My Nymphetamine Girl

[Misanthropik]

Alright, I've gotta rant about this, because if I don't, I'm going to explode. No, that's not the usual Miso entendre; I mean throw an actual shit-fit.

So there's this girl I know. I've mentioned her once or twice (in this part of the forum) as being someone who would do me more harm than good; but who I just can't get enough of. Her name is Ashley, and I've known her since I was about 19. Even with my knack for poetics and literary illustration, I can't begin to describe her other than in the most blunt and simplistic of terms. She is 4' 11", which drives me nuts because I have a thing for short chicks. She's got short, light brown hair that reaches just to the middle of her neck and curves inward; circling the softest and most lively of faces. She's got the roundest, most perfect little butt you've ever seen on a woman and her green eyes sparkle as though they've got bits of glitter sprinkled in their iris. But as sweet and joyful as her face is, her eyes twinkle with a sense of mischief and "naughtiness" which simmers just under the surface; betraying the fact that while she's an angel during the day, she's also a freak in the bedroom.

Just seeing this girl brightens my day. It sends my blood surging through my veins and my teeth grinding against each other in an overload of testosterone-fuelded anticipation. She is a drug. An absolute, addictive, life-encompassing narcotic. The problem with this?

Her particular brand of narcotic is Meth. She sends the blood boiling and the mind reeling into a frenzy; making you beg for more of her intoxicating scent. Her allure will make a man do things (or, at least, attempt to do things) he never thought he'd do. Just seeing her for a fleeting moment is enough to turn me into a fist-pounding neanderthal. I see her and my whole body burns with a mixture of adrenalin and testosterone and what could possibly be pure gasoline running through me. And in doing all of this, her narcotic qualities are slowly wasting you away as a person. Your head burns with an amalgam of emotions you can't identify and you can feel yourself being eroded from the inside.

When I first saw her, my heart stopped in my chest. I was 19; I hadn't had any real experience with women yet (I was with someone, but we were still dumb kids feeling things out), and when I saw her, it did something to me. Something deep and apparently permanent. More than half a decade later and I still suffer the effects of her presence. From the time I first saw her, I knew I had to have her. Be it for love, companionship, sex; I didn't know and I didn't care. I just knew that I had to have her in some way. And so began my year-long quest to get close to her. She was friends with my supervisor at the time, and while my supervisor was in her mid-thirties, Ashley was barely out of her teens, so I thought that surely she would have more in common with me than she would with our much older mutual friend. So I figured out where she worked - a 7-11 in town - and I started making nightly trips to get a slurpee with the intent of seeing her. We eventually became friends and she started inviting me to various get-togethers to hang out.

In getting closer to her, it was inevitable that I learned ever-more intimate details of who she was as a person. Unfortunately for me, the idolatrous angel which I had constructed in my mind was very different from the real Ashley. I learned that she was a pot-head and a frequent drinker - often to the point that she blacked out. She's since straightened herself out a great deal, and even if she hadn't, I no longer view weed and booze the way I used to. But, those weren't the worst of her faults. She has a nasty habit of jumping from boyfriend to boyfriend; and not always after checking with them first. As sweet and kind-hearted as she is, her mind is that of a highschooler, and I've watched her make dumb decision after dumb decision in the hopes that one of those dumb decisions will be the "right" one. They never are. So, fed up with making the same stupid mistakes over and over, she decided to swallow a bottle of pills and half a bottle of Jager before drifting off to sleep on the couch. Luckily, this situation was resolved in time, and she had her stomach pumped before any real damage could be done. In the aftermath of this incident, she broke down to me and told me that she was tired of being a fuck-up and that she felt like the whole world was this huge mountain which, try as she might, she simply couldn't scale. So I gave her a pep-talk. I told her that her life is worth more than she realizes, and that if not for her, I wouldn't be here today. You see, I too went through a very trying period in my life, and on one snowy night, I decided I would take one last trip to Walmart to browse around before going home and putting a gun in my mouth. As I was browsing, I saw Ashley and once again, my heart began to race. So I approached her. The two of us made one of my fondest memories by strolling around the store for a few hours looking at Christmas trees and gathering various items for the holidays. When we departed, I found myself infused with a new will to live.

I told her all of this and more, and it was enough to motivate her to get her life back on track. And that she did. Unfortunately, she's still the same dumb kid who does the same stupid things; only now she feels a sense of control over it all. She still clings to the same useless boyfriend(s) she did before, and she still makes half-baked decisions based on whatever whim happens upon her at the time. The only thing I did was make her feel more confident in those decisions.

On a few occasions, she's made an effort to get close to me romantically. In fact, when I was still with my ex, Ashley came to the realization that I was someone she should have been with, but that she had missed the opportunity. She was very disheartened by this. Of course, knowing Ashley, I can't possibly know if she genuinely realized that she wanted to be with me, or if I was just another able-bodied male in close proximity while she happened to be dealing with the consequences of another stupid romantic decision. That's something that gets to me. If circumstances permitted, would she really want to be with me? Or would I have just been another rebound of a rebound? I can never know. I would ask her, but quite frankly, I don't think she would know either.

