This man is a ghost;
I’ve seen him from my past -
The claustrophobic carpets, war-time music, teak-veneered furniture,
Gas fire always on;
A snug little home,
A hell-hole for a rat to gnaw on plump kittens.
Don’t take a bath, he’ll peek round the door!
The psychological warfare begins in the morning,
The casual undermining, the pleading, the criticism,
Then continues in the evening -
Chocolates, your favourite music,
He treats you well, this damp little man.
A motorbike accident crippled his balls, apparently;
He can’t get it up.
Three times in a row his hot water bottle bursts,
Three nights he inveigles himself into my bed and tries it on;
I finally twig, and I’m GONE.
‘Oh yes,’ his colleague says casually, ‘Ah!’
Thanks, mate.
I suspect most people have been in a scenario where someone’s tried to take advantage of them s**ually.
This guy was pleasantness personified to my parents when I was looking for a first place to lodge, but soon showed his true colours. A very manipulative character, undermining with criticism, wheedling and whining to put pressure on, making a conspicuous effort to be ‘nice’ by sharing chocolates, then applying more pressure with a guilt trip, trying to break down my barriers.
Creepy.
Being dumb and young it wasn’t until it was blatantly obvious that I finally figured out what he was up to.
As I left I had a conversation with his work colleague in the workshop below the house.
And what threw me was this guy’s deliberate attempt not to see what was going on - presumably because it would have caused too many problems.
