Church of Mum and Dad

Here we have a little bit of symbolism and metaphor to accompany my usual exhibition of smut and sadism. the cowboy rider, if a little diminutive, is myself, riding Brigitte away, trying desperately to put as much distance as possible between us and her parents. I don’t recall consciously doing this, but as overzealous and heavily involved with our relationship as they were, a relationship I stress, between a grown woman in her mid twenties, and her partner in his late twenties, I was quite possibly guilty of this on a subconscious level. I have nothing against Inlaws personally but I think my motivation for this was due in no small part to the Father’s unflinching disaproval of me right from day one, followed eventually by the Mother learning of my reluctance to create a family and provide her with cretinous little anglo-franco grandchildren, It wasn’t long before I started to fall out of favour with her as well. Either way it didn’t work, you can’t come between a girl and her parents, Mother always knows best.

Brigitte is handcuffed, to imply that she would never willingly stray too far from Maman et Papa, and the plastic bag over her head is sufocating her, the literal depiction of which is reference to a more psychological sense of suffocation she would almost certainly have endured had she stayed with me, with regards to her biological oath of bearing and raising children not being fullfilled. My cowboy outfit refers to the idea that in any trade, if you’re accused of being a cowboy, it means you don’t really know what you’re doing, and in the ‘trade’ of being Brigitte’s boyfriend, I very much didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I’ve also used scale to convey a few thoughts, my pathological fear of reproduction, a self replicate to be more precise, a smaller version of me running around is a horrifying thought. My egotism and self loathing mean I’m a very small, narrow minded person, bitter, resentful, all of which reinforced by the image you see before you. And why am I gazing out at you the viewer ? Who knows, a cry for help perhaps.

The sun is setting, calling time on my relationship with Brigitte, as nightfall approaches my grip on her will loosen and I will fall off and be forever lost in the baron scrublands of life after companionship. Brigitte will return to the sanctuary of Mother and Father, lick her wounds and the dawning of a new day will bring a new love (or a first love, still undecided as to whether her infatuation with me was anything other than “puppy love”).

And to be honest I should probably call time on all of this nonsense, I’m just wasting even more time on her since we seperated, three years ago. I doubt she gives me this kind of lip service, she forgot me a long time ago, there have been many sunsets and sunrises in that time. Maybe with that in mind, this post would be a good point at which to bring all of this to some kind of conclusion, well……..we’ll see, I’ve said that before !

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