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Prey: Unlikely Mind-fucked Twins

Amanda Feels Unfortunate

By cora lynnishPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
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Pushing away at his hot skin rubbing against her own, she squirms, but weeps silently. Although there is a man's weight present upon her, there is also somehow no one there at all. She feels numb, as if her body was just "there;" a vortex for his picking.

He insists on chattering on and on with, "You are okay, you're almost as cool as her. Just relax, I really, really need this right now."

But, in reality who is giving whom a pity fuck? That's the mind-drain. He makes her think she is less than the absent beautiful woman who can't be there, while simultaneously putting her down just enough to insinuate in backhanded ways that she is "almost" as pretty too. He verbalizes needing her when he means he needs to get laid all while making her feel so low she needs him because no one else would show her this so-called affection.

The woman hates herself for getting involved in this at all. It's as if she's seeing herself from on a cloud, looking down on this scene for what it is really worth, crying and yet wonting for touch and hating his dumbass and her own dumbass all at the same twisted time. It is most difficult to explain this level of manipulation. She yields again to him. Her vagina does not get wet for at first, as if in certain rebellion. Yet, once his weight is upon her and she yields in total dissociation, she is back on her cloud and her vagina will in turn turn on her and excite. Her body will shutter, as if in disgust; it is easier to to cum just to end the insanity.

The Next One's jeans will be on to way too tightly and her boots won't be real Doc Martens, but out of nowhere she too will soon break down into tears while speaking to the Prior One:

“I knew he was yours. He only EVER talked about you. I didn't really want to get involved. He told me we'd go on a a nice date. He started talking all sweet to me by the fireplace. There was even candles. It was just last night,” the Prior One can hear the Next One's words tinkling out at both of them. In a moment this description sounds all too damn clear.

The Next One might want to yell about it all. The Prior One will have no idea why. If the Next One mutters any unclear words, the Prior One will know exactly what she means either way.

"It is not our faults. He is just an asshole," all the appropriate talk.

"The only thing I do not need is the play by play," (she knows it anyway.)

The Next One starts to sound like she is actually apologizing for sharing the same manipulative man! The Prior One has immediate scorn... and empathy. The Next One might present as still in shock. Then, it will be the Prior One's turn to be in shock at this, the kind of shock that makes a woman want to choke someone.

Women are good at helping others. We rally. We can handle someone else's crisis just fine. This exchange will be no different. The Prior One will quickly kneel with the next one her and allow her to cling to her body. The Prior One can wipe the Next One's tears.

She stated: "He always spoke so highly of you. He said you were his One. You were some kind of angel. You were too good for him. He knew you loved him and he lives in sorrow because he lost you. He said we could just hang out..."

Thinking back, the Prior One had readily blocked out was this talk, his rap, his M.O. It had been the same with her. There had been a perfect woman before her, too. She lived too far away. She was so pretty and perfect for him. They were in love. But, alas he had to move for work. Heartbroken, he just needed her like he needed a fix. That was the exact content of his lead into hitting on women.

He made women feel like they were just a warm body. He made them feel pity for him, for the perfect lover who couldn't be present, for the state of the world of torn apart loves. He stressed that it was hippy enlightened to "love the one you're with" and somehow, at least these two women had allowed this to be a disgusting type of turn on.

So many in between messages. The ones neither she nor I had words for anymore, exhausted. Women were set up against each other. He literally and systematically hit on women by making them feel bad about the “fact” that he had lost the love of his life when in reality he was the most awful sort of broken, a creep.

We two women here who might have been of the outcast set, one too fat for convention and one too skinny. He knew that. What is even more evil, is that I believe he felt warped pity for us and was gracing us with his bluffs only in order to draw us each in by our weaknesses. Until he has us alone, then he does whatever he wants. Nothing had enraged him more than when each of us saw him for what he truly is and began to try to run.

The Next One, Amanda, for some reason wanted to tell the Prior One all of this, as if she did not already know. Maybe she did so for complicated personal reasons, as if she still believed on some level of the brainwashing that the Prior One would want anything ever to do with him again.

The Prior One then begins to get angry, deflated, duped, tired, shocked yet not shocked, and mostly just disgusted by it all and what it meant for humanity. The Prior One simultaneously wants to hit the Next One for being so stupid, as she also wanted to hold her because of all of this, if only for a split second.

Great sigh that the Prior One also remembers “the one” for him before her too. She even had known that chic's first name. The Real One had lived on the West Coast in a real city and was cool, trendy, thin, and had a shaved head. She was a poet. She was tall and willowy. She had a better music collection any other woman on earth.

These were the stories used to hook vulnerable women into feeling bad enough for him to start fooling around with him. Simultaneously, by focusing us on another “better” woman for him we grow to feel desperate to please him, an otherwise poor and sickly-looking choice. Both women expressed having felt desperate to obtain any remote kind of love from him for herself in turn. So much easier and highly less socio-pathetic just to ask women he assumed were less popular just to hook up. Skip the messing with minds.

Amanda and the Prior One walked away from each other after a relatively short verbal exchange. There was so much not said. There was just no need. Neither woman really wanted to feel akin. As the Next One was still whimpering as if she would have liked to “bond” with the Prior One. Both women were actually bonded, however; by a similar very fucked up experience. Yet, standing together feeling as exposed in their stupidity as if naked, the women also quietly resented each other.

Neither one of us thought to tell an authority figure either, no, not at all. There would have been nothing illegal to tell. The shame at being duped by an abuser held inside in a spot that seemed way too personal, too raw did not allow us to care enough to work to break the cycle. What would have been the point in attempting to effect change against some man as one abuser in the world where obviously he hated women, but wants lots of sex from them.

Amanda, sits alone in a bar, chugging alcohol, so alone, but not at all unique. Her mind wanders. She crosses her legs up toward the top. She looks around the room. Is there a man around- one who gives off a negligent vibe, one who might resurrect this level of inner question, this level of prey-victim-mish-mosh stuff. Now she figures she will just do it to him, a slacker or mundane one. She has learned an approach. On to the Next One herself.

feminism
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About the Creator

cora lynnish

Socio-political Implications Grrl, Pop Psychologist from Perspective of The Cured, Ex-Feminist by Degree, Musically Eclectic, Post-Bisexual, Old School Thinker, B.I.T.C.H. & Not Sorry, Non-Drunk, Unpopular, Un-Shy. The "how" we live.

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