book of doom
it sat on the top of his bookshelf. a list of all the women....no, girls...he'd met over the years. he'd write down their name, number, email address.. giving his own in return. they kept his current, while he moved on after a few emails, a phone call or two. he'd look at the list sometimes, mulling over the conquests he'd made without ever touching them. it allowed him to fantasize, dream, wonder over a life with each. he knew in his heart, back behind the wall he had up, that they were just that, girls...and that he deeply wanted and needed that particular woman to fill the role of mother/whore that would complete his life. he also knew to woo the woman he knew so well, would take far too much of his time and emotions...both of them in short supply. so, he stuck with the black bound book of dreams... and wished he were a stronger man.