Persons of any level of inteligence are vulnerable to deception by experienced con artists. Anyone can be blinded by a charming stranger, who is relying on your honesty, compassion or even a naive expectation of good faith on their part.
They say you can't cheat an honest man, how about a trusting idiot? It's not like I hadn't ever been lied to before. Nothing further from the truth, pun intended. Every woman I had ever gotten involved with -or tried or wished for- had told me nothing but a load after load of bullshit. Why, you ask? Because I'm that gullible, of course. And I have always had a thing for malignant narcissists.
I first saw her rushing by under a thin rain, in her black dressy pants and a man's cut blue shirt. She was carrying an old greenish backpack over one shoulder, unaware of her surroundings. I guessed Korean descent, which she would later correct me on. If only I thought I could believe anything she said to me, I would still believe her heritage to be Chinese. Now, I simply don't prentend or care to really know a single true fact about her.
Hadn't it been for her sudden need of pushing a flock of her wet hair aside, our eyes would have never met. My gaze traveled to her half unbuttoned shirt, which was revealing part of a yakuza-like tattoo on her upper chest that promised to be of considerable dimensions. I could see her suspiciously self-satisfied smile from the corner of my eye, but I chose to mistake it for something else.
Looking back, emptied-out bank accounts aside, I needed that. That'll teach me to believe the best in pretty girls.
They say you can't cheat an honest man, how about a trusting idiot? It's not like I hadn't ever been lied to before. Nothing further from the truth, pun intended. Every woman I had ever gotten involved with -or tried or wished for- had told me nothing but a load after load of bullshit. Why, you ask? Because I'm that gullible, of course. And I have always had a thing for malignant narcissists.
I first saw her rushing by under a thin rain, in her black dressy pants and a man's cut blue shirt. She was carrying an old greenish backpack over one shoulder, unaware of her surroundings. I guessed Korean descent, which she would later correct me on. If only I thought I could believe anything she said to me, I would still believe her heritage to be Chinese. Now, I simply don't prentend or care to really know a single true fact about her.
Hadn't it been for her sudden need of pushing a flock of her wet hair aside, our eyes would have never met. My gaze traveled to her half unbuttoned shirt, which was revealing part of a yakuza-like tattoo on her upper chest that promised to be of considerable dimensions. I could see her suspiciously self-satisfied smile from the corner of my eye, but I chose to mistake it for something else.
Looking back, emptied-out bank accounts aside, I needed that. That'll teach me to believe the best in pretty girls.
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