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The Coquette Effect

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Eyes twice glazed over, he sat there watching her. He could see her in the bedroom through the living room mirror. The bedroom door was open, exposing her in nothing but what she was born with. It was as if she knew he was watching, the way her body twisted, the moves she made. She spread lotion like warm butter to buns. Her back was facing him, and she bent down slowly, her hands clasping her left ankle. His head tilted as she bent, his eyes following every move she made. She could get anything she wanted from him, and he didn’t want to admit it was true. He didn’t know how he got himself into such a predicament. He didn’t even have the chance to think about it because he realized she was staring back at him through the mirror. Her grin said it all…she knew what she was doing. The bedroom door slowly closed, cutting off his line of sight. It was hard…being so close, yet so far away from someone he wanted but couldn’t touch. And he knew…he knew she did what she did, what she does constantly, in so many way…with purpose.

Power. The addiction of all addictions. So many women, for so many reasons, use the power of manipulation to rise to power positions. The action of manipulation does not always have to involve the act of sex, however to some women that is the quickest route. I am not here to judge, just stating the obvious.

The man, in today’s world, is still seen as the most powerful human species on the planet in most eyes. So, when a woman can effectively manipulate a man of power two things happen: (1) She first gains the attention and admiration of the powerful figure, and (2) the power he had, has now transferred. The power flows from him to her with each broken barrier, and vulnerability succumbs him. It’s a mental game, and she’s made a power play. It’s the art of manipulation. The addiction is within the knowing that she has what it takes bring such a powerful person down to his knees. The addiction is in the process (whether long or short) of seeing that man go from hulk to human, and kneeling at her heels.

So, what happens when the game is recognized and adversary plays are drafted and put into action? That man becomes the hulk he once was. What does she do? Move on to the next? And the next…until they all know her blueprint. Or maybe she does it until she grows older and less attractive? Until she has no option but to find the power, to find power within, and rise to the occasion. Discovering that of one’s self will truly display the art of mind manipulation.

 

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The Gambler Effect

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Heat radiated from her skin with each memory of his touch. She grinned as she heard the ruffling of the sheets as he moved. With her back towards him, she felt his arm slink around her waist. The bed slightly rocked with his movement. His deep baritone sounded off, “So what are you about to do?” Her smile slowly faded as she took her cue with minimal conversation. She found herself exiting his apartment, as her mind went a mile a minute. She came to the conclusion that this was the last time.

Days tuned to weeks and that last time was her last time, but at this point she didn’t think it was by choice. 11:47pm. Her phone nearly buzzed off the nightstand, and his name illuminated across the screen. With what she wanted to believe was a long drawn, hesitated reaction, she answered. The anticipation of the content of the conversation sent shock waves rippling through her spine. His voice rang out, “Come over, I want to see you.” She didn’t even recall her dress and travel, as she found herself facing that oh so familiar apartment door. With heat radiating from her skin…

Addiction. Just like any other addiction, there is a sort of adrenaline rush involved. In this instance there is a dire need for the anticipation just before she see’s or speak to this man. Unbeknownst to her, and most of women in these sort of situationships, it is not that man at the root of the addiction but the feeling we get just before the encounter. The excitement. The longing for the moment just before we lay eyes on him. The rush of knowing the risk-assumed behavior we are indulging in. Risking your vulnerability, and even more. With risk comes reward, right? Maybe. Maybe not.

When you walk up to a black jack dealer, do you know for sure you are leaving with what you are investing in the game? And even if you don’t win that day, you may just go back. Why are you going back? For the adrenaline you get when you sit down at the slot machines and you reach for the handle. For the moment you have all the lucky numbers and you are just waiting for that last digit to hit. That feeling…until that feeling is gone because your weren’t that lucky that time so you decide to finally walk away.

But then…someone else sits at your machine and that jackpot you so badly thought was yours now belongs to them. Chin up young lady, that jackpot was never yours to win. Self control is the lesson in addiction.

Alone

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A dark room. Pitch black. A spotlight blisteringly beams.

She stood in the midst of the spotlight, in the middle of the room. A shell of a human. What a shell of a human…

Scared and without sight. The spotlight goes out and though she is without sight she can feel the difference.

It is drafty. It is quiet. It is loud – with white noise.

A gut-wrenching scream pierces the depth of the silence as she clutches her right side, beads of sweat form upon her temples, and the feeling of liquid pours within her hands. Thicker than water, warmer than room temp…she knows.

