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He had probably watched too much television. Certainly, television was a source of the misdirection which ultimately took his life. Too much of seeing the result of what other people wanted to see, wanted to feel.
Life is not reflected on the screen of a television set. This is a lesson that came too late for him. We all see the evidence. Films of heroic prowess, and gentlemanly etiquette. Women treated like Goddesses as the subject of one man's love. Too often you watch stories of women broken down by tough men, and picked up by gentle, tall-dark-handsome strangers. A little care goes a long way. Or that's what someone somewhere wants you to believe.
The truth of the matter, a truth that only experience can reveal, is vastly different. Or so it was to be for him.
He had grown to be disgusted of the heavy handed men who order their lovers around like peons. Saw on too many programmes, films, soaps, documentaries and short stories how the gentle touch preserved loves interests. He grew determined to be the gentlemen. The kind, attentive lover. The last hurrah for chivalry. After all, that's what women want, isn't it? Open doors, fresh flowers, swept off their feet?
And so, when chance offered him the opportunity to love and be loved by the beuatiful creature, he took it without hesitation, and jumped to the call of the generous, caring male figure. Buy her this, surprise her with that, take her out there. Always attentive, always giving, always caring. The television is right, he often thought to himself over the ensuing months as the relationship blossomed, their love grew and happiness ruled over both of them like a petal filled palm.
The chivalrous gentlemen stole the heart of the beautiful creature, and theirs was a love like the stuff of legends. Cared for beyond measure, the beautiful creature could not righfully want for anything.
And so, when he saw her with the other man, watched their embrace, saw them kiss, his heart broke with an almost audible snap. The palm that held the blossoming petals of their passion became a hard iron fist and SQUEEZED. He couldn't breathe. His lungs gasped for air, his head spun, and he felt nauseaus. He felt to his knees, clutching at a heart intent on breaking out of a chest that was suddenly too small for it and threw up.
His head began to pound with questions, foremost of which was WHY?? Why has she done this, why am i not enough, why? WWWHYYYYYY????
Concerned strangers approached him, tried to pull him to his feet. At this point, his resolve broke almost as powerfully as his heart had, and he lashed out at the first stranger to come close enough. The growing crowd recoiled, and he took his chance to seek solitude and ran.
He couldn't stand to be around anyone, but solitude bought him no relief. The questions still hammered, his head burned and his heart grew dark and cold in his chest. She had betrayed him - BETRAYED HIM! And why? So she could have her cake and eat it? He had given her everythng, and she throws it away like it meant nothing to her!
The grief was too much. He somehow made his way home, didn't even speak to his parents on te way in, and made his way straight up to his room. He lay there for a time on his bed. Not thinkint of anything. The only safe way not to think about her was to purge the mind of everything - because EVERYTHING reminded him of her. Shewas everything to him. So he thought of nothing, because without her, that was all he had.
Without her he had nothing. He saw the conclusion of his thoughts with perfect clarity, and saw what he had to do. He went to the bathroom and took his razor, returned to the bedroom and locked the door. He took a picture of the beautiful betraying cow and stared into her eyes for a time. His gaze then shifted to the television. The source of all he had learned about how to be the good guy, how to treat women right. The source of lies. For the first time, tears broke from his eyes, and streamed down his face like a river of hurt. He took up the razor, kissed the creature for the last time, and took own life.
No-one would ever know that what really killed him was the unassuming black box that sat innocently by his bed. The innocent little box that was passed on to his younger brother, to sit by his bed, as he hadn't had one til then. How the little brother was happy spending hours watching all the programmes, films, soaps, documentaries and short stories about life and love and everything. Just like his brother before him.
Life is not reflected on the screen of a television set. This is a lesson that came too late for him. We all see the evidence. Films of heroic prowess, and gentlemanly etiquette. Women treated like Goddesses as the subject of one man's love. Too often you watch stories of women broken down by tough men, and picked up by gentle, tall-dark-handsome strangers. A little care goes a long way. Or that's what someone somewhere wants you to believe.
The truth of the matter, a truth that only experience can reveal, is vastly different. Or so it was to be for him.
