I am being 'loved' by almost everybody.
It would be a common courtesy to return the love but in my case, I specifically chose to feed more attention to two men. I can't get myself to call them "lovers" by any stretch of imagination, and, as a matter of fact, I don't believe in the traditional idea of love in the first place. After all, these guys (or most guys I met for that matter) as far as I can tell are attached to me only by a few threads of lust, and after those strands have been cut out I can surely tell they'll leave. Of course, I won't vilify them. As a matter of fact, I prefer my men that way. As long as I can move these threads cleverly, precisely, carefully...I can control them like puppets.
Human beings in general, are little bit like those donkeys you see in those children's cartoons, comically forced to run for the carrot waving itself back and forth in front of their eyes, attached to a fishing pole to maneuver wherever the person who holds the pole wishes to go. The carrot, or in my case, perhaps a rose, has to be so close yet so far, so I give them what they want without losing my worth, and I get what they want without tiring them out. That to me, is the right way to live: A win-win relationship where I win a little bit more.
For example. Say, there was a senior University student hunting for some freshers. He scans all over the place like an animal out for the hunt, maybe in groups if he wishes to feel a little bit tougher, maybe alone when he is sure he is the one on top of the food chain. He sees a girl, looking innocent as ever, with a body type and the face he likes.
That's when the hunting begins.
He sets up a grooming strategy, offering expensive drinks that he himself doesn't like to drink. He orders drinks with just enough alcohol added to it to get his prey under influence, but he wishes to make sure it's not too bitter so as to make it easier to offer more. He is out there, with his unseen fangs, with instincts guiding him, his desires masked under a face of virtue.
In my case in those situations however, all seemed too obvious. I was used to those sorts of approaches to attempt to hunt me down and make me fall on my knees, so I knew exactly how to gear my way out of it, not only escape from their fangs, but also to make them more submissive.
"Can I offer you a drink?" My presumed predator would say,
"I want to welcome you as a senior here."
Boring, boring, boring.
"Oh of course, thank you so much!" I'd smile. Free drink is good, but I also make sure I don't drink it too hastily. Who knows what may be inside?
"You okay with fitting in?" He would attack.
"Yeah. Everyone here is so nice to me." I would defend.
"Yeah, once you meet the right people this university is really fun." He'd put in a combo, following that up with:
"I want to introduce them to you sometime!"
This was a trap, of course. It's an offer that paints you as an hopeless introvert if you refuse, but a vulnerable prey if I don't. What this predator was interested in was not so much about introducing me to his friends (which I'm not interested in), but my number, my contact details.
"Are they as good looking as you are?" I chuckle 'innocently'.
"Ah- they're not bad yeah." He tilts his head, winks a little. "But I think I'm in the top end of that bracket you know?" He chuckles, attempting to get his joke in to make me laugh. I did, realising his intention.
"What about the girls, then?" I hold the cup he gave near my lips as if I was about to drink it.
"Are they pretty?"
If he says yes here, I could set up the notion of just being friends. If he says no here, or attempts to say I'm prettier, I could-
"They really are, but," The left tail of his mouth slightly moves up.
"I think you're prettier." He reached in. Took a step closer.
"Thank you, I'm not good with compliments, sorry." I took a step back.
"Why not? I'm sure you get them often. You look like you had a lot of boys hunting for you."
"Ah, I…" I stop. I feign a pause. It's as if I just got hit by a big, overwhelming memory. I hurriedly put down a drink. He was neither my type nor did he look like he had enough social status inside University to be able to benefit me. So it was the time to pull out my defense strategy.
"I'm so sorry, I can't. I can't." I breathe heavily.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry, I have bad memories about boys."
These boys may leave a bad taste in my mouth, but they're not exactly bad people. I just need to sprinkle them with guilt, and:
"Ah, sorry for bringing it up."
The awkwardness makes them fade. Now I get to be alone, with a free drink. That was my way of living life, and it worked out very well so far.
So I go on with my life, living that way. Although I'm just an office worker at a lousy fashion company, living like that has got me so many benefits here and there. I rarely had conflict with the men who work at the company, and most of the mistakes I make are 'forgiven'.
On top of that, after work is where my main 'work starts'.
My phone rang just quite literally 10 minutes after four when I clocked out.
It was Mister Haruki.