I might as well confess. I’m a vampire. Well, sort of. Not that I enjoy sucking blood or detest garlic. But when it comes to feeding from the blood of virginal girls, I can easily relate to them. I feed from the emotions of emotionally virginal boys. I feast on it. I crave it.
When boys experience certain love related emotions for the first time they get this look in their eyes. Like sweet and innocent little deers driven into a corner by a hunter and facing the barrel of a gun. Shocked and surprised the world can feel this way. Maybe even a tear will flow they never felt like flowing before. This can happen concerning a whole, but relatively small range of emotions: from their girl leaving them, via their girl somehow hurting them, to the girl they are in love with not wanting them. Consequently, they start sulking.
And that’s were the turn on begins. Oh heaven help me, just looking at them, hearing them sulk, feeling that tension in the air and in their voice and around their entire body. It makes me feel unbelievably alive. I want to hug them, tell them everything will be alright. And in my hug I long to feel their energy run through my veins. Vibrant and addictive. This feeling, I can imagine that’s the way a vampire feels when virginal blood flows through his body. This may sound sick, but it’s true.
When I was still with Willard, my ex from hell, I used to upset him enough during a fight so he’d start crying. Deliberately. This way I felt on top, could make it up to him, feel that energy flow through me, and everything was alright again (for a few hours that is). I admit, not a very constructive situation.
Luckily, Matt and I have a more healthy distribution of crying near each other. I’d say the proportion is 1 to 10 or so, which makes him fit in the category ‘a real man but in a healthy connection with his emotions’.
The first time he ever cried because of me, I’d been really pushing it. I needed to know what it would feel like if he did, and if he could at all. Results were devastating. I can still recall the exact sound of his voice breaking. I was shocked and amazed by the kick I got from this. Like a gigantic supernova bubbling inside of my stomach. But most of all it hurt like hell to see him being hurt. It nearly killed me. This wasn’t something to repeat in the future. I knew I needed a good substitute for my addiction.
As we speak I haven’t come across a better substitute for real life male emotions than the boys of McFly. This British punkish poppy boy band of four guys in their early twenties is precisely sufficient to provide the feelings I need for my weakness. Their songs are filled with angry and sad lyrics about feeling hurt by girls. Indeed, classic sulking behaviour.
For instance: “Cause obviously, she’s out of my league, how can I win, she keeps dragging me in and I know I never will be good enough for her.”
Ain’t that horribly sweet? A person with more life experience wouldn’t waste so much emotion on such relatively trivial situations. And they sing it all so dramatically. Usually accompanied by such delicious bombastic, heavy music. It’s my methadone for the heroin I need.
Not only do McFly sing about unreachable love, but also about when love that has gone wrong and the girl’s to blame.
“But if you turn your back on me now, when I need you most but you chose let me down, down, down, won’t you think about what you’re about to do to me…”
At this point I’ll be lying on the ground, eyes to the ceiling, smiling, butterflies flying around in my tummy.
“Life’s a bitch, and so are you.” “So I hope you choke and die on every single lie, look what you’ve done to me.”
I smile infatuated. They can tell me anything, I will submit to them, fall to my knees and surrender. As long as they are happy again.
It may sound pathetic, but it’s simple and easy. It’s the perfect solution. Matt doesn’t have to suffer due to my kicks. And I can get them anytime I need. And there is something in it for Matt to. Because there’s one aspect of a domestic quarrel I can’t do with the McFly boys. And that’s make up sex.
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