Meet EvilGuy... And The Tenth and Eleventh Women That I've Slept With

(Previous Story: Chelsea, Number Nine.)

In movies and books, I've always had a morbid fascination for the villain. If not the villain, then the guy who at least challenges the hero to a good fight. He is always way cooler than the hero. My favorite character in The Illiad? Hector. Most interesting characters in The Bible? Judas and Cain. My favorite characters from Star Wars? Darth Vader and Boba Fett. My favorite characters from The Simpsons? Sideshow Bob and Mister Burns.

The villain in me is EvilGuy. Long ago, I made a conscious decision to not let him come-out. For a long while, he has been quite dormant. EvilGuy is the part of me that I usually keep shackled and suppressed. EvilGuy spends his time living in a dungeon in the dark recesses of my mind with a sign hung on the door: "Beware of Very Bad Dude". Even though he does poison my overall thinking from time to time when I let my guard down, so far I've been quite successful at keeping him at bay. But you know what? Fuck it.

Fuck it. That's right. I said 'Fuck it'.

I've turned around an important corner: I'm Letting EvilGuy come-out and play for the last few months I'm going to be in America. Such is the price of NiceGuy's beleaguered aspirations to see his niceness and generosity to women appreciated and returned in kind. NiceGuy can only give as good as he gets; we are through the looking-glass.

So you've met NiceGuy. Now meet EvilGuy. In soap operas or other badly-made serials where a character has an evil look-alike, the wicked doppelganger has an eye-patch or a goatee or a mechanical hand or a facial scar or something to distinguish himself as being the bad guy. Well... EvilGuy looks just like me. Except he wears a black trench-coat, black boots, black sunglasses, black trousers... hell, black everything. He looks good in black. And his entrance onto the scene is often accompanied by malevolent-sounding background music by Prodigy or Rob Zombie.

EvilGuy is Omega to NiceGuy's Alpha. He is night to NiceGuy's day. He is negative to NiceGuy's positive. He is Dirk Dastardly to NiceGuy's Dudley Do-Right. He is the aggregate composite of every bad urge towards women that I've ever suppressed. He has accumulated in the blackest corners of my mind directly as a result of exposure to female bullshit. EvilGuy is, in short, the combined rotting crap that has built-up in my psyche's waste-disposal unit over the last decade.

EvilGuy doesn't give a shit about American women between the ages of 16 and 35. EvilGuy thinks they are ambulatory vaginas who exist purely to be taken advantage of. He lies and he cheats. EvilGuy recognizes that if he did not take advantage of women, then they would have him crawling around on hands and knees, trying to make him apologize for being male.

"Screw that. And screw them." Quoth he.

At one point, NiceGuy fell in love with American women. NiceGuy had compassion for the suffering and travails of American women (whether the problem be real or invented). But EvilGuy... nah, he don't care about any of that nonsense. He thinks they're just a bunch of miserable sows, anyway. When he hears about bad things happening to American women, at best, he reacts with indifference. He thinks they largely deserve it; sometimes he gets a sadistic kick out of it.

A while back, NiceGuy wrote an essay regarding several single moms who had indicated they were interested in perhaps pursuing a relationship. NiceGuy readily morphed into Captain FreeTherapist for them whenever they needed it. They'd asked NiceGuy to have sex with them, but NiceGuy politely abstained because he didn't think the situation was appropriate. He cared about their emotions and he didn't want to take advantage of them. Well, that was before EvilGuy emerged from his dwelling-hole.

What does EvilGuy say to all this?

"Why abstain? Indulge. Then once you're done, kick them to the curb. You're going to keep me locked-away while you're in Japan, and we've got two months left until then. Seriously, give me one single reason why I shouldn't use those two chicks for what they're good for? Their only agenda was to see how much nurturing they could get out of a nuturing man like you anyway, NiceGuy. They are ripe for the plucking, and the window of opportunity is closing." He rubs his hands together rancorously, chuckling like Dr. Claw.

"Don't have sex with a woman if you don't want to get emotionally attached." Replied NiceGuy.

EvilGuy flashed his troublemaker's grin. "Quaint concept you cling to, this 'emotional attachment'. Very, very droll. Cute that you actually swallow bilgewater like that."

"But it's just not right to do that."

