This predator says he is an ordinary guy, ‘with a pretty face.’
That face gets him into all sorts of happy trouble. His beguiling features divert from his simple intentions of a conquest. The mouth alone distracts with a top lip that curls upward, a miniature smile of its own. However it is not a smile, but that is hardly his fault.
Neither was the sting of never having met his father. A person who is alive today, somewhere, but who keeps out of reach. Gone on to other marriages and the making of more children.
Now this kid is almost thirty. Not a kid anymore, technically. Not vulnerable anymore, theoretically. In his late teens he gained control of his looks and their startlingly powerful effect. Ladies approach him and he says they are, ‘endless’.
‘Oh, I am grateful,’ he flashes his Joker’s smirk. ‘How could I not be?’
Coolly detached he explains, ‘I prefer ‘cougars’ because young girls say stuff like, ‘You couldn’t handle this’, and I’m not going to lie they are good looking, but I tell them, Miss, I’d rock your world and break your heart. Girls get clingy. When I move on they freak out.’
Does this mechanical ‘endless’ turnover avenge the hurt? Earnestly he implores he loves his mother. By protecting her he shields himself from reality. Truth is she did not keep him safe, yes there are other more sordid secrets, and for this he will bear scratches on his heart.
As an adult all he has known are nights to brag about. On the crest of thirty there is the merest slack to his taut torso. He’ll always have his looks, to a degree, but changes are coming when pride will be forced to bow low. Until then, to the hearts yet to be mauled, take cover.
image by SUSAN SUGAR