My Victorian Romance

I'm in love! It’s true, I’ve become romantically entangled with a man who’s several states away -- in Idaho. He's moving to Illinois in November, but until then, we're having quite the steamy Victorian Romance.

Perhaps I should explain... If he were close by I could at least visit. But alas, he’s in Idaho, the land of potatoes, so many states away and in a situation where the internet is unavailable and phone calls are scarce. While the situation and the distance are rather unfortunate, it has given us an interesting angle that many modern relationships often lack. We are getting to know each other word by word, page by page, a very Victorian romance... all by letters, few phone calls, no visits or even e-mails.

I met him on one of the many camping trips my best friend and I have taken to the mystical forests of Indiana. Now I know most people don’t think of Indiana as a highly magical, romantic and especially not a sacred place that would inspire a sense of awe. (In fact, whenever I use to think of Indiana, it usually brought to mind images of cornfields rather than any feeling of enchantment.) But you’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s not all of Indiana or even all of Needmore, the area where the campsite resides. But the land is pure magic. Even the name for the pagan camping ground, Lothlorian, lends itself to the mystical feel of the land. But if you haven’t been there, you could never know. The trees are tall and lush and form a canopy over your head as you drive the winding road. Birds of all kinds will serenade you as you wander through forests gilded in sunlight or sheltered in clouds. There’s a river flowing deeper in the woods away from the campgrounds where you can go swimming. Wooden signs dot the landscape telling you when you’re entering “Robinswood Forest”, “The Song Shrine” and many other bewitching locations with similarly extravagant names. There are clearings where you can pitch your tent, tipi, yurt, dome or whatever and they too have clever names like “Shaman’s Circle”, “Healer’s Circle”, and my favorite “Theater Circle”, where we often camp, as well as many more. They have shrines dedicated to corresponding gods, goddesses and other spirit guides. It’s cared for by a group of pagans who call themselves elves. (Now these are not true Tolkien elves and especially not the elves of “The Lord of the Rings” movies with their amazing clean magic. These are humans with all their wonderful flaws and smells and propensity towards getting dirty. And yet, they too have a certain magic about them.) And no, it’s not the most rugged kind of camping since firewood and showers and composting privies are provided for... there’s even a café where meals can be bought. But everything, like the composting privies, has an ecological aspect since these elves see themselves as stewards of the land, not merely users of it. After camping, grass seed is available and its use is highly encouraged for campers to sprinkle on the ground where they camped. They build everything themselves and have policies to regulate any and all pollutants. Rules such as, “bring only biodegradable soaps and shampoos”, are posted on their website http://www.elflore.org for guests to easily view. The air is pure and the very spirit of that land can be felt throughout. I truly believe in the mystical nature of the land and that magic did not falter in bringing us together.

It has been six months since last I saw him. It's hard, but with each letter, I fall more and more in love. Now, I'm not so niëve that I don't realize the dangers inherent in this situation. After all, there is an advantage to not having to deal with a person's daily foibles and it would be easy to ignore the reality that will come with him moving closer. I am terrified... I've torn open my ribcage and allowed him to crawl into my heart without checking too closely for sharp objects that could rip my organs apart. More than loving him, it shocks my system that I TRUST him... It freaks me out.

My Uncle Al died today

I never knew either of my grandfathers since they both died before I was born. But Uncle Al always had a grandfatherly way about him that he generously extended to this grandfatherless niece. His smile could warm the world and his quiet way spoke volumes on the simple pleasures that life has to offer. I was never a child to sit still, yet Uncle Al could always calm my frantic ways and patiently direct my focus to just one task instead of twenty.

There are two visits that stand out like polished pennies in my memory:

I remember my Dad and Uncle Al were going for a walk. I begged and pleaded to come along too. Finally, my Dad consented, saying, “All right Jeani, you can come, but you can’t be running all over the place and you have to keep up.” I nodded and promised while Uncle Al smiled and winked at me. A few blocks into the walk, I started getting fidgety ‘cause they were talking about grown-up stuff that I didn’t understand or care about. So I dropped back a bit. That’s when I noticed that my Dad and Uncle Al walked really differently. My Dad’s pace had a springy jauntiness to it while Uncle Al’s steps were long and languorous. I went back and forth imitating both of their strides, trying to get them just right. It was Uncle Al who caught me stepping comfortably in my dad’s footsteps. He again grinned that wonderful grin and said, “looks like she’s taking after you.”

