Your protagonist developed a nasty habit, what is it and why has it happened?
My friend Enid has a whole in her heart. Her daddy left her at five because of the booze and freedom it allowed him…… to escape from his overactive mind, the drink was a solace he found numbingly beautiful, like a Jeanie in a bottle. Hindsight figures overly smart types are lacking in common sense and folks with overly high IQ’s tend to be haunted by their overly thinking minds, escape is not optional but essential. The Most widely accepted fix to this terrible affliction, is the easiest and most romanticized drug in the world, alcohol. What comes next is after drugs is usually sex and in due time comes parenthood. The hardest job there is. It just mirrors back the possibility that you have shared those fucked up genes, all of the bad ones, and you will have to cater to two of you- furthermore validating your craziness. What a ball and chain a cute little giggly, toe-haired child can be; running about the house pleading for love and attention through the strong familiar, desire to be naughty or perhaps driven mischievously to scatter cheerios all over the house just to see how full the box really is?
Enid never did recover from the confusion of why he left and didn’t come back. One day he was making her scrambled eggs and playing his guitar for her, and the next he was absent from the household, just gone like the baby Elephant at the zoo. Today she hates scrambled eggs and guitar music makes her cry almost as sure as a Pepsi makes her burp.
Enid channeled the inner storm of her childhood dismay like a wrecking ball takes to a 100 year old building, leaving with it the dust cloud of debris.
In her twenties she was a whirlwind of recklessness, dropping LSD, taking hallucinogenic mushrooms finding her way into a man’s heart via his bedroom or backstage, or the back of his car, craving his affections as if it were fine chocolate-a desire, a need that no one could possibly satiate for her. She had an unreasonable request to be the focus of all attention and intentions. She soon learned to be the people pleaser as if every win was a knock down, a gold belt win enough to bring her daddy back. She did everything to be pretty, cause people like you when your pretty. She tended to her white blonde locks with obsessive brushing to bring out the shine. She became cat-like in the way she strutted around silky and demure and luring men in to play with her like she were a kitten and a man, her ball of string. There was no limit to the number of men she could have, she was a beauty. She had delicate fingers, long shapely legs with perfect thin ankles, and when etched with a dangerous shade of red, her full lips became only second to her best feature, her hips. In the quiet of her mind, she played a game with herself she called “I want him, I shall have him.” Quietly from across the bar, or the beach, or the classroom, or paused at a crosswalk, she would summon a male companion with the same lure that allows her to guess what your thinking- the powerful, childlike longing of her broken soul. She would punish each and every one by sucking them in like a vampiress, with her masterful prowess. Then she’d discard them as if they were silvery Pinks in the ocean’s icy waters, too small to keep. As the number grew higher the gaping hole grew bigger and the tears she held in could have filled the Red sea. She stomped them out like a high heeled pump distinguishes a lit cigarette, grounding it into the ground. Then Enid wondered why she felt so alone.