She is the sweetest woman I've ever met, but willingly allowing her in would be like willingly contracting cancer. And when things ultimately fell apart, they wouldn't return to the way they are now. They would be worse, because we would hate each other. I would be angry at her for being the kind of person I couldn't rely on, and she would be angry at me because she likely couldn't grasp that fact. She once asked me why we couldn't be together, and I remained enigmatic. I told her that she simply had to trust me when I say that we can't be together. When I said that, I was with my heartless wench of an ex, and being the ever-faithful partner than I am, I kept Ashley at arm's length. Looking back, I wish I had dumped Melissa right there and had Ashley for at least one incredible night. But I digress.

Because of all this, it drives me crazy when I run into her. I'll see her at the grocery store, or at the gas station, or at Walmart, and it's like a struggling ex-junkie being accidentally dosed with a hit of his former vice. It sends my blood boiling and my hands trembling and once again, the claws comme out and my canines double in size and I become the same snarling beast that I was when I was pursuing her. Even with all of the sexual endeavors I've undertaken in the years since, she somehow has the ability to trump them all and make me want to rampage as the Moon does the werewolf. I know I'm probably being redundant at this point, but I really don't know how else to express it. It's not a logical feeling that I can identify and express reasonably. It's the feeling every 13-year-old boy gets when he glimpses the pages of a Playboy for the first time. There's no reason or logic or caution; there's just a frenzy that builds within you and you need to have more. Ashley does this to me, and all the while, I have to be aware of the fact that I cannot have her. I cannot and should not have her. This makes her the ultimate fix; unattainable and forbidden; a burst of magnificent bliss which would overcome my senses and lead inevitably to my death.

And as she pulled away from the gas station today, she pursed her lips and blew me a kiss before departing. The Moon is actively tempting the beast. Why? Fucking why? She has no fucking clue what that does to me. She has no clue what it does to me to know her most intimate and unspoken sexual desires. She has no idea what it does to me to know that she trusted me enough to make me privy to them. Since the day I saw her, she's been trying to make me another one of her dumb decisions, and I've been consciously aware of it. This drives me crazy, and no matter how much I try to stay as far away from her as possible; she always shows up. She always finds me, and she always sends me into a frenzy once again. The needle trying desparately to thrust its way back into my arm.

I need her to either come at me with full-force so that we can have our veritable clash of the titans before we both annihilate; like two particles colliding, or I need her to disappear; never to be encountered again. This roller coaster of fix/detox/fix/detox/fix/detox/fix/detox cannot continue. I can't take it.

[DLJ]

Ah! Miso, the word artist.
Awesome description of the pleasure / pain of love.

(06-02-2013 06:00 PM)Misanthropik Wrote:  ...
I can't begin to describe her
...

Liar! You can and you did.

(06-02-2013 06:00 PM)Misanthropik Wrote:  ...
a burst of magnificent bliss which would overcome my senses and lead inevitably to my death.
...

Honesty, dude, I can think of many worse ways to die.

Abstinence sows sand all over;
The ruddy limbs and flaming hair;
But Desire Gratified;
Plants fruits and beauty there.
- William Blake

[nach_in]

[Misanthropik]

(06-02-2013 06:32 PM)nach_in Wrote:  

THAT strapping gent knows of what he speaks.

[WeAreTheCosmos]

If you're smart enough to know that dating her is a bad idea... You should be smart enough to know that sex is sometimes just sex. If you're afraid of it negatively impacting her life, thats understandable. I only glanced over the story, but I don't think you've had sex with her... You don't need to start some serious relationship for sex. But hey, your call.

[Misanthropik]

Methinks "glancing over the story" is a poor foundation upon which to base an argument.

[Anjele]

She sounds like she is cute and fun and dangerous.

I get the attraction but over time those things can wear you out and wear you down. If you want some fun and crazy, for a while, she may be the way to go. If you want someone for a long time...this is a tough choice. Fun and dangerous can become wearying and detrimental in the long run.

Wish I had known that a long, long time ago.

[Misanthropik]

(06-02-2013 06:55 PM)Anjele Wrote:  She sounds like she is cute and fun and dangerous.

I get the attraction but over time those things can wear you out and wear you down. If you want some fun and crazy, for a while, she may be the way to go. If you want someone for a long time...this is a tough choice. Fun and dangerous can become wearying and detrimental in the long run.

Wish I had known that a long, long time ago.

I just plain want her to go away. The way a drug-user just wants to urge to go away. That's why I keep myself away from her; I'm trying to stay clean. But she keeps showing up and it's too much for me to handle.

[Anjele]

You have to talk yourself into a new image of her...as something that will drag you down...as most addictions will.

[Misanthropik]

(06-02-2013 07:21 PM)Anjele Wrote:  You have to talk yourself into a new image of her...as something that will drag you down...as most addictions will.

Well, that's the thing. I already see her that way. I know full-well that getting close to her would be like getting close to a succubus. But the temptation is way too strong to ignore. Even when the meth-head has sores on his lips and his body is frail to the point of collapsing into itself; he still feels the burning need to reach for the syringe or the pipe.

The problem is that we run into one another by accident. I don't seek her out and her brain is too baked from years of chronic pot-use to seek me out. But we run into one another by pure happenstance, and that's enough to get me going again. I've gotta be careful what bars I go to for fear that she'll be there.

If I had hair, I'd tear it out.