"Righteousness with an empty sack is worth precisely... an empty sack. Women in America are, deep-down, a bunch of mewling, greedy babies. They want all the perks of being a lady while wanting all the privileges that men have without the responsibilitites that entitle men to them. And you care about the right way to treat them?" He snorts. "What have you been smoking, sir? They are worthy only of contempt, not adoration. All I see is a whole continent full of lying, manipulative, self-centered beldams who roam from man to man like locusts, depleting each's ability to meet her gazillion demands. When his ability gets used-up, that's when they discard him and move-on to the next sucker."

"But it's just not moral to use a woman purely for sex." NiceGuy sighs. "Please don't?"

"Schmucks spend all their time whining about morality. The bad-boys don't whine about morality; they're too busy getting some poon-tang. Let me tell you something NiceGuy, you'll NEVER be Mister Right. We're all just experiments for women. They get with us to see how much they can change us into the mythical man they fantasize about. If and when they succeed in changing us, we'll no longer be a 'challenge' and they'll dump us. Fuck them while you can and move-on. Women are genetically programmed to lust after alpha-male predators, so that's what you have to be- a predator."

"I don't want to hurt a woman's feelings." Protested NiceGuy.

"She doesn't give a flying fuck about your feelings! She thinks you don't have any! Why the hell should you care about hers? I tell you, there is nothing sweeter than drinking-in the tears of a female. Nothing." EvilGuy touched his pinky finger to the corner of his mouth.

"But... I don't really believe all that. It's just what I say when I get angry. I want to see women treated nicely. Being nice is its own reward..." NiceGuy shook his head. "Long ago, I decided I wanted to treat women nicely and make them feel cared-for. I said I didn't want to use women for sex. I didn't want to be a bad guy."

"Oh, and wasn't that just a rousing success?!" Snorted EvilGuy. "A decade of proven failure, it was! You've been playing the jackass all these years. You approached women with the intention of respecting them. Treating them like they are wonderful creatures who deserve love and care." He sputumed on the floor as he said this. "Deep-down, women expect to be treated like shit! When you don't treat them like shit, they think something's wrong with you. And how do they behave when that happens? Rejection after rejection. They disrespect you. They spend your money, bend your brain and kick your heart-in. They are thankless, spoiled, hypocritical whelps who'd use any excuse to take advantage of someone like you. Take a break, weenie, and let me drive for a while. I'll make you a deal you can't refuse: let me free until you go to Japan, and I'll voluntarily keep myself locked away for the entire duration that you're over there."

"Well... part of me still thinks that being honest with American women is the best policy. " NiceGuy protested, feeling himself sliding down the slippery slope to the Dark Side. "I want women to feel safe with me. I can't let you prey on the vulnerable, I want them to trust me."

"Trust?" Asks EvilGuy. "Women don't give a shit about you, why in hell should you trust them? The instant she thinks you're happy, she'll stop at nothing to make you miserable. She'll try to get everything she wants out of you, and she'll grind you to pulp and freaking bone-chips if that's what it takes to get it. Riddle me this: what does a female say instead of 'fuck you'?"

"What?"

"She says: 'Trust me'." He threw his head back and cackled at his own joke. Cackled like Skeletor, in fact.

And, gosh-darn it, NiceGuy couldn't think of a come-back to that.

"Very well. It's a deal." He replied, sadly. "I'll let you out until I go to Japan. Then, you go back in your cage."

"Back in my cage... with one exception." EvilGuy raised his black-gloved index finger.

"Oh no. What's this exception?"

"If you come into contact with any any western woman in Japan whom you think is a bitch, I get to come-out."

"I don't like the idea of this unholy bargain at all..." NiceGuy frowns. "But what choice do I have? I want to keep all this evil to a minimum. And I certainly don't want to be mean to any Japanese women." NiceGuy proffers his hand. "Sigh. You drive a hard bargain. Very well, I grudgingly accept your terms. If I meet a bitchy western chick while I'm in Japan, you can come-out of your box, and only if it won't compromise my relationships with any Japanese people, western men or other people whom I declare to be off-limits. But that's the only occasion it'll be allowed. Agreed?"

"Absolutely, NiceGuy. Agreed." And we shook on it.

Number Ten: Single Mom Angelica.

Um, EvilGuy? It's me. The reader. Anyways, I was just wondering... I thought you liked that Ninth Girl... Chelsea?

