The Continuing Downward Spiral of Sarah - Necrophilia

Necrophilia

Photo by valentin ciccarone on Unsplash

It was past time for Sarah to grow up, time to stop playing the victim and acting like a poor, little girl, which was all this relationship was an extension of. She was long past high school. It was time for her to stop role playing for shallow man children and absolutely time for her to stop using men who were her daddy, especially if they were using and manipulating her in return.

It’s an old trope, with some truth to it, that women choose men like their fathers and men choose women like their mothers. However, Sarah hadn’t chosen a man who was like her father, with some characteristics in common. She’d chosen a man just like her father. She was, for all intents and purposes, fucking her dad. It was sick. It was a deeply-seated pathology with her and the age difference heightened the illness in it. The same pathology made it impossible for her to recognize how degenerate it was for her to see this man at all.

The spawning of this relationship of convenience wasn’t any better. She had appealed to him, as a daddy surrogate, to help her with her almost completely fictional “problem” with Bob, which she, in her neuroses, had created for herself. And this opportunistic crypt keeper had, of course, taken advantage of the situation. Sarah did not understand how men think. This almost-septuagenarian was single and likely lonely, seeking a last chance before death. The prospect of a younger woman who was extremely easy to manipulate was too good to pass up, and that was his only real motivation. It had to be. There was nothing else in Sarah for him, nothing real to connect to. It didn’t matter how nice a guy was. If there were a large age gap, it was inevitable that, in his mind, he was in control, and Sarah, being a traumatized dolt, likely from her actual father, would feed that feeling with her self-debasing deference. Sarah was a relationship idiot and would pretend to like what he liked. The truth was assured. He wasn’t actually interested in her for her. She was simply convenient. She’d done this to herself before and it was unlikely this one would turn out any differently. It was a situation of mutual exploitation, but Sarah wasn’t capable of understanding that she was being exploited.

Bob had to wonder if this deteriorating opportunist was the type of diseased individual who wore his religion on his sleeve as well, the “good Christian man.” Bob would have bet money he was. Sarah didn’t understand that people who cover everything with religion are hiding something, and it’s usually that they’re horrible people. One look at this guy gave him away.

Bob would never be able to grasp the pathology that led Sarah to these self-destructive acts. There was simply no way she was going to be happy with a corpse she had nothing in common with no matter how much money he had. He understood that she was incapable of opposing her friends and asserting herself, but she should have, at least, learned to avoid people who were part of her circle by now. She hadn’t. That circle aspect made it a situation in which she was peer-pressured to continue the relationship no matter how unhealthy it was for her. She needed to knock it off. She needed to tell her friends to fuck off and to stop abusing herself for their approbation…and she needed to stop letting that opportunistic corpse invade her body with his rotten manhood. She needed to stop being self-delusional, but the society in which she was raised was built on self-delusion.

If Sarah had given Bob half a chance, instead of hysterically reacting to the prospect of not conforming to her social constraints, she would have seen how simple and unpretentious a relationship is supposed to be, a real relationship not built on status-seeking bullshit and other people’s expectations. But she was too brainwashed to conceive of any kind of relationship that wasn’t built on everything that didn’t matter. She was still trying to cash in. She could not divorce the idea of a relationship from money, money she didn’t need and wouldn’t fulfill her. She had done fine on her own for years and didn’t seem to realize that she didn’t need this man’s support. That’s what happens when one is raised in an environment in which wealth and status matters more than people.

Bob wondered if this ugly, amoral hustler had offered to “fix her face,” with which she was overly-obsessed, as the ultimate bribe, which would mean she’d debased herself to the level of a common prostitute and was almost there anyway, or if he played on it in some way to break her confidence. It was one or the other, whether he malignantly used it or brought it up all the time so he could “console” her. There was no way he wasn’t using it. It was such an exceedingly simple situation: the creep was too old for her and had manipulated her into a relationship, and she, being a user herself, had walked right into it, blind to the reality that she was making herself look like someone of extremely low morals in the process.

She had squandered a real shot at genuine happiness for superficial garbage and sold herself to a sugar daddy. That was it in a nutshell. And, if she ever realized what a horrible person she was and had been to Bob, it was too late for her to salvage the situation. Bob would never forgive her and she likely didn’t care that he wouldn’t, making excuses for herself through her own pathology, justifying her own unjustifiable behavior to herself. She would invent a million excuses and rationalizations for why it wasn’t true, but the facts remained…

….she had no morals and was fucking a corpse for convenience.