Prologue: The Women Are Rubbish Chronicles
Natasha – Told me to fuck off, when I’d done nothing wrong.
Maria – Confused the hell out of me, and lied.
Theresa – Lied about every single little detail, then ran for it.
Gina – Took an exclusive relationship, before abandoning it.
Chloe – Dangerously flirted, but ignored my stupid affections.
Cherish – Lied. Knew of my past experiences, but still lied.
Emily – Flipped out when I said I liked her, ceasing conversation.
Brittany – Switched to some silent distant “friends” bullshit.
Mel – Found new love, while still with me – dumped via text.
Those are just names. Names mean nothing to strangers, but these are all people I’ve had intense feelings for in different ways, and painful memories always slip back whenever they say hello, their name pops up somewhere, or I find myself eating their favourite kind of cheese.
ALL of my personalities seemed to get affected, and I couldn’t separate myself from this.
It got to the point where I wished I wasn’t straight just because women were such scum. A ridiculous number of them, in a row. Now I long for the day where some large-breasted alien comes knocking on my door demanding marriage, perhaps it’s the only path to a truly satisfying relationship.
Chapter One: A Slow Start
Childhood. The worst ‘hood for a “brutha” to live in.
Life was certainly one knock back after another, in a world where I was the nerdy kid, well and truly before nerdy was cool. Back when the combover was seen as lame, because the crue cut was in. What a bleak and horrible world we live in.
I would bravely carry my lanky little body all the way over to a girl I admired, or found pretty, only to be sworn at. Rather extreme really. I’d developed too much of a reputation. “That’s Adrian, he doesn’t date people”, or “That’s Adrian, he doesn’t do hugs”.
It seems I was somewhat badass for a kid who probably would have been easy to beat up. I didn’t know what it meant to “ask someone out” or why it had to be done, or why everyone else was doing it and I wasn’t included. But women have been, and will always be evil. Does ‘fate’ dictate that opposites attact? Is that why I end up with the worst that humanity has to offer, and miss out on these “nice women” I’ve read about in fiction, and seen depicted in films?
When I was quite young, there was a girl with short blonde hair I’d never met, whom, at times gave me the eye. And not the “”fuck off!” eye that I’d become accustomed to. A male friend I had at the time, had chased this girl for the sole purpose of pushing her over, and me being my heroic self repremanded it for him quite openly, not caring or realising that she could overhear.
My friend walked away, and I followed him, still telling the lad off for what he’d done. I never saw that girl again, and sort of regretted telling my friend off, wishing instead that I had helped the poor pretty lass to her delicate feet.
Adrian: …Hi there.
Normal school girl: Eww. Go away!
Adrian: … Alright.
Children indeed can be so cruel. Girls even beat me up as a younger child. Scary scary people they were indeed. Things could only get better, right? Stomp on that filthy optimism and read on to Chapter Two!
Chapter Two: Go To Hell, Nerd
than reprimand someone on their behalf.
Now we’re in high school, grade nine. First “girlfriend” I ever had, her name was Natasha… she was a new kid who was a couple of years younger, apparently a taboo within the damned communist walls of the life that exists 9:00am-3:00pm.
She seemed innocent in the way in which she flirted. First person I’d noticed to ever pay me that kind of attention… so I’d casually sit with her when she was alone… she didn’t have the voice of an angel, nor the figure of one, but through her harsh Australian accent, I suppose it was just her smile that grabbed me. Shallow I know.
Adrian was the guy who “Doesn’t go out with anyone OMG LOLZ!” so… the fact that I was even sitting near a girl meant that in no time, the whole school literally pointed and laughed at us. It was like that bad dream, but thankfully I had my clothes on.
They had noticed us sitting close, and that she wasn’t spraying pepper in my face.
She stopped talking to me after that, and would just strategically hide her face when passing me. I attempted to approach her directly but the gramatically incorrect, yet powerful words still haunt me “Oh my God just fuck off away from me!” so I went back to being an eyesore on my own.
This was the first time I’d acted on a crush, ever. People would normally hurl insults to ensure that I never liked them to begin with. I suppose acting upon a crush was seen as some kind of a sick mistake.
