I’m a Ruthless Bitch

If you’re familiar with Alice in Wonderland, you’ll know the Queen of Hearts is a tyrant –  she rules over Wonderland with selfish and cruel dominance.  If she doesn’t get her way, she shrieks “oooowffff with his head!!!”  If one of her living footrests are too slow to produce their warm bellies for her cold pleasure, “oooowfff with his head!!”  she’ll bellow.

Much like the Queen of Hearts, I too believe a beheading is the answer to all my problems.  In my Wonderland, when men let me down, I yell “give him the flick!!!”  All the poor bastards’ need to do is criticise my driving, open a door for me or if he takes over an hour to text me back, “give him the flick!!!” I’ll yell.  God forbid if he slaps my ass while I’m walking past – he’s out the door so fast he wonders if the memory of me might be a dream.  He’ll text me a couple of days later to see if I might of existed.  I do not reply – no doubt reinforcing his paranoia that I was always a figment of his imagination.

One man, who I call ‘the Brazilian’, escaped a beheading for a good two months.  He was my flatmate so I had to maintain a level of civility.   When he moved in, we got along really well.  We would cook yummy dinners for each other and have interesting and meaningful conversations, which ultimately deepened our friendship.

One night he came home with a couple of bottles of wine and declared he was going outside to drink and think by the fire.  After a while I went out to join him. He was quite drunk and morose and started talking deeply about his feelings.  Suddenly he stood, swaying a little with a glass of wine in one hand and a small bottle of fire accelerator in the other.  He dramatically doused the fire and along with the resulting roar, he swung around to face me.  I wanted him to sit down as I feared he might fall into the fire. “No! I must declare something to you!” He spectacularly announced. I told him to move away from the fire and be careful. He swung around and took a couple of wobbly steps away from the fire and swung back dramatically.  He then lifted his arm high above his head, and just like a triumphant matador winning a bull fight, he threw the bottle of fire accelerator onto the ground.  Then with both arms out wide, still clutching his wine glass, which was now empty, he readied himself for a grand announcement.

He kind of looked like Michael Jackson in the video clip Dirty Diana.  He had torn at his shirt so the top buttons had ripped off and his bare chest was exposed.  His long curly, black hair was blowing wildly in the Wellington wind and his arms were outstretched with clenched fists – how the wine glass stayed intact – I do not know.  He had a mixed look of wrought angst and determination on his face.  Then, with unbridled passion and fervor he declared his love for me – “I love you!!” he shouted.  And then fell backwards down the bank behind him.  Thankfully, after about two minutes of crashing around in the bush below, he emerged and conceded he was fine.  I put him to bed and wearily went about putting out the fire and cleaning up broken glass and spilt liquids.

So of course, the Brazilian required a beheading.

There is nothing wrong with being single. I would much rather be alone than be with the wrong person.  I think it’s important to build the life you are happy with and when someone special comes along you should not have to give it all up. Obviously some equal contribution is needed when finding a middle ground, but in order to continually live wholly and happily – it’s important to know what you want to keep, give up and what you are willing and able to contribute.

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