control

Funny thing control. We all want it is some form or another. Actually, when you really think about it, no matter what you do at some point you must exact control over something. Your car, your dog, your friends alcohol abuse, your future, your career, your... you get the point. That is good control. When you take an action that leads to something being done for the benefit of your future.

Then there is bad control. I'm not going to list all the bad control, it may make you the unknown reader explode. But let's take a look at a couple specific examples of bad control.

1) The United States' view on other countries having the right to make decisions for themselves. Bad control.

2) The need for a "boy friend" to constantly put down his "girl friend" in order to maintain some semblance of power over her. I use quotation marks because it could be they are just friends, lovers, ex-lovers or gluttons for punishment that never let go because they can't forge out on their own to truly be real people. The symbiotic need to be pathetic overwhelms them and dictates their every move. Bad control on the aggressors part because he has to exert force in order to have a place in this world. Bad control on the submissive's part because she has to suck the life force of some poor schmuck in order to have meaning.

3) The need to only date people who are fucking crazy so that you can feel in a position of power thereby making yourself feel big while you attempt to make someone who is, again, fucking crazy more sane. It never happens. They stay crazy and in the process you become a little crazier yourself. Bad control on the "helpers" part because the "helpee" is useless and will siphon off all life force and leave the "helper" wondering why everyone he dates is a loon why he's so tired all the time.

So what do these have in common. They use control incorrectly. And they are stupid. Now, let's examine #2. WHY DOES THE STUPID ONE STAY AND TAKE SHIT FROM THE AGGRESSOR? And age old question. Mommy didn't breast feed. Daddy used the belt one too many times. She's possessed by a demon. Or worse she's possessed with the need to be told what to do at all times and cannot function without someone doing so. I have friends like this. In fact, being closely related to #3, I have ex-girlfriends like this. By I digress. At some point the symbiotic person needs to shut up and live their life. They will act out on occasion and give the appearance of taking steps toward a fruitful and productive life, but they are lying to themselves and others. They are liars. Inevitably they come crawling back to be beaten down one more time for old time's sake. They use sex as a ploy to pull in the all too willing emotional assailant. Then a day or two go by and the guy who thought he had written the whole fucked relationship off wonders why he is on the phone at 1 in the morning handling the girl on the same issue he's handled her on 6,000,000 times before. Statements like, "you need to stop talking now" and "shut up" and "You're not listening" and "yes I do care about you" and "I'm trying to help, do you want me to help or not?" come flowing out like the run-off from a receding glacier.

This form of control is cyclical. They are embroiled in the relationship they cease the relationship they are embroiled in the relationship they cease the relationship - on and on and on ad infinitum.

How do you stop it? A gun. While this may seem a bit extreme or a bad sarcastic joke it does have some root in reality. A gun. Simple tool to put something in its place. Realistically it should be a murder suicide because neither one of these individuals is worth the air they breathe. But let's not look at jail as a happy alternative to the harsh realities of living the daily grind. Metaphorically, the gun is a symbol of finality. Pull out the "gun" and shoot the other person. I don't care how good the fuck or how much they say they love you and will be the only ones to ever love you or if they fuck good IT DOESN"T MATTER. Put the GOD DAMNED METAPHOR BACK IN YOUR PANTS AND HAVE THE BALLS TO STOP CALLING THE BITCH WHO IN THE END IS ONLY LOOKING TO PULL YOU AROUND BY YOUR PENIS AND MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE. Or guy - I've realized I've been very one sided here and not at all PC. Sorry to my copious female readers. SHE IS SUCKING YOUR WILL TO LIVE AND YOU ARE WONDERING WHY YOU KEEP GOING THERE. "Is it love? It must be love." It's not love. And if you're worried your biological clock is ticking away and you have to find someone to settle down with... THIS IS NOT THE ONE! Or she is and you are destined to live a miserable life of trying to tell her what to do and her resenting you for it.

And you thought this was going to be some kind of political statement.

Anyhow, back to the gun. It is a metaphor. It is taking the presents she gave you and throwing them away. It is burning the pictures of her that you keep locked away in your photo albums of yesteryear. It is saying once and for all, with great firmness, I am done and not picking up the phone to call again because this time is going to be different. This time is not going to be different. This time is never different. This time is the same. Time and time again unless YOU do something to change it. The best answer is to walk away and don't look back. Because if you look back you become a salt lick.

The point was control.

You want to have good control that leads you to a better life with cool people who love you and want to see you succeed.

The bad control is a quick ride down the spiral of stupidity and pain that leaves you in a world of hurt.

The choice - as always - is yours. Choose wisely and don't be blinded by the prospect of a good blow job or a screaming orgasm. We all know that sex is better after a fight. But why fight in order to have good sex? I think someone told me once that the best sex they had was when they were fully invested in it, not trying to nail the girl in to the wall.

Nope. Not going to be the best for you in the end. And, you'll get more sleep 'cause you won't be up until 2 am talking yourself off the ledge of sanity.

OK. I'm done. And I hope to God somewhere in this universe someone is hanging up the phone and firing their metaphoric gun.