"Chel-who?"

You know, your brother's room-mate?

"Doesn't ring a bell. Piss-off, mon amis. I've got prey to snare."

Single Mom Angelica was, about six years earlier, an exotic dancer. And she's somewhat attractive in the face and hair department. (She'd even had a single photo of her published in a 1995 edition of Playboy. If you're impressed by that, don't be. I can tell you that nowadays, her body doesn't look anything like it did in that picture.)

She's had a tough life. She'd been abused as a child. The reason why she started doing exotic dancing was a deep-seated psychological need to get-back at her abusive, controlling father. While that was going on, she also had a series of men who battered and raped her. She's very up-front as to why this happened: she says it happened because in the past, she only liked jerks. NiceGuy once asked her: "Would you have found me dateable 5 years ago?"

Angelica replied: "No, I wouldn't have. I was stupid back then."

She would've rejected NiceGuy back when she was in her prime. Now that she's worn-out from all the bad boys, she comes crawling on her belly to use NiceGuy as her emotional crutch. That's all the reason EvilGuy needs to have some fun at her expense. If she'll try to use NiceGuy, his wicked twin will try to use her right back.

EvilGuy picks-up the phone.

"Hey there, Angelica. I wanted to call to let you know that I just got The Sixth Sense on DVD. I know that it might be a bit short notice for you to get a baby-sitter... you want to come over and watch? Oh, are you sure it's no trouble? Thanks... I'll pick you up at seven, then? Cool. See yas."

Seven O'clock Rolls-around.

EvilGuy welcomes her into the apartment.

"Welcome to my Pit of Penultimate Agony. It used to be my Pit of Ultimate Agony, but then someone down the street opened a pit slighty more agonizing than this one."

She chuckled and lay-down on the couch.

EvilGuy is about to put-in the DVD. "You know, I'd order a pizza for us..." he shrugs "...but I don't have any money on me right now." He lied.

"Oh, don't worry about it." She says. "I can take care of that."

"Really? Thank you." EvilGuy picked-up the phone and ordered a pizza.

They lay down on the couch to watch the movie. She snuggles into him for warmth and comfort.

"I miss being held sometimes." She says.

"That's a shame." Says EvilGuy, as he spoons his arm over her. Before long, the pizza arrive and they continue watching the movie.

As the movie draws to a close, EvilGuy gives her a squeeze. "You know what?" He asked.

"Hmm?"

"Well... I kind of realized something the other day."

"What's that?" She whispered, her eyes half-open.

"I realized that I'll be moving to Japan... and I'll never get to experience making love to you." He looked into her eyes. "I'll always look-back and regret not letting you close to me."

She looked pleasantly surprised and touched his face.

"Oh..." She kissed EvilGuy on the lips. "I'm going to miss you too!" She bushed her hand on his cheek. "Of course I want to make love to you..." She kissed him again...

Angelica and EvilGuy went into the bedroom...

EvilGuy laid on his back and let Angelica do all the work. He orgasmed, she didn't. Afterwards, she lay on top of him and stroked his chest.

"That feel nice?" She asked.

"Phew... that was very nice."

It was late at night, so they slept. The next morning, he drove her home.

"Call me, okay?" Said Angelica, as she gave him a good-bye kiss on the cheek.

"Sure thing, babe." Smirked EvilGuy.

Yeah, right.

Number Eleven: Single Mom Laurie

About noon the next day, EvilGuy phoned Single Mom Laurie. Laurie has a 4 year-old daughter; Laurie is slender, blonde and has a round face. She divorced her husband because, apparently, he was a no-goodnik. But if she really likes no-goodniks, then that's what she'll get from EvilGuy.

She's also a massage therapist. She once offered to give NiceGuy a full-body massage. A 'full-body' massage sounds like it has the potential to get sexual, and NiceGuy politely declined because he didn't want to possibly mislead her into thinking that he was interested in a sexual relationship. But EvilGuy? He's never had a full-body massage before...

"Hi Laurie... I just got a DVD of the movie Memento. Wanna come over and watch? Oh, I hope it's not too short notice for you to get a babysitter. No? Great! I'll pick you up at seven."

Seven O'clock rolls-around

EvilGuy welcomes Laurie into the apartment. She tells her to hop onto the couch while he gets the movie set-up... as he puts the DVD into the machine, he says: "Oh, you know what'd be really nice right about now? If we ordered-out for Chinese food."

