YOUR WHORE FRIEND

I’m a fraud. We both know it. Or at least I do. You might have had this innate feeling about it for a while now, when you think of it. But you dismissed it, you love me after all. Who wants to face friendly, long-time loved monsters, really.

You just have no idea of the damages depth and propagation.

I’m angry.

I’m bitter.

I’m full of myself. Self-depreciation is my favorite pose. Gets me all the sympathy I need to thrive.

I’m a hard-core hypocrite.

I’m lazy.

I want it all, but want to give nothing.

I’m a coward.

Don’t trust me when I smile at your face, I’m just being polite. My parents taught me well, I’ve got manners, mind you.

“Lovely dress!”… too bad it make your sagging ass looks like heavy dead meat.

That’s my daily life.

So yes, I smile, but bile is frothing at my mouth left corner. Do you honestly think I care about the last dinner you had with a friend I don’t know, about your mother’s hip replacement, about your son’s school achievements? Come on, you can’t be serious!  Stapled fake smile, glazed look but moving eyes, head slightly tilted to the right, I know my body language basics. I pretend I’m listening, I pretend I care, and eventually, I’ll get you to like me.

I need to be loved and approved of, more than anything else in the world. So I act accordingly. Always. End of the story.

Some people are super-intelligent, super-beautiful, super-instinctive. I’m super-sociable. And it goes a long way too, trust me.

Manipulation is not any second nature to me, it’s my first, the only one I know.

I know all the codes, It’s boringly easy. You’re boringly predictable. Tell you what you need to, want to hear. But never too obviously, a bit of cautious contradiction is always welcome. Make you think I’m wise and impartial. That’s definitely the best part of it all.

Who cares about knowing the truth, anyway. You just want an easier life, working hard on it, one day at a time, one lie after another. Ask me, I’m eager to please, glad to help crippling the truth, shedding “new lights” on facts.

Interpretation, relativism, transvestite subjectivity, socio-cultural explanations, oversimplified psychoanalysis, etc: choose your poison. Everything abounding in your sense is fine by me.

I’m your faithful, unflinching, totally compromised and compromising best friend. You need your fix of empathy, call and I’ll deliver. 24/7. Especially around 23, when it gets dark and dirty. Price does not include careful listening to annoying and boring full details of your life accidents, though. Thought I’d mentioned the first time. Or maybe not.

Anyway, you’ll probably never even come to realize my silence is not attention, just blank absence. It’s everyone’s best interest. Happy clients make me happy. I’ll be as nice, as bitchy as you need me to be. Get undressed, take your barriers down and relax, you’re safe with me. Nothing disturbing or upsetting will ever come out of my mouth. I’m listening to you and your disastrous excuse of a life as you would twist your neck while driving on the highway, just to make sure to take a good look at the car crash on your left.

I’m in for the thrill.

Sorry, my cue. I can get mesmerized, listening to my own voice, my own convincing advices, my own empathizing theories. I can get high, listening to your own silence on the other end of the line. Your silence is approbation and gratefulness. Everyone deserves some good, comforting lies. Everyone deserves my services.

Sometimes, I can get carried away, too. I have to be careful and come back to more relevant lines or I’ll lose you, my precious client. I won’t hang up till you’ve come, till you can go to bed and sleep peacefully, thinking someone cares for and understands you. That’s what I do, that’s what I’m good at. I’m a pro, you know, but I’m also a hungry monster. The harder, faster you fall, the better, stronger I feel. I thrive on your pain. I rise from you sorrow. When I hang up the phone, when I let you go back to your lonely struggle, I take a nice digestive nap.

Except I never sleep peacefully.

1 July 2011 | Categories: A Night In The Life Of | Tags: Confession, Empathy, Fake, Friend, Hate, Lie, Listen, Whore, You | Leave a comment