The Blackwidow Preying On Her Own Prey

A woman’s instinct is designed to predetermine a threatening havoc on an emotional investment. It’s such a waste that their inherent gift is consumed on determining when it’s going to happen while it’s always been expected of them. I would rather take caution on the impending risk a man can cause me.

So the blue-eyed guy stepped in. I found myself tugged between the war of principles and the woman I swore to deviate from. I fought every way I could to profile and classify him,  just as I did with all other subjects. My assumptions brought interest to a new classification, who had probably swept the strong ladies off guard.

I created a pattern for men’s orientation when preying for a prospect. Like serial killers, their prospects meet a specific physical trait and behavioral characteristics.  Once an opportunity comes in, he measures the extent of acquaintance. Her looks, the way she talks, or response to a bait are signaling factors to put a premeditation in action. First rejection is a blow on the head. Second failed attempt is a strike on the balls. 20 percent of men give up on first attempt when ego becomes a valuable commodity. Another practical reason is that, he’s not much into her or realized some traits to put him off. 80 percent move forward to chase more of the challenge. One fact about men is that they don’t walk through the gates of impossibility. That means, they don’t chase at 0 percent chance. So when someone tries to get his way on me,  a corresponding assumption is that I lead him to it.

I’m semipermeable. Even with some consistent perception I have about a lot of things, I still believe in the probabilities for anything… that despite the cold sheath covering my soul, the probability for falling exists. So I’ve learned to distance myself.. boxed in a world where everyone is a stranger.

The story started with the new guy, literally foreigner to pacific’s definition of poverty. I, with a bad reputation among his breed, came to him like a delight in hot summer. The surprises awaiting him lie on those rough edges and intricate corners.

There’s one association women aren’t aware of, as far as men’s classification. We are, but a food in a long list of menu. The appetizers are the good looking ones who temporarily disguises fullness but was never enough for their lack of content. The main-meal women are meant for a family, preconditioned for the taking to complete the nourishment. Whether it be bland, or great enough though, there’s always the cravings for dessert. It’s the can’t-get-enough food, taking away the too-much-fullness taste, satisfying the desires and always been sought after the hunger. The twist of the category, even with the transparency of each one’s significance is that, one often surges the need for sweets.. even without the rest of the food menu. Definitely bad for one’s health.. This is the blackwidow. And what they seem to be forgetting is that they get it because I want it.. If I don’t want it, then they don’t get it.. Their desires would give them nothing but dick spasms.

When I first saw him, I knew he was me, and I am he.. only more experienced.

It was the pre-empt course of fate that made this night. I went in the elevator, on my way to work when I found him. He was alone, mesmerizing in his black corporate suit. I didn’t fail his curiosity wearing tight black dress..

“7th floor, right?” in his tone, self assured that he could break my silence.

“Yeah. .” I replied back, then smiled at him. Talk some more please..

“So, you work in sales?”

“Yeah.. and you work in IT, right?”

“Yeah.. Anyway, I’m Matt” while he reached to shake my hands for an official acquaintance. Then I gave my name out as a short response. “I’ve only been here for like 2 weeks and will be staying for 6 months until we’ve established the sales department.”

“How are you doin with the whole night shift deal?”

“Still need some getting used to.. I just have a problem with getting to places. I could use a tour guide”

“I’m not the best person to ask for directions.. but sure we could get lost one time..” he laughed and eventually left him amused.

There is something about the eyes and the brain working hand in hand in sending a message. I could tell from the onset a man gets the chance for contact if an interest has been raised. More than 3 seconds of eye contact cannot be mistaken for anything but curiosity, the same way he had wondered why you were looking back at him and what you were trying to achieve at that moment. Second and third time are affirmations from both parties that it is more than just a random look. More than 5 seconds means examining details to see if it’s worth the time.

To me, leaving the door opened for men is like opening a box of gift that had gone boring. But meeting Matt gives me the unknown waiting to be discovered. He’s significantly tall for my size which makes me just right up to his shoulders. He’s white with patches of freckles I often find attractive while I’m evenly golden brown. His eyes are blue-deep set, lightened by short curved eyelashes.  He said mine are close to black which lighten to almost gray when gloomy. His hair is brown that gets stubbornly curly when grown long, compared to my long straight hair. My face is contrastingly small, matched with slanted not-so-small eyes, eetsy bitsy nose and lips that curves when I smile. His face has the softest tone like a kid eager to be touched.

I have a peculiar preference for a man. The main element for satisfaction is the unpredictable nature that comes with risks. In general, I like those who could pace with my stubborn nature…one who is sure of himself, capable of intellectual conversation, goal oriented and one who imposes authority based on logical reasoning. These are the qualities I love to challenge. Matt exudes the unquestionable figure, which hooked me more of wanting to know him.

My initial motive is to determine whether there’s a new ridicule to learn from the acquaintance. Every guy to me is a platter of a unique predator that requires a specific approach.. which could also mutate through time. What amuses me is the common behavioral pattern given the differences in social and cultural background. The truth, most often denied is their tendencies to depend on security,  directing us back to childhood wanting. Sex is just an alluring tempress temporarily occupying their minds from the real world. The way to their heart is knowing who they were as a kid.

 

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