Usually the people I had even the slightest interest in were too “hip”, and I’d have no idea if they were dating someone or not… or the people I’d have a crush on would just downright hate my very existence.
Since I was not permitted to do the things that normal people did, I started to find comfort in a world away from school. And that’s where Chapter Three will lead us…
Chapter Three: Oh My Maria!
The lesson learned from the last chapter:
Don’t bring harm to the reputation
of those who treasure their popularity most.
If you do: logic dictates you will lose them anyway.
This will also avoid unwanted attention. Being a ‘freak’, I should have known better than to fall for a ‘popular person’. Sorry this ‘lesson’ doesn’t sound as ‘poetic’ as the last one. Sorry I have a ‘habit’ of using ‘inverted commas’.
Perhaps I had the negative reputation in the real world for a reason and it was something I couldn’t escape. I had to meet new people; people who had no prior knowledge of me. This is where my story becomes embarassing and shameful. This is where I let my previously rejected affections out onto the Internet. As much as I will try to hide that fact, that is where a majority of the remaining chapters will take place.
The first hungry leech to snatch up these affections, and bleed them dry until her vampiric belly was full, was Maria. Originally I had stumbled upon her in some chat room for pseudo-goths and Wiccans, as I figured they’d be the only people that would help me infiltrate the Harry Potter chat rooms with naught but horrible abuse for the sake of fun.
Sick with infatuation, my goofy smile was noticable among both friends and strangers. I started skipping instead of walking, like the kind of people I hate. I had enjoyed making her “LMAO” and spent much time with her on the telephone, or shouting jovially to her mother via a computer microphone.
Such imagery as ‘cuddling in front of a fireplace’, or ‘kissing in the rain’ was often fantasized and shared. However when it finally came to meeting arrangements, she conveniently disclosed her actual appearance. Rather than her ongoing lie for physical compliments.
My trust slipped away, and my dreams of the face I had complimented and loved became skewed. I tried to continue talking to her, as she had at least come clean and apologised. But my mind had fallen to pieces before this stranger’s eyes.
Who would sweep up these pieces, before flinging them into a fire? That, dear friend… will be explained in Chapter Four.
Chapter Four: Confess, Witch.
For your foolishness will have no grasp at all
On the person in front of you.
If you’re a woman, I suppose the lesson is:
Chapter Five: Subplot – The Gina Convention Part 1
The lesson learned from last chapter:
Trust each new woman as much
As you would a convicted paedophile.
Untrustworthy ’til proven reformed.
My image of a paedophile used to be of a hilariously optimistic ‘evil genius’, looking for prey while trying to hide himself as a 12 year old girl with pigtails and a pink dress… Now my image is more a frightening apparition who’s never seen and is always one step closer to raping you than you might think. My image of women has evolved in a similar fashion.
I apologise that the following Soap will actually make you feel less clean if you’re foolish enough to read it…
The next girl that I allowed myself to love was Gina. I spoke to her, and several of her friends. I knew she was real… well, confirmed. We shared frequent video chats and phone conversations, her friends would giggle and tease me on the phone. My feelings swayed between her, and several others that I met over a course of time, but she was always there to cheer me up when I was feeling about as miserable as someone that had just seen Home Alone. We were valuable and useful to eachother, she didn’t come across as a blood sucking leech.
Her flirtatious nature was strangely fresh and appealing to me, allowing me to open up and spill whatever remained after each woman betrayed me. She was a fine friend, whom I admired for everything about her that was different from myself. She had a boyfriend of her own, but as I’d fallen for her – I didn’t wish to hear about him, as it caused jealousy and uneasiness in conversations but she understood that if I were to show her pictures of myself with a woman, that she would feel the same.
Her partner had made the first move, and cheated on her anyway so Gina and I blossomed. For well over a year, she was like a fine bottle of whiskey that I turned to for either celebration, for fun, or for drowning my sorrows. She was there, she was wonderful, she got along with my friends, and I got along with hers.
