Butterfly And The Cleptomaniac

When I said I've met weird people in my life, I actually meant it. Not just the ones with rock hard silicons, or the ones that thought sticking their hands down my pants was amusing or some whom I believed breached the realm of bimboism and was plain retarded. Once upon a time, there was a cleptomaniac..

For the uninitiated, a cleptomaniac is someone who suffers from kleptomania, which is a degenerative mental instability, resulting in an uncontrollable impulse to steal. It is frowned upon in society much like paedophilia, obesity and beige panties.

Cleptomaniac: [noun]

1. A person suffering from Kleptomania
2. Crazy muthafuckers who need to steal
3. Winona Ryder

How we actually met was what you would call, a 'right mistake'. I, of course did not know she was a cleptomaniac, not like it mattered at that point and it was not like they carried the bane of their psychology around like 60 pounds of fat spilling over the hips.

I was at the club smiling at two girls dirty dancing and she walked pass with her friends, thought I was smiling at her and returned the smile. 5 minutes later, while I continued to be assiduously studying two women gyrating their hips against one another and wondering if they might get groin abrasions tomorrow, some chick started talking into my ear.

She: "What's so interesting to watch?"

I turned to see the same girl who was smiling at me earlier.

Me: "There are two girls making out. What isn't interesting in that? If you start making out right infront of me, you will have my attention."

She: "I told my friend that there was this cute boy smiling at me and that I would come over and talk to him."

I was tipsy, not too interested in having my dick sucked by anyone that night and left my egoistic persona in the toilet right after I mis-aimed my piss and leaked a couple drops on my pants.

Me: "Did I smile at you?"

It was an expression of shock, embarassment and the kind of face people give when they have the wrong answer. In any instance it was the perfect example on why I generally do not hit on random women.

She: "Fine."

I'm well versed in Women's Bullshit 101 to know that 'Fine' (with a silent punctuation at the end) is never really 'fine'. I also know that the immediate action to the recoil of taking a snub is to turn and walk away. Since I knew all the reactions, I easily formulated my re-introduction to her because I was well prepared to pull her back by the arm.

I ran through the gauntlet of mandatory trivialities like, her name and age, which the former I knew I was never going to remember till I had her saved in my phonebook and the latter, just so I know it would be perfectly legal to remove her clothes. She dished out a barrage of compliments and I responded by the only way I knew how; by making out with her.

There are girls you meet and wonder how many boring dates and chloroform pads you need before you can get her into the sack, and some who would play the virginal whore and make you recite your prayers before you even get to foreplay. This girl, was the girl you know would fuck you even if your bed was being renovated or at the back seat of your campy Hiace (if you even have a backseat). And that was a good thing.

She was pretty much the spark that made my night out worthwhile. For one, she was drunk, very vocal, made out with some Caucasian lady and seemed appreciative to my decadance. It was one of those women that I knew I didn't have to impress, but only needed to simply suggest. I am truly blessed with luck. I love being me.

The only downside was that the best time we had were that 30mins in the club. As soon as we got out and left for supper, she started complaining about the top she was wearing and wanted to changed out of it.

Me: "What? You brought change of clothes?"
She: "Nope, but I stole a couple of tops in town just now."

Stole? Now, surely she was kidding..

Me: "You what? I thought I heard you said you stole some tops."
She: "Yes I did. Look!"

She proceeded to show me her bag stuffed with about 4-5 blouses, of which, all still had their price tags on. My expression was the very mimic of her half an hour ago. Shocked, consternated and the face people have when they choose the wrong chick to fuck.

Me: "Are you fucking serious?"
She: "Yea! I think I'll go back to XXX, the things there are real easy to steal."

If I had the ability to think pass an erection, I would have punched her, called the cops and be forever celebrated as a hero, but that would have spoiled the fun and this girl was getting interesting, despite turning out to be some klepto-crazed chick.

For one, this girl took alot of my bullshit. I was obnoxiously cocky in almost everything I replied, but she constantly fed my ego till I eventually got bored.

She: "So why no girlfriend?"
Me: "Don't need one. I fuck more people this way."
She: "A player, but you have the calibre anyway. So why not pick up some other girl?"
Me: "Why do I need to pick anyone up, when I have you to pick me up."

Beyond that, she was very much like the other girls. They would start out by saying they would never do one night stands, or would never get into bed with me. They would thin out the compliments and bring out several of my shortcomings. They would associate me as a craftmaster of the game and a perennial asshole. They would play up the very impossibility of standing in front of me naked.

Next, before they can even find new vocabulary to sustain their vituperation for my very moral fibre or self being, we are either banging at the back seat of the car or quivering from an orgasmic wave. It's funny how this happens and I constantly wonder why people even bother to say 'never'.

Naturally, where most people are contented to spoon quietly at the aftermath of furious hip thrusting or cock sucking, this girl decided that she would burn up the remaining of her calories from that 2 lychee martinis, by reiterating her point of me being a horrible person, with very little redeeming qualities.

I always found this an amusing pillow talk conversation, since I last remembered sex was largely a consensual activity between two adults, or sometimes one kid and one sick adult or one adult and an ignorant animal.

This girl was castigating me on moral issues. She, who has emotional issues and needs to resort to stealing, telling me about how wrong my life is. Wow, this was like having Bill Clinton give a speech on marital fidelity. I'm sure it's good advise, but let's not teach prostitutes how to do an ass rim.

While this girl could take anything from a blouse off the shelf or a cock in her mouth pretty well, she couldn't take jokes. And that was a huge problem when it comes to being around me, because I partake in caustic humour, which some people cannot dechiper and handle well and they end up taking it personally.

And the fact that she got so easily offended, amused me to no end. I'm serious. This girl would play along as a China prostitute on one night and then never want me to remind her of that scabrous rendezvous the next day. And I thought it was another one of her role play, this time as the virginal nun, so I continued to pour a visual cinematic epilogue of how our last meeting ended.

She got pissed even more and I thought she was just a natural at role-playing. Apparently, I was wrong and she eventually told me that she was serious and how emotionally volatile she was. I was obviously smart enought to know that being around her was like shuffling on a Cambodian mine field. So I did the only chivalrous thing I know,

I ignored her.