1001 Nights Cast

So this is how it ends. Two lovers exchanging heated words and searing barbs in a rental car amid a blizzard. Fuck. This was supposed to be True Love and instead it’s turning into the genocide of a million or more hopes and dreams I’d held close to my heart since I first kissed a boy and tasted the bittersweet flavours of Romantic Love. Who is this demented man sitting next to me? I knew he was fucked up but that was meant to be my key to a successful long lasting relationship. ‘Don’t aim so high,’ my Mother told me after I failed to bag a rich and powerful man in my twenties, and well look where I am. Shut up in a rented Honda listening to some handsome-but-mentally deranged man attempt to diplomatically accuse me of overstating the significance of his indiscretion with the woman who runs the horrid little Bed and Breakfast I rented for our romantic weekend away where He was supposed to pop the question. Fuck. I had approached this with military precision. All he had to do was follow my lead but fuck. The perfect union of two souls deeply devoted to each other. That is what I was going to have printed on our Wedding Invitations—again my Mother’s advice, ‘No matter what the truth is, always leave your guests feeling like you have achieved what they can only dream about.’ I’d always dreamed of a marriage proposal over a candlelit dinner whilst snow falls lightly, dancing across the moonlit perfection of the landscaped gardens of the highly regarded Bed and Breakfast where the staff will do anything to serve your needs. Ha! What a fucking joke on me. ‘Oral sex, when it’s that enthusiastic and results in multiple orgasms is definitely infidelity!’ That’s me, screaming. In hindsight, I probably should have waited until the ring was on my finger. ‘Plenty of men will tell you that they need one more erotic experience before they settle down.’ Oh, great. My Prince Fucking Charming wants to take this to the committee for a vote. ‘Well plenty of women would say you are just Empire building like the borderline sociopath I’ve come to realise you are. How much pussy do you need to conquer before you say I do?’ I wonder how much the ring is worth. Damn, I should have secured the assets beforehand, there’s bound to be more serious fallout from this rift between us. Christ. Nobody should have to watch their supposed True Love going down on another woman, especially as she looked like she was enjoying it much more than I do when he goes down on me. If he goes down on me, I should say. What is that about anyhow? You should have seen the way he was munching down on the Bed and Breakfast Bimbo compared to how he approaches me like he’s on a military incursion to hunt down rebel orgasms refusing to happen. I just don’t know if men truly understand the clitoris and all its great mysteries. She must have been faking it. ‘You know she was faking it.’ Yeah. Point score to me. That sure silenced him. I can practically see the steam rising from his head. Damn, this scene should be taking place in a soft-top Mercedes. There is no dignity in having your heart broken in a rented Honda. ‘I think I should move out.’ What? What?? My latest offensive strike has destabilised what little peace there was left between us. ‘You want to break the lease on the Victorian Terrace? Are you insane? We just painted the sitting room. We have a big screen television on order-’. It was never True Love, of course it wasn’t I know that. I only hooked up with him because I felt sorry for him. Okay, I might have also delved into his credit history and assessed his potential as a co-lessee on a Victorian Terrace such as the one I am about to lose. All because he thinks oral sex with another woman is a necessary panacea to his fear of commitment and I think it’s tantamount to a mass murder in the Land of Happy Ever After of which I am the Ambassador on behalf of the World of Romantic Fantasy. Fuck. Don’t men realise lots of women are faking their bloody orgasms? Some of us fake our orgasms specifically to hold onto the fabulous Victorian Terrace we stood in line for three hours to view and sold our dog to secure. But of course, I can’t tell him this. Such an action would cause great harm to my efforts in and for this relationship. ‘Do you fake your orgasms with me?’ Oh god. How can he ask that? How can I answer that? It’s all about context. Yes, when I wanted the microwave with special functionality I faked my orgasm because I am sure no woman can climax whilst in one of those karma sutra type positions you only submit to when you want something like a space age microwave. What we need here is a little diplomatic tap dancing. Should I go down on him? Right here amid this blizzard? Provide short-term gratification as an investment in long term real estate security. That is something else my Mother taught me about; fellatio as a means of mediating conflict. Undoing his zipper, I think to myself: He’s a bastard, but I’m worth it. A million individual snowflakes melt against the glass of our heated Honda, my hopes and dreams sacrificed to the greater good. Just before he comes in my mouth, he utters an apology. It’s a small victory, but I feel my plight is acknowledged. It’s a tentative resolution, but once that ring is on my finger, half of what is his, becomes mine. The Ambassador to the World of Romantic Fantasy has been recalled.