Once there was this girl who was so damn mean, that I couldn’t help it but to fall in love with her. As helpless as a baby mouse in a boiling vat of taffy, I’d stopped trying to wriggle my way free from her million dollar grasp a not so good, solid year after I’d met her. Margot Slain was her name, and exploration to excavation of the loveless man’s heart was her game.
Here she was, she’d make a fuss, a damsel if ever there was such a thing, passively looking, for any man left that might so willingly prop her to that next wrung up in the ladder of her emotionally battered life. The woes and the has-beens weighed a ton in the unseen satchels that surrounded her. But it was always the men who’d carry the load, until they all became too heavy for this month’s current flavor, moving on to some other sap to bear the brunt of all this girl Margot had to offer.
And there was obviously something there, for sure, otherwise, how would she ever have gotten away with any of it in the first place? At first she was cute, and then she was pretty. She wasn’t all that much funny, or particularly poignant, but she wasn’t stupid either. Filled with interesting ideas, and insights that weren’t without merit, far from it. Though she’d keep her thoughts and her ideas to herself as best she could, in hopes of limiting the risk, or possibility rather, they’re in, that one of these men might find her just a tad overwhelming. An idea that might have made a lesser mind uncomfortable, being that Margot focused almost primarily on men, or boys rather, who God-forbid, would never allow a woman to challenge their fragile being.
Now I’d met Margot about ten years prior…