Think about the girls you still dream about, the ones from your past, the ones you never wanted to settle down with. They were irresistible to you, their messy lives were a mystery, their skin had always had too much sun, their hair was unkempt and their voices raspy.
You couldn’t touch these women; they had all their walls up. So, when they asked for your understanding and your advice, it was amazing. No, it was magical. Fucking them as they looked up at you, pleading with you not to stop, made you feel more like a man than you ever felt before. They needed you.
These women were your playthings, yours to use whenever, your very own bitches. Then one day they didn’t return your call or maybe they fucked someone else or told you that they didn’t need you. Oh dear God, the names. The names you called them that day, they make you ashamed even today. You were so angry. Your defences were broken. All of them. How could they leave? How could they not need you?
You talked to them at a later date, trying to play it cool, all the while wanting to scream how they broke the amazing relationship you had. Not realising that the only reason it was amazing was because they made it amazing.
These women, they loved you without clamping down on you. They loved you, but not like a mother or a wife – loved you like a lover should, like a girl should. Hard.