The locals, they call me a collector of hearts, thats how youll hear them refer to me. Springs up a pretty little image of a playboy, a man wholl use and discard women at the drop of a hat doesnt it? Shame my physical presence doesnt do anything to support this, but dont just disregard the things youve heard, because you really have no idea.
People flit in and out of this town as frequently as the weather here changes. Nobody ever stays for very long, save for us locals that is. Maybe theyve heard what we never did, that once you settle here youre there for life. No matter how determined you may seem you just wont be able to tear yourself away from our peaceful lifestyle, it has a way of sucking you in. A lot of the older residents couldnt even care less what happens in the world outside of our insular little town. So if you want to keep some shred of your old life in tact, then make your visit a flying one. Stay a day or two at the most, enjoy our laid back, sleepy little town for what appearances make it and then move along.
Trust me, you really dont want to linger for too long.
I always pick the new ones. The ones that stay for about a week, a few sandwiches short of a picnic and desperate for attention. They come to tan on our deserted beaches, frying their little brains in the sun as if the peroxide hadnt burnt away enough of them already. They all look like perfect little Barbie dolls stretched out on their multicoloured beach towels, the epitome of media perfection, hardly a stitch of the person they used to be left visible on their skin.
They know that Ill adore them from the instant they see me coming, how could I not when they look so perfectly divine? Their interest in my attention is almost teasing to begin with, a man like me could never really have a girl like that, but if I proffer them my money for food, wine and clothes theyll entertain my affections. After all theyre only on holiday, what harm can there be in a little fun with material benefits.
If only they knew the real secrets our quiet little town holds. Theyll learn of course, they all do. But by then its always far too late.
They feel so bold, so sadistically proud to be playing this poor, foolish man for everything hes got. Frittering away his hard earned cash on pettiness, leading him on with never the intention to give him what you think he really desires.
Take every opportunity to flaunt it in my face, play the perfect tease. Does it make you feel powerful my love? Well enjoy the feeling while it lasts.
After years of practice I can play the used man down to a tea and I know there will come a point where you just wont be able to refuse me any more. The key is simply timing and on the last day of your holiday I just know that you wont refuse my offer of dinner. Ill cook this time, no more restaurants for us, an intimate little setting in which to say goodbye. I know that youll accept, whats a free meal and drinks? Worth it even if it does mean being alone in my company for a night.
Ill begin with a faltering attempt at seduction, every clichéd line in the book. Dont question my skills, I know exactly what it is Im doing. But youll listen with a polite grimace, accept my food and greedily lap up my wine. Do you even taste that its a Micky Finn?
Its not long before the drugs begin to tug at your eyelids, though I can barely comprehend a difference in your dreamy, air headed speech. The fork falls from your hand, clatters against the plate and falls to the floor, a chunk of steak still impaled upon its prongs. You got grease on my carpet.
Ill frown at the oily, yellow stain as you slump back in your chair, heavy lidded eyes almost completely closed and your mouth finally halted in its spewing of incessant drivel to loll open a gormless on your once so pretty face. The drugs never make them look pretty, always like plastic dolls left too close to an open flame, melted and sagging. If only you could see yourself now.
Youll repay me now for everything you cost me, for the food, the wine and the clothes. For the stain on my carpet that no amount of cleaning will ever remove. Guess its time for a change again, Ill say, the words almost a sigh. Can you hear me over the blood rushing in your ears? Watch me as I go over to the dresser and slide open one of the drawers? White is probably the worst choice of colour and yet I just cant bring myself to have anything different.
No reaction to my words, but then was I really expecting there to be? Still, as its already stained well not worry about the mess. Ill hiss, gripping your straw like hair and tipping your eyes back to look at me. See the flash of silver as I toy with the blade? There is some glimmer of fear sparkling in the depths of your baby blues, do we understand now?
A lesson learned all too late, play with peoples hearts and it wont be long before someone will play with yours. They call me the collector of hearts for that is my passion, and now its is yours that I shall take.
I am this towns dirty little secret, the one that youll die to keep.'