The first time I ever went fishing was with Uncle Al. It was a day of sun sparkling off the water as birds serenaded us over head. I so wanted Uncle Al to see that I could be as quiet as him since, I was told, that was key to fishing. It took all my effort not to chatter on about the day and what I wanted to do when we got back and how excited I was. But about half an hour later, I had become so entranced by the gentle sway of the boat, the sound of the water brushing its sides and the smell of water mixed with smoke that it took me a few seconds to feel the tug on my line. Uncle Al noticed right away and helped me haul in my first catch. He laughed with my glee and didn’t seem to mind my chattiness the rest of the day.

Henry James (from The Kiwi Mosque of Lilly Lee)

The following is a chapter (though I'm not sure which one, I know it's not the first) from my novel in progress The Kiwi Mosque of Lilly Lee. Any and all comments are appreciated. Thank you ~ j9

The fire in the middle of the clearing burned to low cinders as Lilly Lee hummed a low melody into the bright darkness of moonlight, plucking absently at the autoharp in her lap. It had no chord keys, yet the music was lulling. Her long faded brown hair hung in strings over her face, half concealing her dreamy smile. The rain that passed only an hour ago had left the earth cool and damp and the sky clear. Her small eyes fluttered closed as the air brought a scent of mint from a small patch off to her right that twitch along the edges of her nostrils. Just as quick as it had come, the smell drifted away, only to be replaced by the wet and smoky pungency of a man who had been living in the deep wood for far too long. Her strumming and humming faded as a twig was crunched under a well worn boot behind her. Her smile slipped as her lips pursed tightly together.

Why did he have to come now, she thought. The moon, in all her glory, had been resting gently on the tops of the trees across from Lilly Lee as the solitary audience to her rare serenade. In fact, thought Lilly Lee as the dawn of anger blossomed behind the bars of her ribs, this was her once a month time alone with the moon. She'd told Henry James that at least a dozen times. Vance understood, but he only ever had to be told anything once. He always made himself scarce whenever the moon was full. Why couldn’t Henry James ever understand anything? Perhaps it was the difference in their ages. While she had no idea how old Vance was, she knew Henry James to have only just passed his eighteenth cycle of seasons.

"Miss Lilly?" The high graveling voice rasped nervously behind her.

She sighed, lowering her head as the moon pulled a veil of clouds over its face, knowing their time had come to an end. The spell’s broken, Lilly Lee thought. Without opening her eyes, she shook her head only slightly in an effort to dislodge the ire rising in her. "Henry James," she breathed into the bitter air, "I do declare. I have told you time an’ again that I am no miss. I am merely Lilly Lee and you will learn to call me thus if it kills you."

Henry James barked a forced laugh as he always did whenever she said this. Glancing at the smoldering fire, he gingerly limped past her to the pile of wood stacked just in the entrance of the cave, a few paces from where she sat. Looking up, she studied him as he set down a bottle he’d been carrying and began to gather wood. Something about his posture, the way he slumped even lower in his right shoulder than usual, caught her attention. She set her instrument tenderly on the large rock next to her and absently smoothed her tattered tan dress. Henry James always reminded Lilly Lee of a hound who’s pack had refused him. When she first met him, she thought he had a hunchback since he carried his left shoulder so much higher than his right. But it soon became apparent that it was his right leg hitching behind him that made it seem that way. A month later, when he came to her after being bit by one of the rare pit vipers that live in their creek, she saw that leg. The leg itself was normal to look at, but no strength and the foot had no heel. Whether a defect from birth or due to some accident, he would not say. Other than that, he wasn't a terribly unattractive man. In fact, she mused, if he took the time to bathe regularly, he might be a down right comely young man. And yet, just to look at him made her tired. He always sounded like a man three times his age and, despite his youth, his jowls hung and his mud brown eyes drooped into deep bags sliding down his face.

"Henry James," she spoke gently over the crackle of the fire he was bringing back to life, "is there somethin’ on your mind?" He shrugged with his left shoulder, not bothering to look up. She stopped herself from sighing again and instead inhaled deeply. He wanted her to pull it out of him, but she wasn’t in the mood. Before she could stop herself, she found sharp words shooting through her lips, "if you’ve nothing to say, then you might as well leave." His eyes leapt in surprise from the fire and, for the first time that evening, she saw his face. His left eye was swollen and bloody, his large, flat nose seemed to be twisting westward and there was something off about his mouth.

