i ate my valentine.
Valentines Day Post/Storytime/Cannibal stories
Back when my favourite lover was in my bed, I touched his forehead and told him that I wanted to peel his skin, layer by layer, and eat his brains. His face dropped a little and he laughed, saying that compliment was too much. I told him that the most romantic thing a person can do is want to consume you. He didn’t have an answer for that. I am one of the few true romantics that I know. Today is actually my second favourite holiday (with Christmas at the top because I am a Mariah Carey fan and still wishing for a snowy Christmas) and it looks like I’ll be spending it alone. It’s my own fault. I had three offers and I rejected all three of them. My reasoning, however, was entirely justified for every single insufferable prospect. As my friends have described as a man eater of recent times, I’ll describe each prospect exactly how a literal man eating hot cannibal would!
(I promise I have no prior experience consuming human flesh, any affiliation with vampires who drink human blood or any in hospital ties for flesh and/or blood supply)
MEAT PAST DUE.
I am a fan of familiar things. I know what they are, how they will come and I tend to lean towards it when it comes to people. This particular specimen of flesh was my ex boyfriend. I was in the kitchen contemplating the blank spaces in my fridge when he messaged me. He probably hoped that I wouldn’t be able to remember him well and he’d be able to shape some sort of new first memory with me again. I think guys sort of revel in that. When you don’t immediately know who they are, they get to inch you in the right direction their way. They’ll pinpoint the memories that they hope was of high importance to you when you’re still blanking until you finally meet them at their level. Unfortunately for him, I have an amazing memory. I addressed him by first and last name, which shocked him. I was in the middle of getting over my favourite sample and he came right on time, as if the universe was offering him to me. What the universe gives you, you take, correct? We ended up speaking for a few hours, catching up on a bunch of things. He told me he works out consistently, works on cars, models and was preparing for his final year of uni. In my head, I imagined his muscles tensing up and a leaner model of who I had dated. He said he’d be coming to my area soon. I told him honestly, that I was a little afraid of what would happen if he were to come near me because it seems everything we had done was leading up to eventual consumption. He said he had no issue with that. MPD was one of my odder exes. He was not only open to the idea of being consumed, but reveled in it. He admitted that he lived for the worship of who would eventually take him to eat him from the inside out, seeing them as some kind of goddess. I didn’t know how I felt about that. I didn’t see myself as a goddess and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I quite liked being grounded in the world I live in amongst flesh and the other meat eaters who can barely distinguish their own from a discount sirloin steak. As the night grew darker, I grew more tired and yet he seemed invigorated. He saw a recent picture of me and seemed stunned. He had forgotten that I only get better over time. In the light of my screen and my slumber closing in, I made the foolish mistake of saying ‘Of course I still have love for you! We dated!’ to the flesh specimen still in love with me. He paused and said, deeply seriously, ‘I love you, Halle.’. I answered an off handed I love you too and asked if he’d end the call now. I woke up to the call continuing.
I was in the middle of getting over my favourite sample and he came right on time, as if the universe was offering him to me. What the universe gives you, you take, correct?
I ended it immediately. He called back, saying ‘Isn’t it so cute that we both fell asleep on the phone together?’. I said no. I asked him not to do that again. The day was spent with him at my heels, messaging and calling at every moment. Whatever he saw became my problem. He tried to call to show me every aspect of his day. It felt like I was getting a lesson on every tendon in his body and it made me queasy. I was beginning to wonder how worth it this meal was. He then asked if he could stay with me for 7 days and 7 nights, even offering to chip in with groceries. As if I had asked him to play house. This possible victim was beginning to freak me out. I started to feel like I was the one being hunted! He reached my limit when I was getting a good night’s rest and he called me at 2am to reiterate his worship to me. I told him he gets a one call a day limit. The next day, he said he’d be working 10-7 and I rejoiced. I made no effort to contact him until 8pm, when I made a lazy ‘how was work’. He asked to call. I said I was journaling. He asked to call after, I said no. He asked if he was being insufferable, I said I didn’t know (yes). He asked if there’s anything he can do, I told him I needed no more questions. The next day, he messaged that he was sorry for being insufferable and that he would leave. I went to collect my last victim and a week later, after a sudden change of heart, he messaged saying he got cold feet but he was ready to be devoured from the inside out. But I had lost my appetite. I don’t like meat past due.
FOE.