We’ll come back to Gina a little later as I haven’t even mentioned the girl who was usually sitting beside her, although I should have, and that’s where the next chapter will take us…
We’ll be back with more lessons filled with excessive anger, right after this short interval.
Chapter Six: With Apologies To Chloe Part 1
They may not all be swine.
But please do not forget:
I’ve not finished this tale of mine
Chloe was Gina’s best friend, and became someone that I grew to like a little too late. The “safe” sort of girl, though still too far away.
Chloe was often sitting at Gina’s side, taking turns in talking to me whilst I did my best to entertain. A relatively quiet girl, keen on her literature and improvisation – but she was usually unseen, or just out of frame. Picture seeing someone’s elbow on the edge of a photograph, a witty pretty elbow.
She was always a delight to talk to, and her mannerisms were simply endearing. I’d spend all night talking to Chloe sometimes. I’d go into more detail, but you wouldn’t like that. This chapter is long enough as it is.
Whilst Gina bounced about and flirted to my delight, I’d failed to properly acknowledge the existence of this intelligent, rational, moral, quiet, calm girl beside her in the shadow. I’d foolishly treated them as one and the same, as “My Alaskans”, except when it suited me otherwise.
It was only in amidst a giggling conversation of multiple girls, in a game of truth or dare that Chloe was persuaded to send me a love letter (in colourful markers, with lots of love hearts), that I realised something profound… She had actually developed some form of romantic feelings for me, all jokes aside.
I felt like a dick. I felt like I’d “chosen the wrong one”. I suddenly placed myself in Chloe’s shoes and realised how much it must suck to be treated second best. I had gone for the shiny expensive car that goes ‘vroom’ instead of the sensible quiet reliable one that would last for ages.
I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m sorry I didn’t see you.
The lesson learned from this chapter?
Chapter Seven: A Memory Not Cherished
Just because they’re not all bad, doesn’t mean it didn’t all end up being just rubbish, really. Even the nice ones hurt, maybe a little more – because you can’t just convince yourself that they’re a whore. My rhymes are bad when they try to be sad.
The next girl that I liked a little too much, the next addition to this “Women That Are Rubbish” list, was Cherish.
Cherish was an American girl being home-schooled in Japan. She had curly long brown hair, and a pale white face. Instead of being one of those people who treat conversations relatively casually, she’d persist and almost demand a response as soon as she’d asked a question – even if it was nonsense. Somehow this never got annoying.
Cherish, however, did not have much time left to live. She was not scared, even though she was dying. I guess she had religion to fall back on. I assured myself that I didn’t love her out of pity, and presumably assured my friends Chloe and Gina as well. I wanted to book a flight to go and see this cheerful, shy girl, no matter how depressing the experience may be.
Time passed, but thankfully Cherish seemed okay, suspiciously. And the urgency for a flight subsided.
The truth seeped out of that lying bitch like undrinkable sludgy coffee from one of those machines… Why would she use a picture of her sister? What kind of person says they’re dying when they’re not? Why would anyone manipulate and fuck with people like that? Especally when they knew my of my past? This was the last time I fell for such ‘womanliness’.
I’ve only seen a small image of what Cherish actually looks like. This frustrating scenario and breach of trust left me with nowhere to go. I was fed up. I’d been here before, and was damned fucking pissed about it. It was over. I no longer had any “special” or “exclusive” feelings of any kind. Most of my memories of her became an angry blur left forgotten.
Chapter Eight: ****-Teased At School
The lesson re-learned from last chapter:
a FUCKING thing they say.
Emily was a somewhat conservative Christian girl from my Drama and English classes who hated me, but wasn’t polite enough to admit it, or actually show any disgust toward me. We’d often have heart-to-heart conversations during lunches at school. Just the two of us. I’d talk through my problems, and she’d talk through hers. I finally had a person to hug, a person who gave a crap in the real world. Until the incident…
I was on anti-depressant medication at the time, we were pretty close friends, but she had a boyfriend. Unfortunately while I was feeling ‘awesome’ on medication, I did something stupid, I sent her a text message: “I love you, Emily“.
