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| | samedi, août 27, 2005

The city has become a maze of unhappiness and loss. I'm tired of going out. I'm tired of the dark sleazy discotheques, the hard stares of strange women, the smell of old beer and stale cigarettes in my clothes. I hate the lonely weekends.

It's late and I'm sitting at the counter in a lesbian bar, observing 2 angry butches pushing each other around. They're ready to start a fight any minute now. I'm thinking about going home.

As usual, just as I reach for my coat, I notice her walking in.
She is out hunting. She's tall and strong and moving gracefully. Her eyes lock onto mine and I try not to reveal the mixed up feeling of desire and fear inside me. She lures me out of the bar, into the black night. I can't help following her.

We walk through the small streets in silence. We enter late night clubs, spy around and leave out of restlessness. Bar after bar.
I know she hates to be alone. She’s always looking for company. I'm almost sure she will come home with me later, but first she will humiliate me for her weakness. There will be no way to avoid her stabbing remarks and her arrogant stare. She knows I want her and that's enough for her to despise me.

She wears me out. She throws her head back and laughs like a wolf. She snaps and bites and ridicules. I buy her drinks and the more she howls the less I utter. We drink until the last bar closes.

When we step outside into the shivering cold morning, I am broken and hurting and I don't care anymore. I want to go home. No more thinking or feeling. Just end it all.

“What do you want to end?” she asks. I can see the corner of her mouth curling upwards into an evil grin. Sheis sitting at my kitchen table and looks at me. Now that we are alone and after she’s humiliated me enough in front of everyone, she finally looks at me.

This is the confrontation.
If she wants me angry, she'll get me angry. I grab the bottle of whiskey on the table. Before she even realizes what I am up to, I empty the bottle into her face.
She's soaked and furious. The poignant odour of malt drifts through the kitchen.
"You smell." I tell her dryly.
She jumps up and tries to grab me. I have to duck to avoid her waiving fists.
"You nasty cunt!" she shrieks. "I'll teach you."

(to be continued...)

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