My hunger was creeping back now. I was at work and I felt myself itching for my next fix. New job. My coworkers weren’t aware of my habits yet, and one felt oddly close to me. He was asking me multiple questions and gave me the compliment that I looked beautifully. I asked him, annoyed, ‘When do I not?’ and he said ‘Never’. After getting hints from him and other coworkers, I was sure he liked me. He offered a free dinner the next day. What kind of person would I be to say no? Besides, it would be an opportunity to get a taste of him…or not. He came with reinforcements. Two of his own friends and two children. They were in a charity together. I was situated a terrible area of the table, in the middle of two naturally loud speakers. Sometimes, they would converse with me in the middle or seem to yell something randomly, to the point my head began to hurt. His friend and I, however, exchanged secret glances and laughed together in these little moments. When moments like this occur, you forget your insatiable hunger for flesh and begin to see the soul peeking behind it. I felt strangely united with his friend in those moments. But I did not take my eye off the prize. I asked him if he was going to tell me his predictions were on us and he said there was not the place. He asked me to come back to his place for him to tell me. I smiled and accepted, reapplying my lipstick before I left. I did not ignore how his friend looked at me during this. This is a detail that will be important later.
He offered a free dinner the next day. What kind of person would I be to say no? Besides, it would be an opportunity to get a taste of him…or not. He came with reinforcements.
When we got to his place, I remembered very quickly that social media is a façade. He’s being shown to wear designer, go country to country and yet, he lived in a room that reminded me of the council place my granddad got after his umpteenth divorce. He apologised for the mess. I told him there was nothing to apologise for. His room’s vanity and even his curtains were somewhat nostalgic to me. They reminded me of East Ham and the smell of my grandmother’s carpets. I could tell, from the smell, that he eats in his room frequently. I have a strong sense of smell. He asked to watch Batman (2022) with me. I accepted. After idle conversation, I told him that I had come to give him a taste. He accepted. I was sick. The process of this was tiring and I quickly found that he did not know what he was doing and had the confidence of someone who pretended to. At moments, I had to close my eyes and think back to my favourite specimens in order to weave my way around his tongue. I had no interest in picking apart his brain. He was left (mostly) all in one piece and asked if I could do anything for him. I told him no and continued to watch Batman. I stayed at his because it was cold and his room had a heater, but I found myself feeling like Judas in his arms. The next day, he got me food and tried to give me a hug to leave. I reached for a handshake. At least I know work won’t be calling me about misconduct anytime soon. But someone else called me.
FOE’s Friend.
When he called, I was slightly surprised. I knew he would probably be contacting me, it was just a matter of when. He asked me what I was doing for Valentines day. I laughed when I saw it. I told him my day was free. He said if it was free, would I mind spending it with him? I told him honestly to just plan the day and I’d get back to him with an answer. Each person mentioned here was willing to do something for me on the holiday I am writing on. It was just a matter of whether they would annoy me or disinterest me. I decided to play on this guy’s luck. I did a quick warning that my phone was on DND and ended up being the reason for his stupid nickname for me…Mrs DND Warrior. A nickname is safe to consume between true friends and when it has been safely implemented over time. This nickname became my name, in his eyes. Mrs DND…Mrs DND…never Halle. It annoyed me, but I do love an outing before a meal. He asked to call, I told him I was busy. He said ‘busy talking to me, you mean’…no. I didn’t respond to his request to call him after until a few hours later. When we called, I got a sense of how ugly the person I was talking to. It was like opening up meat only to find flies and larvae had beaten you to your meal. When consuming, I do not like to have the scum of the earth. I desire a certain purity. This man was not only shallow, but admitted himself to be a chameleon of sorts. Every ‘no’ was a challenge and every ‘yes’ was an affirmation. He tried his best to twist all results to yes. When he asked me why I liked him, I was silent for a minute. I finally answered ‘you know how to play your cards right’. He had intentionally made his friend look a fool to try and better his chances. Of course, when he messaged the next day trying to make me feel guilty for not saying goodnight or good morning to him, his luck ran out. He was blocked everywhere and I found myself victimless for the special day.
This man was not only shallow, but admitted himself to be a chameleon of sorts. Every ‘no’ was a challenge and every ‘yes’ was an affirmation. He tried his best to twist all results to yes.
Later that day, I was with my tutorial teacher and she asked me my plans after university. I told her that I planned to finish writing and publish a story I had been working on. A cannibal story. I had stopped writing it because I felt I needed to up my experience before I continued. She laughed and asked if she should be worried. I smiled. There is nothing more romantic and more passionate than consumption.
Happy Valentines,
Halle x