Nothing more, nothing less.
She took it as just ‘me being nice’, and didn’t know how much I actually meant it and just replied with “Thanks, love ya too“ , at least I assume that’s what the message said; Bless her abbreviating li’l heart. I then talked to many of my friends that I had at the time, and they all collectively convinced me I should tell her how I feel, and how to do it… how. So I built up whatever was left of my courage and sent her this:
“Emily, I’m in love with you, I’m sorry, and I hope that we can be friends. You are a wonderful person and I will always be here for you. Love, Adrian.”
“I’m sorry if my message has startled you, I don’t wish to interfere with you and your boyfriend, I hope that you will have a wonderful time with him, and, that we may still remain friends. – Adrian.”
Don’t like my usage of curse words? Well, fuck you. You’re a bitch. I’d only used the word “crap” anyway.
Spiteful outbursts aside, I had been “cock-teased” which sadly has no appropriate synonyms that I can find online. Anyway, that was my social suicide. Luckily I didn’t have a social life to begin with. Close call there.
See if you can guess the shitty lesson to this one, as we draw close to an unthrilling finale! Awesome! What will be the next lesson? Will there be pirates? Why is Tony gay? Most of these questions won’t be answered, but just in case they are – stay tuned.
Chapter Nine: Life’s a Britt
refuse yourself the ability to be “cock-teased”
by a woman, or any other alien species.
Now that I’d had enough of women being vague, manipulative creatures that expected me to be some kind of psychic with the ability to change reality – perhaps girls with a more forward approach would be appreciated.
Chapter Ten: The Gina Convention Part 2
Disgustingly vague, bad eggs.
That is all.
Chapter Eleven: With Apologies To Chloe Part 2
I’d become accustomed to having a friend I could be affectionate with, and now that she was gone perhaps Chloe would fill that void. She flirted slightly, but I read too much into it. I tend to take these sorts of things a little too seriously, and taking anything seriously at all is odd for someone who casually jokes about cancer, suicide, and almost any inane/insensitive crap.
She stopped me in my tracks. She said the flirting was fine, but that it didn’t mean anything… Sure she’d had a crush on me for a very long time, but that my being obsessed with someone else RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER meant she had to move on… (and she had moved on, rather genuinely, and pursued some jackass that ended up cheating on her a while later. She’s now a different person).
Basically, I was too late. She rejected me. She wasn’t prepared to try and act upon her old hidden crush, or re-kindle any old flame.
I was very, very alone. My friend of one year, Mel, was there for me… But I’d do the mature thing and wait until I stabilised instead of rushing into anything like some infatuated idiot…
Find out how she de-stabilised your faithful antagonist in the final tale of neglect! “Chapter Twelve: How To Lose Your Fucking Mind” coming soon!
Chapter Twelve: How To Lose Your Fucking Mind
Epilogue: End of Rubbish Women – Garbage Day
Damn trust.
Damn promises.
Damn neediness.
Damn loss.
Damn women.
Maria – held onto a lot of insecurity, and lied out of fear of rejection. She was sorry, and is married now.
Theresa – was an insecure compulsive liar, a breed of human I’d no idea how to deal with, I pity her current husband.
Chloe – was rightly too proud to be treated second best after so long. She accepted my apology but doesn’t talk to me much.
Cherish – didn’t know how to keep people liking her without her false stories. She was sorry, but couldn’t talk to me much after that.
Emily – never really liked me, I was just so damned lonely that her hugs left me infatuated.
Brittany – didn’t know what she wanted, and wasn’t accountable. She did try calling me once. I assume she was sorry.
Mel – Got scared, and found something familiar instead. It took 3 years to forgive her, we spoke briefly and quietly, then went separate ways in peace.
Emily – aka Miss Cock-tease, I misread her kindness and liked it too much.
2004 – Age 15, Year 10 No chance. No interests. No desire to be in a relationship.
2005 – Age 16, Year 11 Theresa dumped me in June, which triggered a clinical depression.
2007 – Age 18. Mel dumps me in June. My life starts getting better with single life.
But it may reveal their lack of worth.