One single click echoes throughout the room, she can feel the heat cascading onto her from above. The spotlight is back on shining brightly upon her, but not for long as the light slowly dims to the darkness that she’s once felt. The draft returns as if it has a rightful place upon her skin. Her pain is immense and her fear is real. She wants to run, yet fear of the unknown keeps her still. She feels as though what’s happening and what’s to come she can withstand.

A crucial blow pierces her chest as she simultaneously places her foot forward. So intense that it knocks her to the cold cement floor. The air escapes her lungs and mouth, unclenching her wounded rib cage she clutches her chest. She comes in contact with a cold metal object propelling from the core of her. She wants to yell for help, scream in agony, in hopes that someone will hear her and remove this dagger from her chest. She musters the energy to try to rise. She knows she has to make a run for it, no one was coming to her rescue anytime soon.

And as soon as she was upright, she felt the heat. The spotlight. A torn feeling fell upon her. When the heat of the spotlight graced her flesh she knew…she knew she was safe from the inflictions of pain…she knew too, it would only be momentarily. So with one hand to her chest, securing the position of the dagger and the other clutching her broken and exposed rib cage, she ran. The spotlight flows and follows as she ran…10 feet…she struggles…an additional 6 feet…she pushes…26 more feet.

She ran but the absence of the spotlight stopped her in her tracks and then almost immediately she heard another echoing click. She exuded excitement with the thought that it was the sound of the reappearing spotlight granting her a chance to flee but what brought her from her fantasy was the lack of heat felt and the presence of the cold floor and her left knee connecting. Her body crashed to the ground she had no additional hands to tend to her broken limb. There she lie. The pain numbing her. She was exposed.

The vultures caused damage to the frame of her soul…the core of her spirit. They took away her ability to run away from her brokenness. And her sight…in this moment that was not something taken from her, fore that was something she was born without…raised without. She never had the ability to see a positive model on how the components of the soul should be cherished.

Motionless. Alone. She lies there, figuring it out. Eternally, the spotlight is on

The Beautiful Psyche

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Disclaimer: All women are different, in different ways. The expressions below may not apply to all women.

First thing’s first, definition of the day: Stimulus ( pl. Stimuli)

1.) something that incites to action or exertion or quickens action, feeling, thought, etc.

In psychology, some would define a stimulus as a change in energy received by the senses. I would hope you remember your five senses right? Great!

Now day in and day out we hear men say that the way women think is abnormal, unconsituted, and even illogical. Women are emotional, unstable creatures of the world they say. Well men, I would prove you wrong if it were possible. There’s always some exceptions, however you’re  correct.

Let’s think about it: We should agree that every action has a reaction. Go back to the basics people, we know this, we learned this in school. So, as the emotional, unstable creatures of the world it should concurringly be known that our emotions are evoked by the stimuli which feeds our senses. Sound familiar? Action | Reaction

If a woman sees that the love of her life is showing affection to another woman it may push her to slash a tire or two. Hey, now I’m not saying it’s ok to go around giving your boyfriend’s tires a little surgical procedure. I am saying that here we have a stimulus (the action of her lover giving affection to another.) We have that stimulus causing a shift in energy (the rage gained from what was witnessed.) Now, the reaction…could have been handled differently to say the least.

Now to my wonderful male reader who couldn’t quite grasp the message in that last example due to the cloudiness that was the craziness, I can do you one better. Let’s talk about sex! 

Remember: Action | Reaction  &  Stimulus | Energy Change

With a lot of women, sex is not all about the physical. In most cases, its majority mental stimulation that drives the appetite. [Hey there’s that root word again!]

You can have sex with your woman and not talk to her at all. You don’t caress her one time, nor do you allow her to caress you at her own discretion. [Talk, Caress | Hear, Touch | Senses] This could be a recipe for a Sahara Sandwich.  -OR-  You could do all of these things and you both are as happy as Flipper in the deep blue sea. Here we have a stimulus (the action of talking and/or caressing.) We have that stimuli causing a shift in energy (the inticement/emotions gained through her senses.) Now, the reaction…imagination can get you further here.

 Breaking it down to say, it is not inhuman to be driven by emotion. Sometimes as not only women, but human beings, embracing how you feel is not so bad, and rewarding on occasions. Controlling (…or not controlling) your actions behind those emotions is an entirely different story of which I have no experience to share, so if you feel like there should be a part two to this post on how to do so…don’t hold your breath.