"I’m so sorry miss Lilly, I mean, Lilly Lee," he whimpered through the right side of his mouth, "but I didn’t know who else to talk to." He dropped his head in shame as tears came streaming down his broken face.

Lilly Lee sucked on her lower lip in sympathy as an owl swooped through the trees just above them, hooting about the mice he’d tricked into becoming his meal. "Come 'ere," she said softly, holding her arms open for him. The owl landed on a tree branch across from her, hooted once more, then fell silent.

Placing another log on the fire, Henry James looked up at her hesitantly, tears silently dripping off his jowls. "I don’t deserve..." he began, but she cut him off abruptly.

"Stop it. You don’t deserve to be mauled. The fire’s fine, come ‘ere." As he was already on his knees before the fire, he crawled to her, dragging his bum leg behind him. He reached her arms just as a fresh flood of tears began to pour down his face and he buried his head in her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Shhh, Henry, it’s okay now," she whispered, petting the greasy black hair. "Who ever done this to you’s gonna pay, I’ll make sure of that. Just tell me what happened and who done it. Okay?"

He nodded into her lap, breathing in the robust aroma of her. Turning his head so she could hear him, he began his story. "I went to town tonight. Not anywhere near anybody, just close enough so’s I could hear the music. They were havin’ a dance in the town square an’ I wanted to go. But I don’t have the right clothes an’ nobody’d ever want me there." He got quiet for a moment, then added, "well, nobody ‘cept maybe her."

"Her who?" Lilly Lee asked, gently trying to lift him off her lap to look into his eyes.

Raising his head, he said, "Cassy, you know, the lady who got lost." Lilly Lee nodded, recalling the woman they'd found wandering in the woods just after the last darkening of the moon. "Well, I thought she might, you know, want me there. So I sat where I left her when I took her back to town. That’s when she told me her name, you know. She hugged me too." There was an air of defiant anger in this last statement that startled Lilly Lee. She didn’t show it, only nodding to encourage his story on, but she began with her eyes to search his face and her ears to search his words for more evidence of this anger. "I know it was foolish to think so," he whispered, then growled, "but I’m no fool! I just wanted to..." He bit his bottom lip, trying to figure out how to tell what it was he wanted. He hadn't been too sure himself. Shaking his head, then laying it back in her lap, he wrapped his arms around her knees. "I know their kind don't want nothin’ to do with us backwoods folk, they don’t even remember us half the time. But I thought she was different. I thought there was something, since I helped her, you know?"

Lilly Lee nodded, stroking his hair. Realizing that he couldn’t possibly see her, she said, "yes." He muttered something else, burying his face into her dress. She leaned in, to ask, "what was that" when his head came up suddenly and almost busted her nose.

"Oh, miss Lilly, I'm so sorry! So, so sorry! " He scrambled away, moving towards the fire, got to his feet with both hands clasped to his mouth. "So stupid, stupid, stupid I hurt miss Lilly!" With the heel of his right hand, he hit himself repeatedly on the back of his head.

Rubbing her nose, Lilly Lee coughed, "don't, Henry James. I'll be fine." She held out her hand, "see, it's not even bleeding. Now stop that! Have a seat and tell me what happened."

Henry James lowered his hands and he nodded, sinking to the cool grass beneath him. With worry still etched in his every pore, he began. "The music was real pretty. I could hear it from the little hill where I watched her walk back to town that day. I first thought I'd just sit up there and listen, but then I got restless. I mean, I really wanted to see her." He picked up a long branch sitting in the grass next to him. Turning so he was facing the fire, he moved the logs around for the best ventilation. "So I went down the hill, following the music. It was beautiful, miss Lilly. I thought for sure I'd find her near the music, but I heard her laughin' long before I got anywhere close. An' it weren't even comin' from the same direction. So I turned my path right and followed that new song. Cassy has the prettiest voice, miss Lilly, the prettiest voice of all." He paused, gazing into the fire as if the voice was coming to him right at that moment from the burning wood. “Even when she’s laughin’ bad, she still sounds pretty.”

Lilly Lee studied his profile in the fire light, noticing that his left eye had swollen the rest of the way shut. Behind his head, a bit of movement caught her eye. She looked up to find the hoot owl stretching his wings, then silently flying away. She followed his path, noticing that the moon was peeking at her, shining a sliver of light directly onto where she sat. As she brought her focus back to earth, she noticed Henry James staring at her. "Please go on," she said, uncomfortable in his gaze.

