Sun Tze in Love

Love is war.

That's why there's that saying. Because they're the same damned thing. You don your armor, you plan your battle strategies, you determine your enemy's weaknesses, you try your damndest to bring the battle to geography which is favorable to you, and if you have allies, you deploy them to the best of your advantage, to outflank, outwit and defeat the enemy.

The only difference between love and war is that the former is usually fought by the fairer sex, and the latter, by the men. The men, like the ads say, just don't get it. They're out of their league. They can't play the game because they're oblivious of the war games that are being fought at a level which is practically subliminal. The war of emotions tends to be a subtle, deeply nuanced series of acts which proceeds more like an art form than a battle, but make no mistake, the intricacies of the engagement may be subtler and seemingly less brutal (no one dies, no one gets napalmed), but it's more vicious and bloody than any pointless battle to reclaim a hill which no one will give a damn about in ten years time.

The armor was a silk/satin champagne dress cut on the bias with a décolletage that tangoed close to the line between sensual and whore, with a multi-strand gold-and-amber choker and an umber shawl, paired with killer lace-up chocolate satin fuck-me heels (which had to be retied a million times, but hey, The Boy kneeling at my feet? Not a bad thing). Battle paint was smoky eyes, blusher, a barely-there lip stain, more mascara can you could shake an eyelash brush at, sleek hair and cinnamon-and-vanilla scented shimmer cream on any exposed skin.

"The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."

I did not stick a salad fork into anyone. I did not set anyone's hair on fire. I did not cram cranberry-scented candles up anyone's ass. I did not whisper damning confirmations in anyone's ear. I did not pour alcohol on anyone's clothes and set them alight. I smiled and said, you look beautiful, with the biggest, nicest smile I could muster up. And I meant it.

Then I smoked three Djarums. And much later, lay in the dark while my confessor laughed.

And I cannot sleep tonight. Because some things just don't lie down and die.