He had grown to be disgusted of the heavy handed men who order their lovers around like peons. Saw on too many programmes, films, soaps, documentaries and short stories how the gentle touch preserved loves interests. He grew determined to be the gentlemen. The kind, attentive lover. The last hurrah for chivalry. After all, that's what women want, isn't it? Open doors, fresh flowers, swept off their feet?
And so, when chance offered him the opportunity to love and be loved by the beuatiful creature, he took it without hesitation, and jumped to the call of the generous, caring male figure. Buy her this, surprise her with that, take her out there. Always attentive, always giving, always caring. The television is right, he often thought to himself over the ensuing months as the relationship blossomed, their love grew and happiness ruled over both of them like a petal filled palm.
The chivalrous gentlemen stole the heart of the beautiful creature, and theirs was a love like the stuff of legends. Cared for beyond measure, the beautiful creature could not righfully want for anything.
And so, when he saw her with the other man, watched their embrace, saw them kiss, his heart broke with an almost audible snap. The palm that held the blossoming petals of their passion became a hard iron fist and SQUEEZED. He couldn't breathe. His lungs gasped for air, his head spun, and he felt nauseaus. He felt to his knees, clutching at a heart intent on breaking out of a chest that was suddenly too small for it and threw up.
His head began to pound with questions, foremost of which was WHY?? Why has she done this, why am i not enough, why? WWWHYYYYYY????
Concerned strangers approached him, tried to pull him to his feet. At this point, his resolve broke almost as powerfully as his heart had, and he lashed out at the first stranger to come close enough. The growing crowd recoiled, and he took his chance to seek solitude and ran.
He couldn't stand to be around anyone, but solitude bought him no relief. The questions still hammered, his head burned and his heart grew dark and cold in his chest. She had betrayed him - BETRAYED HIM! And why? So she could have her cake and eat it? He had given her everythng, and she throws it away like it meant nothing to her!
The grief was too much. He somehow made his way home, didn't even speak to his parents on te way in, and made his way straight up to his room. He lay there for a time on his bed. Not thinkint of anything. The only safe way not to think about her was to purge the mind of everything - because EVERYTHING reminded him of her. Shewas everything to him. So he thought of nothing, because without her, that was all he had.
Without her he had nothing. He saw the conclusion of his thoughts with perfect clarity, and saw what he had to do. He went to the bathroom and took his razor, returned to the bedroom and locked the door. He took a picture of the beautiful betraying cow and stared into her eyes for a time. His gaze then shifted to the television. The source of all he had learned about how to be the good guy, how to treat women right. The source of lies. For the first time, tears broke from his eyes, and streamed down his face like a river of hurt. He took up the razor, kissed the creature for the last time, and took own life.
No-one would ever know that what really killed him was the unassuming black box that sat innocently by his bed. The innocent little box that was passed on to his younger brother, to sit by his bed, as he hadn't had one til then. How the little brother was happy spending hours watching all the programmes, films, soaps, documentaries and short stories about life and love and everything. Just like his brother before him.
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Rosalind wrote:
> Time you got it out and gave it a bit of a polish then
that's a woman's job.
> Time you got it out and gave it a bit of a polish then
that's a woman's job.
It wasn't me this time. I ment it completlty innocently.
Hur Hur, I've fallen for that one before.
Time you got it out and gave it a bit of a polish then
Rosalind wrote:
> And since when was that in your possesion?
>
> :p
It's been locked away for some time, gathering dust.
> And since when was that in your possesion?
>
> :p
It's been locked away for some time, gathering dust.
That explains that, then.
Slaveunit wrote:
> Would you be with him in the first place?
She is with me as it happens.
> Would you be with him in the first place?
She is with me as it happens.
Arwen Undomiel wrote:
> I wouldn't cheat on you.
Would you be with him in the first place?
> I wouldn't cheat on you.
Would you be with him in the first place?
Insane Bartender wrote:
> *passes Hev the mystical helm of humour*
And since when was that in your possesion?
:p
> *passes Hev the mystical helm of humour*
And since when was that in your possesion?
:p
*passes Hev the mystical helm of humour*
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