Domestic

The Beating She Deserves

I ain’t go to reason with her; I want to beat the hell out her…

If she has the nerve to agitate me, then it’s within my right to remind her that I’m not above showing her what I’m capable of, right? I feel demeaned; like less of a man, even, when she stands there with the comfort to tell me what I CAN’T do. What recourse do I have at this point? She’s bringing this on herself.

She wants Sanaa and Omar. Beating her because I love her makes all the sense in the world, and I really don’t care if you understand. That picture she’s been clinging to went from an ideology to a tangible goal…with me. I’m just as taken with her, too. It’s just…it’s just…I just can’t tolerate disrespect. I wasn’t raised to tolerate it, and I have to prove myself as a man. She left me with no other option.

Believe me, I’ve gone through every situation at least twice before I decided she deserved to get her ass beat. Of course the general public won’t condone this behavior, but they don’t understand that our situation is one that is unique and very sensitive and dear to me. How can I provide the security, masculinity, and passion she desires if I back down now? I can’t. And I hope you understand; if you don’t, I apologize.

She wants Sanaa and Omar. You know, that conflict that drives them apart, then together forever. Beating her because I love her makes all the sense in the world, and I really don’t care if you understand, if I can be totally honest with you.

The courts knew and supported my decision. Hell, they cleared an area and turned a blind eye when I finally went through with it. Not a single word was uttered to either of us as I lifted my right hand again and again, smiling victoriously at every hit…

Am I less than a man? A coward, perhaps? Circumstantially, how could you ever know or judge? Do I not deserve the benefit of the doubt, as well? She chose me; I was just fortunate enough to register on her radar. For that, I am so grateful. However, I am steadfast in my decision to beat her senseless…

She wants Sanaa and Omar. You know, that conflict that drives them apart, then together forever. She chose this game, and will suffer dearly for it. Beating her because I love her makes all the sense in the world, and I really don’t care if you understand; this is OUR issue, not yours.

How can I do this to the person standing before me in my shorts and a t-shirt that refused to hide her belly button? Her bun became an unkempt mess trying to avoid this and, while it turns me on, I refused to stop. I just hope she understands she deserves this. I can only hope she gets why this is happening to her. She asked for it constantly.

She wants Sanaa and Omar. You know, that conflict that drives them apart, then together forever. She chose the game, and will suffer dearly for it. She wants to play for my heart, oblivious to the fact that she owned it already. But I guess beating her because I love her doesn’t make any sense to her; YOU don’t have to understand, but I hope one day she does.

I guess she thought I’d be “cute” and let her win. Nope. Ain’t no friends on this basketball court. Although I do love when she fouls me…

I hated it had to be her; I love the post-game showers though. A.J. Armstrong is the creator of The Fly Hobo and His World of Oddities

Glass House

WE said WE would be better. WE would never become caricatures and outsized personalities that ooze braggadocio with each self-reported event WE attend. WE said WE’d be transparent, but not “transparent”. Our lies are broadcast unbeknownst to us, because WE’re fooling ourselves. So many of us have become strangers to our own entities, instead settling for becoming those WE have silently judged and deemed as inferior and savage.

WE said WE would never become That. WE would never share That situation, That dilemma, and That moment of WEakness. Never us, WE said. WE WEre staunch in our assertions, too. WE know, if presented with the same situation, That would never be us. Variables, be damned. That… THAT right there… could never be me, WE, or us.

WE said only God could judge any of us, right? Yet WE mock, ridicule, and shake our heads. WE know an entire relationship, financial situation, and mindset from our few glimpses, right? Their turbulence would have been our perfect calm, right? Better yet, their obstacles would have never presented themselves in the first place, right?

Of course, That would never happen in our perfect microcosms. Of course WE can talk about what WE would have done differently, because how could That ever be us? WE aren’t perfect- WE know that- but WE know certain things will never come hurdling our way…

…Until This happened. WE don’t know how WE lost our cool, our composure, or our head, but WE did and now WE need you to know how isolated this event was.

But This isn’t That; That was so much worse because WE deemed it as such. Please don’t lump This with That. WE didn’t mean to do This, to say This, to have This play out. Clearly, That is completely different, and how dare you for thinking otherwise. WE would never do That, because That isn’t human, nor is it just a terrible lapse of judgment. That is never okay; This is a mistake, and WE need to forgive and forget it all. That should never be okay and WE will never let them forget, ever. This is just a typo in an otherwise brilliantly written biography.

WE said WE would be better. WE would never become caricatures and outsized personalities that ooze braggadocio with each self-reported event WE attend. WE said WE’d be transparent, but not “transparent”. Our lies are broadcast unbeknownst to us, because WE’re fooling ourselves too. So many of us have become strangers to our own entities, instead settling for becoming those WE have silently judged and deemed as inferior. WE could never be That, nor could they ever be This.

A.J. Armstrong is the creator of The Fly Hobo and His World of Oddities