"Yes," he whispered, but just continued to stare. "Miss Lilly, you glow." Lilly Lee laughed, "not tonight Henry James, it's just the moonlight. And please don't call me miss Lilly. You makes me feel like I'm your teacher."

"Were you ever a teacher, mi-, I mean, Lilly Lee?"

"Yes," she stated, looking down at her feet. "But we're not talkin' about that. We're talkin' 'bout what happened to your face."

Henry James shifted his eyes back to the fire, giving it one good poke with the stick. "My face." He sighed. "Okay. She was somewhere in that barn that's nearest to the hill. I could hear her. She laughs so loud an' it's almost like a song the way it just goes on an' on. I didn't wanna scare her, so I thought I'd peek in without her noticin' and see what it was she was laughin' at." He lowered his head and voice, "it wouldn't of mattered no how if I had scared her." Jerking his head up, he glanced over at Lilly Lee and continued, "so I crept in quiet like and stayed to the walls. There were no lights in there, but she was still laughin'. As I got further in, I heard another voice. It were a man's voice. Then, the moon showed its face through the high window, an' I see miss Cassy sittin' on a bale of hay with a man. They were passin' a bottle between 'em and laughin'. Well, she were laughin', he were whisperin' things to make her laugh. I couldn't hear his words, but I could hear his voice. I could feel it. It rumbled in my chest when he talks. And then it started rainin' and the music from the town square faded away but her laughin’ just got louder and louder and then there were lightenin’ and she were suddenly screamin'. And I could see in flashes how she were on her back and the man, he were pushin’ her down an’ I thought he were hurtin’ her, I swear I did! So I grab this long thick stick off the ground an' I threw it at him! Only it don't hit him, 'cause he stands up right then an' moves away an' it hits her at the chest an' it ain't no stick, it's a pitchfork."

“You killed her?” Lilly Lee cried, leaning back as if he might come at her next.

Henry James’s good eye widened, “Oh, miss Lilly, it were one of them hay forks with the two prongs. They went on each side of her and pinned her to the ground. It did poke one of her arms real bad, though. An’ I felt really awful, I did. At least I did ‘til I found out they’s been laughin’ at me.” With the word me, Henry James hits his chest.

“What do you mean?” Lilly Lee asks.

“Well, the man, see, he attacks me after makin’ sure miss Cassy were all right. That’s how I got all beat up. An’ I’m tellin’ him, stop, please, I don’t mean to do it! An’ I’m not fightin’ back ‘cause I saw when he check her that he was her friend. An’ I’m shoutin’ to miss Cassy, miss Cassy, I thought he were hurtin’ you! An’ that’s when she told him to stop. She say, ‘lay off! this the guy I was talkin’ about.’ An’ at first I think that’s the prettiest thing I ever did hear, only then the man say, ‘oh baby, you’re right, he smells positively rank. You’re luck he didn’t try none of that sex stuff with you. You’d probably get sick. What you doin’ here anyhow, moron?’ Miss Lilly, I ain’t never been stupid. Just ‘cause I ain’t educated doesn’t mean I’m stupid! An’ there’s miss Cassy sittin’ there laughin’ at me.” He hits his chest. “She’s sayin’ how I don’t know sex when I see it and I probably won’t know it when I do it neither. An’ that’s private stuff ‘cause I told her private that I ain’t never done it an’ she was real nice when I told her, but there she is laughin’ at me and there he is laughin’ at me!” With each me, Henry James hit his chest and Lilly Lee flinched until, unable to continue, Henry James folded himself in half, shaking with sobs.

Lilly Lee walks over to him and places her hands gently on his shoulders. “It don’t matter what they say,” she says soothingly, squatting down beside him. He turns his head to her. “Really it don’t.”

Suddenly grabbing her, he pulled her face to his so forcefully she fell back, and he fell on top of her. As he pressed his lips against hers, she slapped him.

"Henry James!" She shouted, pushing him off of her, "what’s gotten into you?" He crawled quickly to the other side of the fire, muttering to himself the whole time. "I can’t hear you. Speak up!" She demanded, her earlier ire bounding out of its hiding place to flush her cheeks and ball up her knuckles.

