The Other Side

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
That Casanova loving.... but what happens on the other side? I mean, who is he really? If you hadn't met him as the lady's man but a coworker, would you still be enamored?
What if the lady's man that you usually see is covering up something else? Say, a completely different personality? One that you'd loathe but will never find?

Submitted: September 04, 2017

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Submitted: September 04, 2017

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The Other Side

 

We all want to meet him – the lady’s man. The Casanova of today. Sure, he’s one of many that will steal our hearts and souls. But we want to be whisked away. We secretly want to endure the heartbreak that will surely engulf us all. Yet the stories we tell years from now will be filled with wonder and awe, that time when we fell for the man who treated us like royalty.

It’s a wonderful dream, really. It’s more intriguing to think of how Casanova became who he was/is. How did he decide that he wanted to be a heartbreaker? Did he choose or was it something that came to him naturally so he pursued it? Was it a result of something in his childhood? Psychologically, there’s many answers to these questions. It’s probably interesting to research it all.

But the allure of Casanova stops when you aren’t a target, but rather an acquaintance, coworker, and friend. See, the grandeur of Casanova is what you see when you’re enamored, what you see when he has eyes on you, when all you want is a piece of that a**.

The problem is being on the other side – the side where you hear the constant tales, the nonsense, the tricks you pull, and all the lies.

Here’s my story of the other side:

Let me be perfectly honest. If I had met this guy in another setting, I probably would have given him some credit. He’s got a strong game and his looks – even better (unfortunately he doesn’t hold a flame to his friend). If he had approached me at a club (where I didn’t know him), I’d probably give him a few minutes, a smile, and maybe my number. After all, he’s a lady’s man.

That being said, I didn’t meet him a club. I met him a work. And no one liked him. He complained all the time about his workload. Too much work? Complaining. Too little work? Complaining. Just the right amount of work? You guessed it, complaining.

All I heard everyday was constant whining from the guy. Like, how did this guy get so many women in his life when I hadn’t ever been on one successful date? Like, from what I overhead at the work, girls flocked around him. Half the women that worked at the workplace talked to him like they had been friends for years. The dude had been working there for a fucking six months.

Granted, I thought he wasn’t bad looking. But the complaining dragged at me. I couldn’t stand it. Of course, the women at work didn’t have my viewpoint. We both really couldn’t stand in each other’s shoes. Makes sense.

 I saw one failed relationship during this whole stint but that’s only because the girl was crazier than him and playing everyone she met. I’ll strike her from the record.

As I got to know the guy, I realized that he was a lazy little shit. He never did more than he was told and sometimes did less if he could get away with it. Half hour lunches turned into hour lunches. Complaining sometimes turned into rambling (I usually spaced out). It was fucking annoying. And it didn’t stop when we clocked out.

Occasionally at group hangouts, we’d still hear all the work problems – but from his mouth. I wanted to strangle him so bad. What did girls see in him? Was I missing something?

And that’s when it really got to me.

When he started considering me a friend.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s cool enough to hang out with. But if I had a dire need to share a piece of my soul, this guy would be the last one to tell. He’s also a blabbermouth.

Stories upon stories about other women flooded my free time. He’d talk about the ones that he loved the most, the one that he thought had been the one, and what he did to them behind closed doors. Like, what the fuck? I don’t want to know how you romanced them. Like, I’m glad you’re getting some but I don’t want to know how. You’re not that hot.

And then the pictures. I wanted to burn my eyes. I didn’t expect him to show me pictures of his girls that he had taken when he was dating them. One particular picture that I wanted to destroy:

His entire back had welts – large ones. They were red. They looked extremely painful. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. Had he been whipped? Had he survived some excruciating exercise?

No.

Apparently those were from some girl he had sexed who liked to dig her nails into his back. REPEATEDLY.

Ew.

Good God.

What you all think of as a lady’s man – the man who will inevitably break your heart has an entirely different side to him as well. You want to know who he really is? Talk to one of his friends – that’s a girl. Because what you think is cute or hot or damn well sexy, might be paired with annoying, immature, and perverted.

Just saying….

 


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