I know what you're all thinking.
You're thinking "Isn't that just a turn of phrase?"
And now you're thinking "Holy Shit! Maybe he is using alien technology to read our minds!"
It's true: I am using alien technology.
See, the aliens landed and I sold you out. All of you.
In return I get to keep five of you as my personal slaves.
Don't worry. You can't escape.
It's funny; this desire to possess someone, and be possessed by them in return.
The UK author Jeanette Winterson wrote that men can never truly love because love is a destructive force, and men are too insecure to allow themselves to be destroyed.
Of course, she's a lesbian, so what would she know?
Probably how to truly pleasure a woman...
But, it's not true! We men regularly destroy ourselves with what we love: alcohol and drugs.
We don't actually love women.
We're very fond of parts of them, sure, but to really love something - to really love it - you have to understand it.
And women are unfathomable.
But I think that's kinda the whole point.
Women are like a desert: that stark, overwhelming beauty. The shimmering horizon. The boundless sky. No sound but the wind rattling sand grains against the dry grass.
And women are also like a beach. A graceful curve of sand, caressed and lulled into calmness by the unending sea. And then when you look at what makes up a beach; at the grains of sand, you will discover that a good many of them are tiny, tiny shells. Perfect miniatures of purest white.
You can't possibly fit it all in you head - boundless sky, timeless horizon, unending sea, tiny shells. It's all too much!
But that's what a woman is.
Obviously, I'm not referring to the random tipsy slags down the pub. I'm talking about a woman I want to possess and have her possess me. Not necessarily for ever, but for a little while at least, y'know?
Of course, it's be pretty cool to drag a fired up young lass into the supply cupboard and tear off just enough clothing: ruck up her skirt, and hitch down my trousers, as we pantingly claw at each other. Nothing wrong with that.
I have never done this, of course. That's mostly due to my irrational fear of massed stationery.
...but, women. Ultimately unknowable. I don't want a tame one.
I want to wake up in the morning, open my eyes to see her give me a sleepy smile through a veil of her hair, and have absolutely no idea what she was thinking.
And you know what I'd do then?