"I was sayin’," Henry James bellowed with a voice so full of rage that it startled Lilly Lee into stillness. "I was sayin’ she must be right!" The whole forest fell silent, holding its breath.

"About what?" Lilly Lee asked.

"About me," Henry James howled. "She must be right. Nobody’d ever want something like me." He sniffled, then snarled in a deep voice unlike his own, "she didn’t say someone, she said something. As if I’m not even human."

Lilly Lee took a breath and massaged her skull with the tips of her fingers.

“I killed ‘em both,” Henry James growled, his face suddenly right over hers. Lilly Lee gasped, squirming backwards, out of his grasp, leaving him panting on the ground. Opening her mouth to speak, she found that she too was panting. He scared her! She shook her head furiously. Henry James was a lot of things, ill groomed, annoying, inappropriate, needy... but he was not a murderer and he was not frightening.

"Henry James, what happened?" A coyote bayed in the distance as Lilly Lee held her breath. I’m not afraid of Henry James, she told herself over and over as the silence stretched on. But there was something about him now. Something serious. Something... wicked.

"He took the pitchfork, put his arm over Cassy’s shoulder and she put her arm ‘round his waist. They walked out of that barn, still laughin’, not even carin’ that it was rainin’. An’ I howled to the sky to strike them dead. An’ it did. Lightnin’ came right out of the sky. I took their liquor bottle an’ I ran past their bodies an’ I didn’t stop ‘til I got here," his eyes narrowed in on her as he stood up, towering over her. "'Cause you got powers like mine, so you’s the only woman I will ever lie with."

He reached down to grab her around the waist. She wriggled around, trying to slither away from him, but he held her tight, her back pressed against his belly. “Henry James, you will not do this!” She shouted, on the verge of panic. Off to her left, she saw the large rock the autoharp was on. Reaching out, she grabbed it. With all her strength, craned it over her head and bashed his head with it.

Dropping her, he bayed, holding his head with both his arms. But when he looked out from the cover of his arms, he saw her laying still on the ground. He had dropped her head first onto the large rock. Kneeling, he turned her over and found that she was still breathing. “Miss Lilly? I’m so sorry. You’s gotta be all right. Wake up, please, miss Lilly.” Her eyes slowly opened and she stared at him wordlessly. “Miss Lilly, I’m sorry, but I need to do this.” Clumsily, with tears in his eyes, Henry James began to undo his pants. “She say I wasn’t even a man, miss Lilly!”

Without taking her eyes from his face, Lilly Lee felt around on the ground next to her until she had what she was searching for in her hand. As he pulled up her dress, she brought both hands behind his head and took the two ends of the harp string in each hand, then curved it around his neck, crossing the wire at the man stone in his throat. So focused was he on what he was doing, he barely even noticed her movement “Henry James,” she whispered softly. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me,” she yanked the ends of the wire, “miss Lilly.”

* * *

It was another day before Vance returned from his hunting trip. He had been thinking a lot about Lilly Lee and how their lives seemed to be bound to one another. We’ve been crossing paths and bumbling around each other for seven years now, he thought, preparing the speech he was going to give her as he tugged at his pencil thin black beard. So I’ve been thinking what a good idea it would be if we just went ahead and made everything permanent. He nodded proudly as three quails flushed themselves from the bush just ahead. In one fluid movement, he reached for his bow and took an arrow from his quiver, before he realized he had no where to put any more meat. His gallant gray steed Pitch snorted ruefully as Vance laughed at himself. "Instincts," he muttered, picking up the reigns of the heavy laden horse.

As he strolled into the tiny clearing near the cave, all around him animals chattered. He whistled brightly as the first rays of dawn gave him light to unload Pitch by. Once free of his pack and reins, Pitch took off for the fresh spring just on the other side of the clearing. Vance's mustache twitched merrily in the crisp air as he lifted the pack to his own shoulders thinking, this will be a good day.

Mid-whistle, he stopped, his large left boot hovering in the air, green eyes bulging in disbelief. Setting his foot carefully to the side of the hunk of wood in his path, he looked around and found several other pieces scattered and in the fire pit. Crouching down, he refused to believe what was before him. But the long metal string stretching between two splintered pieces confirmed his worst fear. "No," he choked, dropping his pack and tracing the thin metal wire with his finger. Bolting upright, he spun around, dashing into the cave behind him. A cock crowed in the distance as he gasped, "she’s all right, she’s all right, she’s all right..." over and over to the rhythm of his thundering boots. He rushed through the wide opening of Lilly Lee’s cave, slowing only when he reached the maze of stalagmites in the gloom of the middle. The lightlessness of the deeper parts slowed him to a walk, his breathing heavy. He strained to see through the curtain of gloom. A dim light was shining in the inner sanctuary just past a row of large sharp rocks. It smelled of mold and mead.

