I dated this woman once.

She always pulled my card, my trump card. She'd piss me off to no end with some drivel about 'us,' and instead of owning up to whatever it was she thought I was doing I'd go off the deep end. I'd tell her that we shouldn't be together and that it's best that way because I have bad ideas and evil thoughts and that I'm a bad person at my core. She'd, of course, contain this semblance of freedom, this moment of agency and potency with her 'coy' laughter. Containment. She got what she wanted, she had that bumblebee in the jar and she shook it just enough to get it buzzing and pissed off. Then we'd fuck. She wanted me pissed because she'd know I'd give her a good fuck then. She wanted that red rocket of evil and hatred penetrating her fucking cul de sac. Then I had transmuted that evil, which I normally turn on myself, into a lightning bolt of energy and sexuality.

We both ended up pleased by this outcome as we lay there sweaty, her giggling, us talking about some bullshit 'social' 'theory,' a condom still hanging from my deflating dick.

I kind of miss those nights. I haven't been laid since about then. It's been almost a decade, since a woman with no concept of father has come and smacked me over the head, sucked my dick in the car, and drunk me under the table. I do miss that. As much as I tell myself I want a 'normal' girl, a girl with fewer tantrums, a girl with fewer liberal thoughts. I wanted a conquered wife, a traditional girl. That shit blew up in my face when I dated briefly a girl, also with no concept of a father, who quietly accepted my frequent impotence. Too bad she didn't open up that other door.

This violent woman I dated. She reduced me to tears some nights, and some nights I repaid the favor. I've walked out on her. She walked out on me. I was always 'disappointing' her with promises that were never fulfilled.

"No, honey. I can't take you to the circus. Daddy has to work."
"No, honey. I can't fuck you right now. Daddy has to please mommy."

War robots through and through. Whatever happened to the Spartans? They had such a complete system for destroying the ego, the self. From the outside, it looks so simple. I wonder though, how one-dimensional being trained to become a war robot is? After all, the same mind who can pen poetry and philosophy is being honed into a maelstrom of fighting techniques and weapon mastery, to fight until the every last drop of life has left the body.

So simple it seems. But what's under the hood?