Guardian of Peace

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A Moment in Time

At times I crave safety. Security. Though not endangered physically, I yearn for a safe haven away from the inner workings of my mind.

Sometimes, I dream of a moment. A time in space where silence falls and my unconsciously conscious mind mutes. All the while I am submersed within the grips of you. Your arms come together to form what becomes the lock which blocks the wonders of the world from seeping through. The circumference of your position is the vault custom made for me.

Your heartbeat is the key. It has all the power.

It has the power to keep my focus on the nothing that is taking place at that very instance. It has the power to unlock my vault and throw me to the wolves that await to devour my peace of mind. Most importantly, it has the power to keep me, shield me. To give such a beautiful moment.

A moment of which everything matters, yet nothing matters at all. A moment in which everything is in existence, yet there is no movement whatsoever. A moment of pure bliss. Of safety. A moment of security. A moment of you…of me. A moment of simply being.

Luxurious Release 2: Undone

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This is the bittersweet misery beloved by what used to be.

The windshield is greater than the rear view. This is so for a reason. Rear view recollections causing momentary visual impairment to what is forthcoming. This can cause collision. This may cause setback. This will result in lessons learned and newly-founded appreciation. This will reveal the reflection…of you.

To be a witness of what was not bestowed upon me unravels the deepest of emotions known to [wo]man. For it is not what makes a flame ignite, but makes a soul quiver. It has potential to shatter each quadrant of the heart with only a single breath taken. It fuels doubt, both self and oppositional. It hinders confidence to the point of mere darkness.

To come undone permanently, under the pressures of you…means that I have not gained one lesson. Though ephemeral…ephemeral means that I am still human.

The happiness that lies within your life is music to my ears, yet and still it’s the sun in my eyes. Wanting to bathe and bask in the sun though it’s just too difficult to remain attentive. For this, I look away. For this, I shade my sight of you. For this, I travel far away even if only for a night or two.

With distance I can breathe again. My airways are clear and roadways are widely open. My heart has normal rhythm. I’m back on road and my mind is simply hoping, that the wide screen of the windshield will deter me from the rear. The promising vision of what’s beyond, it’s not a mirage and goddamn I’m nearly there.

—-

This is to you
This is too you
This is for me

The Beautifully Insane: Renewing Love

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Disclaimer: In this post the definition of insanity will not reflect the original definition, yet the defined philosophy belonging to Albert Einstein. 

Let’s discuss the hopeless romantic. The ceaseless broken-hearted. The lover of love. We will label this person a woman. Though there may be many men whom fit these adjectives, this one is for my warm-hearted women.

She comes into womanhood with a heart big enough to bring world peace. Willingly, she gives her all [heart] to a singular person with hopes that the gesture is reciprocated. She goes through hoops, trials, and heartbreak in hopes that her feelings aren’t taken for granted. With hopes that the feelings are mutual. After however long, she realizes that she began the phases of mourning: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Once the final stage is upon her there is momentary relief, a chance to get to know herself a bit more. However, after small relief her heart yearns for companionship and it happens to fall in her lap again. For whatever reason, the cycle continues down the same path for some time.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. In this situation I would pose the question: Is it insanity to continuously open your heart to others with hopes that it will be handled with care? Is it naive?

Is there a point in time where she should say enough is enough, I will not allow my passion to give love destroyed me? Do we believe this is wise or do we believe this is bitter? Let’s look at it. While one woman goes the hardened heart route the other goes through the cycle once more.

Ms. Tough-titts shuts down every new relationship she encounters in fear of another tragedy. She becomes the guardian of her own heart no longer able to recognize what’s in its best interest and what isn’t. Do we label her wise? Or do we label her coward? Some may label her bitter. Or some may label her a bitch.

Is it better to act negatively as a result of a negative outcome? With those negative views and fears comes the negative stereotyping. Now, though the way others think of you reflects upon themselves and not upon you, it is safe to say that it causes momentary influence on your spirit.

On the contrast, Ms. Insanity is whirled within the cycle yet again. Entering the cycle with a smile, a broad heart, and a light spirit. She now has one more outcome than Ms. Tough-titts. Either she will go through and end the cycle as she did before or something great can emerge due to what she is willing to offer. The difference in these two women and what they are willing to offer is simple and can be concluded in one word: Faith.

They say that faith is complete trust and belief in the unseen. When that faith in love becomes so great to the point where the cycle is no longer the case, the unseen becomes physically visible and spiritually felt. Insanity then becomes a flourished, thriving state of mind.