I was in a long-term relationship with a man who was known to be articulate and physically firm with his hands. He kept accolades from his arm-wrestling and kick-boxing realm from his high school days. Of course unbeknownst to me, all my attention had been projected to his thick arms and broad chest, the dream of every sexually active female. And his grip, oh his grip….
Anyway, here I was facing his wall decor full of silver-and-gold-coated bands, not to mention the framed awards that placed him as “The Strongest Bones” and “The Last Man Standing”. In all honesty, my initial response was “RUN!” but this man had held me in his arms and lined my neck with his, so perfectly that I had once pictured my death hovering over me in that position. How peaceful!
In the depth of my vulnerability, I would never imagine him angry or disoriented. It was without question that if a fly landed on his arm, he would swoosh it gently back into the wild to peacefully struggle for it’s own living. But then again, no flies ever played around in his presence. For the love of my life, I never wondered why. Well, now it all makes sense.
For legal reasons, let’s call him “G”. G always said that he had never been put in that situation, you know the situation where he had to use his prized hands. Which raised the question: How in control was he when other emotions like rage and hormones like hyper-testosterone phased in? There was only one way to find out.
I am a true believer that a man cannot truly appreciate your presence in his life unless something about his life changes for the better. For example, my ex-ex-boyfriend never did or knew how to do laundry. He would shop high labels, wear them out and donate them to the homeless shelter down the street. My reign changed that, for once in his lifetime he experienced the smell of freshened, folded, warm clothes, his clothes. His credit card expenditure hit a high-time low….get it, a high-time low! And even today, he still calls me to tell me how much he misses me!
So I took it upon myself to turn Jeff’s life around. (Jeff is complaining that “G” sounds so feminine….so Jeff it is.) I took it upon myself to bring Jeff to the brink. I did everything to make him angry, challenge him at every chance I could, dare his arms to move. But Jeff never cracked, right until I gave up. I resorted to living in fear for my face, hoping and praying that he was not the sort of person who would raise his hands to hurt or harm any living thing. My faith and love in him skyrocketed for the longest time, I had finally found my own temperament. A man who can control himself, the dream of every emotionally-invested female.
Imagine the shock of my life when I walk in on Jeff jerking off to anime porn. ANIME PORN!!
Porn is a hard pill to swallow as it is, but ANIME PORN…. Good Lord! He claimed it helped him recollect his thoughts and release his emotional weights as in contrast to punching a bag or even worse, hurting someone given his physical arm strength. No doubt that was a good comeback but…….ANIME PORN??????
Jeff is history now! I was hoping the past tense in which this out-pour was written would have signaled that but I had to put that in writing too. And this should go as a warning bell to every shallow, mentally weak, big-for-nothing mongrel out there. We shall not stand by and let you objectify such a spiritual act like sex to liken graphical drawings with small eyes and yellow hair. You shall be fired!
Don’t get to the point where flies avoid you. Don’t get caught! Don’t be like Jeff……manya G.