"Ah Vance!" came a sluggish but happy voice as he crawled over the last of the rocks. Through the shadows, light emitted from the figure laying half on and half off the small earthen stage. All around it, were the shattered remains of Lilly Lee’s kiwi alter. The statue of the kiwi bird was intact but for a foot and laying almost at his feet. As he carefully stepped around it, he noticed that Lilly Lee’s neck was bent way back so she could see him from where she lay. Her left hand, the one trailing off the stage, was clutching the neck of a bottle whose body was bigger than her head. "Why’re you standin’ upside down?" She asked, slurring slightly, "come on ‘round here so’s you can stand proper like on your feet."

Slowly Vance made his way to the edge of the platform, casting looks every which way to see where she’d hidden the other items from the alter. But the only other light source was a gas lantern hanging just above her bed on the other side of the cave. It was impossible to make out anything. Well, except for the stage on which Lilly Lee lay, but that was because she was glowing. She always did that whenever she drank mead. Something about the alcoholic content combining with honey that made her glow. They’d tried other wines and ales, but nothing else turned her into a human light bulb.

"You must see my prize!" Lilly Lee laughed waving her arm in the air above her reclining body.

Vance squinted, staring up into the blackness above the platform. "I can’t," he said, shaking his head and shrugging.

"Oh! That’s right," Lilly Lee guffawed, her glow increasing with her giddiness. Rising to wobbly feet, she took a long swig from the bottle. The more mead she drank, the brighter was her shine.

After a moment, Vance’s eyes adjusted to the light and saw that something was mounted on the wall. Was it a painting? No, he thought squinting, it was more three dimensional than that. It was... "No!" Vance gasped, stumbling backwards, feeling in the air behind him for a chair that wasn’t there. He sunk with a thud to the ground.

"Yes!" Lilly Lee squealed, clapping her hands as she spun around to look at Henry James’s head mounted high on the cavern wall. "I call it my moose head. Don’t you just love it?"

Vance’s lips worked silently around words like why and how. But not a sound came as he sat helplessly staring at the tattered woman. She spun herself in a pirouette until she was sitting cross legged, staring lovingly up at her trophy on the wall. Slugging back a drink, she drained the bottle. She laid back, twirling the bottle away from her, her head once again lolling off the edge of the stage. She rolled her eyes over to where Vance was standing. "You’re upside down again, silly," she giggled.

It's all so damn amusing...

The truth is, I was being lazy. I should have ended things as soon as I saw his true nature. But my damn curiosity got the better of me and I was having fun. He's the one who kept trying to push for something more serious.

It's interesting that a pathetic little xenophobic, homophobic, racist boy with an impotency problem who lives in his mamma's basement thinks for a second that I care. It's been a while, but I remember I was pissed because he didn't bother to call. My belief is, if you're going to break plans with someone, at least try to pretend to be civilized and call to let them know. I shouldn't have had to call him to find out that he was not coming to my graduation party. And then he has the nerve to say he can do better than me... now that's a laugh. Like I said then, good luck, I wish him everything he deserves. I mean it. I'm certain there's a woman out there who has less self esteem than he does and will play his sad little games and she will be better for him than I could or would ever be. But of course, he won't even try to understand any of this... I shouldn't even bother to waste my words, but it's all so damn amusing!

He was so very upset when I turned him down, refusing to be his girlfriend. He didn't understand that the reason we went out at all was that he was mildly amusing -- I'd never dated a Raw Food Satanist before. Then, when he revealed his racist and sexist nature, I was intrigued. When he found out that I'm a feminist, he flipped. Poor little boy, it blew his mind. I honestly believe he has the potential to be a decent human being. Unfortunately he hasn't any desire to do so. He is at the point of harming himself and possibly others in his selfish petty attitude. It's sad, really.

"Could [she] not foresee that I get harsh with a woman once I get bored of her?" That was being harsh? I just found it to be inconsiderate, but we have such different standards. To quote a wise woman --- only boring people get bored. And ain't that the truth!