirling my fingers on his shoulder," and yell Cheating Bastard down the bus for me. You see, he's been a Bad Boy. Can you do that for me?" I give him the 'i'm just a girl, oh pretty please' face. The drunk staggers to get up.
Read the rest in pt. 2
It's called Belladonna. About a young lady who is raped and left pregnant by a well-to-do man in the 1930's belonging to an elite mens' club. She then spends the next 20 years recovering, planning and executing a wonderfully delicious revenge plan on the constituents of this mens' club, the man who raped her, and with her two eunuch friends, using a lounge club to catch bad men in the act, and give small women satisfaction.
It's been a glorious read so far, but that's not why i'm writing.
I never said i wasn't vengeful myself....
So many girls out there get done, and done badly by their men. They go into a corner and lick their wounds, and and allow the next guy to walk all over them again. So many girls wish they were in a position to make him hurt little, if not as bad and he hurt them. But don't you know, that's not lady-like. A girl who takes pleasure in righting the justice scales, or giving karma a little helping hand-she's labeled a bitch, vindictive, and down right scary. People are told to avoid her at all costs, or at very least, not to cross her. But EVERY woman has this kind of temptress in her.
I don't personally think she's a bitch. i think she's crafty. I don't think she's vindictive, but rather opportunistic and resourceful. You can bet a hurt girl with a those qualities is sure to be scary as hell if you have wronged her.
I had the fortune last night of having a wonderful night out on the town at a girlfriend's birthday bash . I danced, I talked, and I laughed. We drew mustaches on our fingers and they found their ways into many photographs. It was 1:30am and i figured i needed to get my butt home, before the club died off entirely.
I had the misfortune however, of getting on the same crowded 310 Bathurst bus as my last ex. He must have been plastered or high because he completely didn't notice me get on. His presence hit my consciousness like a bullet in the brain. " oh just splendid" I thought to myself, " it's a hell of a long ride and i am going to have to grit my teeth and bare this." I walked to the back of the bus very quickly, sat down, and shoved my headphones in my ears, trying to calm down the feelings that were clawing themselves up my stomach and throat.
I had to retake my STD from this guy, to make he hadn't given me anything from his outside the relationship philandering.
Grr.
I put next to no rules on him, but a fundamental one is fidelity- once the relationship is realized. He made me give up the people I was seeing, and I did that willingly. You would think that would mean he would too...
GRR.
I treated HIM like the princess. That's right. In every sense of the word, Hunny. Such a gender reversal.
GRR!
I am interrupted in my stewing by a very drunk guy trying to get my attention, trying to talk, then tap me- trying to pick me up. He kept asking my name and for my digits. I said i don't give them out and moved to another seat ( still at the back of the bus). He moved as well. I could tell this was going to be a ride from hell. Plus, if the ex did notice me at the back (because this guy was a loud drunk) he'd get some sort of satisfaction out of me getting hit on by this crazy asshole in front of me. * the drunk guy is now in the process of taking out his ID and bank account statements for me to look at, apparently trying to impress me or something*
satisfaction......satisfaction...
And I get this playback in my head of a friend of mine who says to me, in a rage of her own regarding this guy, " You know, he just keeps screwing people over because he just thinks of himself. So selfish. And he just drifts to the next person, and no one does anything. They just expect them to drift away."
All the while this terribly drunk guy is trying to convince me that he's prince charming, and it dawns on me. If there was any better way to explain it, then I would, but if you think back to that scene in 'The Grinch who Stole Christmas' where Mr. Grinch gets the idea to steal Christmas by dressing up as Santa and has that amazing look move across his face. That contortion of pure evil and personal vindication. That's exactly what i swear happened when i got the idea.
My demeanor changes. I become ever so much softer towards this drunk. My voice is seductive, and as i begin to speak to this loud mouth, the people I'm sitting around start paying attention. I am suddenly interested in him and everything his little babbling mouth has to say. Or so he is lead to believe. Then I stop him with my hand on his shoulder, my fingers like five serpents, feeling his arms and making him feel ever so wanted for all his efforts.
" Actually, you could do something for me. You know that " I say, pausing to drag my index finger along my lower lip seductively, as if to be thinking about it. " Sure, anything you say. I'll do what ever you like" he says looking all gooey-eyed at me.
The back of the bus is now paying full attention.
" There is someone on this bus. Someone with a mohawk, the only one on this bus, in fact. " I say in a low enough voice that only the back corner of the bus can hear, those who are really listening.
The drunk scans the bus lazily and sees who I'm talking about and turns back to me. The back of the bus, upon hearing me, does the the same. " I want you to get up" I say, while twirling my fingers on his shoulder," and yell Cheating Bastard down the bus for me. You see, he's been a Bad Boy. Can you do that for me?" I give him the 'i'm just a girl, oh pretty please' face. The drunk staggers to get up.
Read the rest in pt. 2