"That's a good idea." She agrees. EvilGuy hands her the take-out menu, and looks into his wallet.

"Oh, crap. I don't think I have enough cash on-hand to cover the cost of ordering take-out." He sighs sadly.

"No problem." Laurie said. "I'll take care of it."

"Really? Thanks! That's so nice of you..."

They settle-down on the couch to watch the movie... Time passes. The food arrives, and they enjoy General Tso's chicken while watching the film. By the time the movie ends, EvilGuy opens his mouth to speak.

"You know what?" EvilGuy asked.

"Hmm?"

"Well... I kind of realized something the other day." He whispered.

"What's that?" She whispered.

"I realized that I'll be moving to Japan... and I'll never get to experience getting a massage from you." He looked into her eyes. "I'll always look-back and regret it..."

"Oh, of course I'll give you a massage!" She smiles. "But I need some lotion or something."

It just so happens EvilGuy has a bottle of mineral oil for just such an occasion. How conveeeeeenient.

Lying on the bed, Slathered in Oil

EvilGuy was laying on his back, naked save for a hand-towel covering his privates. He was on his bed with about four bathroom towels separating him from the sheets. Laurie had been doing a great job. One leg, than the other. Then the arms, then the neck, then down the back... He got flipped-over, and she started rubbing all over the front.

"How do you like it?" She asks.

"It feels incredible." EvilGuy smiles.

Laurie starts massaging up to his upper, inner thigh. Immediately, his erection is making a visible tent on the towel...

"Oops... sorry about that." EvilGuy pretended to be embarassed. "It kinds of has a mind of its own..." He swiveled his hips slightly, so that his hardened member brushed by her hand... "Oh, God, I want to make love to you..." He gasped. Smiling, she grasped it and began to massage it. EvilGuy arched his back in pleasure. Laurie started stripping-off her clothes and climbed onto the bed... As expected.

Afterwards...

EvilGuy laid on his back and let Laurie do all the work. He orgasmed, she didn't. Afterwards, she lay on top of him and stroked his chest.

"Feel good?" She asked.

"Phew... very good."

It was late at night, so they slept. The next morning, he drove her home.

"Call me, okay?" Said Laurie, as she gave him a good-bye kiss on the cheek.

"Sure thing, babe." Smirked EvilGuy.

Yeah, right.

Random Acts of Unkindness

Later that day, EvilGuy was walking down the street in a busy cluster of shops downtown, half-drunk with glee at how fun it was to take advantage of those two gals. The wind was icy cold and it lashed briskly at his face. Suddenly, coming-out of a shop in front of him were a pair of very attractive women in their late 20s.

Holy... they were hot. They were both about 5'7". One had curly blond hair, the other was a raven-haired beauty. One had angelic, kryptonite-green eyes the other had eyes of azure behind very expensive-looking glasses. They both looked like they'd just gotten their hair and make-up professionally done. They were each wearing fashionable, rather expensive-looking coats.

You know, if NiceGuy was around, he'd probably say to them "Hello, I'm NiceGuy. I wanted to say that I think you're both very pretty, and I'd love to get to know you better. Would you like to have coffee with me sometime?" Or some sickeningly-sweet pabulum like that.

And do you know how they'd react? Some naked deceit like "oh, we're busy all decade, but thanks for offering." A fat load of good that 'I think you're pretty' bullshit would do for NiceGuy. He is so pathetic. In fact, those chicks up there have probably had ten guys hit on them this week. All that complimenting can really inflate your ego. Time to prick their balloons. Let's see if I can't take a bite out of their self-esteems?

Smirking oddly to himself, EvilGuy walks-past the two women. Just as his shoulder is about to pass the nearest ones' shoulder, he turns his head and says: "Holy shit, you're ugly!"

He walked-on, expecting to get something thrown at the back of his head. He grit his teeth and braced for impact.

But none came.

He didn't look-back and continued to walk away, but he strained his ears, listening for some kind of 'Fuck you, asshole!' to be screamed at him.

But none came. Silence. They were probably too stunned to reply.

He continued on his way, grinning wickedly. Ooh yeah. That felt good...

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"Now you see... Evil will always triumph. Because Good... is dumb." -- Rick Moranis as Darth Helmet, SpaceBalls.

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