Friday, 3 June 2011


I love my friends, but I ask myself sometimes who is there to talk to? I sometimes want to be played around with, you know ruffled up a bit.  I want to realise why it is important to put on my lipstick, to be appreciated.  I know I am, but I would like a little intimate flattery. One nice remark goes a long way.  I can put on that coy face and pretend that I do not need it.  Every woman needs to be told she is pretty, attractive, smells nice, has long legs.  The other side of it is, that most people do not see me enough to fuck me about, to fuck me about you need to see me a lot.
I have a wonderful life but if you think that it's luck, it is not, it is hard work.  Every day there are things that  just don't go right for me.  You know the sort of things, a light falls out of the ceiling on your head. The flowers die in the heat, even though you water them.  I get a parking ticket. The sandwiches are more curly than my hair.
I have to stay up all night to be like me.  I am a healed result of my past.  I like, all girls need passion and stability in equal portions.  I would like a man to stay ten minutes longer than they can, because they wanted to.
I see men like this, if they are nice to me, sweet with me, then they are shining men on white horses, if they are casual well....
The point is I do not like the leftovers and I want to be a luxurious must have. I want a complete conversation, open and honest. When men become too successful, or not successful enough they can forget so much.  I wish I could have that much testosterone. They forget who helps and supports them.
Of course I have been fortunate to have seen their magnificent body, my memory is very long.
I want to be grabbed and ordered about sexually and told that I have to be good to him because he is working hard.  I do not want to end up saying all this to the speaking clock.  I know what time it is, it is going fast.  I know your mouth cannot form  the words I love you, even if it were true, but I sometimes need the lie to protect my innocence and purity. My ears and heart need this, because this gives me a reason to live. Asked why I like frenchman,  I think this is the only place in the world that understood crimes of passion. You have to love somebody very much in order to hurt them. Don't show the cockroaches on the wall, turn me to the beautiful orchids. In fact send me flowers. Go anonymously to a florist and dive into your very closed up bunker and find some financial shrapnel to throw across a counter.
The wound needs to be cleaned. I am a woman, I love deeply.  Since half the world are women, surely men have come accross one or two before, if not, if you have not met a woman like me, I shall have to teach them from the beginning, and if you have, don't tell me because my jealousy will be white hot.
When I see you I see just you. When you see me I would like you to actually open your eyes and see me.

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