A Snake Lied in Wait (Part 1)

"mat, why? ...you're the only one never finish."
"i think... i don't finish because you don't really love me."

the moonlight streaming in through a gap between the curtains provided just enough light to see the truth blind the defanged vampire, prompting her to look away. her curious question followed by a seemingly honest (but incorrect) observation had unwittingly proved false a previous assertion - that she had only been with one other person. but i had more or less already known that from her well-rehearsed execution of several different techniques and positions, and i didn't at all care about the verity of the statement; i knew it wasn't true for a different reason. so i perpetuated the lie and to it, added the truth of the condition in question for which our having 'made love' was to supposedly prove: whether or not she loved me. of course i didn't have to stick my dick in her to know she didn't really love me; only to make sure she knew just how much i didn't love her: i fucking hated her.

well not all of her. for example, i liked the way she looked. she had a bangin body which i can say for sure is an accurate description. voluptuous, soft but robust and busty with a bubble butt. Not at all busted - her face was round, but beautifully carved by the jagged outline of her artificially enhanced hair which gave it a plastic texture and an unnaturally strong resistance to tangles. her dyed honey-hued hair matched the bronze complexion of her smooth, admittedly or apparently flawless skin, and all together wrapped around her money-blackened, vanity-flattened core so that on the surface she appeared not as the dangerously self-indulgent whore she was, but simply as another sexy asian girl. the sole peephole to the darkness within were those insidious obsidian eyes which, despite their deceptively alluring beauty, bore the burden of her fatal flaw: they could sell lies better than they could see'em.

the devil cloaked itself in clothes once again and the girl did the same. she went to the bathroom and i met her outside it, then led her downstairs in silence and downward stares. i had spent about ten weeks with this girl, about half the time honestly just trying to get with her, and the other half secretly carrying out a spiteful campaign to phuong the shit out of her. i had just finished fucking her, but i didn't yet think i was done fucking her over. so what to do now? her birthday was the next day, or so she claimed, and earlier i had promised i would take her out to one of the best restaurants in saigon. should i tell her a time to meet me there and just never show up? i really did fucking hate this bitch, but by the time she left on her motorbike, both of us mumbling affectionless farewells, no eye contact or swells, my animosity towards my animal mate had become nearly inanimate as i began to recognize that the masquerade was finally over.

though at this point i felt my mask was off, all the lies, traded like glances between us, had kept her true identity, her real life, hidden. the only bits of information she told me about herself i knew for sure were true were the first three things i learned about her: where she had worked, her phone number, and her first name. i'm skeptical of almost everything else, though i believe she really wanted me to 'help' her go to america. and i also believe she actually quit her job at the shoe store for two reasons - first, because she's so fucking lazy and second, because she was becoming more blunt about wanting money. a few weeks prior i got her friend to tell me that she did indeed have a boyfriend, and after confronting her about it (and her desperately denying it until it was no longer a viable lie) she finally admitted to having a boyfriend... but she had broken up with him for me (right), and now she wanted me to 'take care of' her just as he had. oh yeah? so you mean i can marry you, bring your skanky no-english-speaking ass over to america, and pay you a salary? yeah, this one was a keeper.

our 'relationship' was a facade consisting of the occasional coffee date or her stopping by my house for a couple hours on weekday evenings, the whole time resisting my modest advances, checking her watch incessantly, and leaving when she was 'tired' or she had to be home for whatever hesitated, half-attempted excuse. the two of us were viciously trying to satisfy our own selfish agendas at the expense of the other, but while it had become numbingly obvious that she didn't want to be with me, i successfully disguised my intentions so that she really believed i was in love with her. i echoed every hollow "i love you" back to her, but with more conviction, which turned out to be my greatest asset. we had been dating for more than 2 months and not once did she want to meet me on the weekend, yet i still asked her to meet me when she could. i forgave her follies and accepted her apologies, all while nodding along to the beat of her lies... and she loved that - thinking her lies passed as truth. and i know she loved her prada jacket, nameplate necklace, phone, motorbike, and whatever else she could surround herself with to make people believe she was somehow accomplished; she may even have loved the idea that some american schmuck was (apparently) in love with her... but she definitely didn't love me.

nothing could testify to this better than the conversation i had with her earlier that very day. she phuonged me friday night which although wasn't at all surprising, i had to message her the following morning to voice my discontent. she responded simply, "i love you," to which i replied with at least one reason why i thought that was inadequate. she never wrote back. i will discuss some other time the separate, 'disturbing' event of that saturday afternoon, and then you will better understand my state of mind at the time. for now i'll just say that by saturday evening i was in dire need of either a girlfriend, or a good fuck, and phuong was the closest thing to it - a good fuck that is. so i called her up saturday evening requesting to see her, but of course she was busy, so i told her i wanted to see her either sunday or never again. she mistakenly opted for sunday.

so sunday afternoon i met her and her best friend/translator, hieu, at a cafe. after not discussing everything from the neo-conservative policy in the middle east to the recent discovery of the oldest bipedal hominid, i asked phuong why she doesn't like to see me on the weekends. "not important." oh ok. hmmm let's see. so whatever happened to promising to see me more since she broke up with her old boyfriend?

"i go to school now. i don't have free time."
"ok so you don't want to meet me on the weekends, and you have no free time during the week... so is that it? you don't really love me?"
"no, i do."

i was stunned speechless. she wanted me to believe she loved me in spite of her refusal to meet me, apparently ever again. i can't remember how exactly i danced around this one, trying to get the truth out of her one way or the other, but she wasn't budging, and i was left a bit baffled as to the status of my mission. i asked her if she still wanted to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night for her birthday and she said she did. so then i asked her to come back to my house, but she refused. "ok. once again, i'm confused. if you don't want to come to my house tonight, then i don't want to meet you tomorrow. can't you come just for a little bit?" she reluctantly agreed. having accomplished my enabling objective, i went straight home, and i'd be lying if i said in that time i wasn't both anxiously and angrily awaiting her arrival.