It’s her chance, see? She’s playing the same game I am, only her desire is to domesticate me into a gently smiling mascot that takes all her moods easily, assures her with constant compliments, wears sweaters and has no problem walking her dog. She’s like an alien, wanting to lay eggs inside of me. Use me until I’m drained and vacant, watching sports on the couch while she concocts the next phases of our life that she controls fully. And it starts with offering care. Simpering, frantic care that proves what a good, doting girlfriend she will be.
