***Some of you might remember the old story of the Scorpion and the Frog. For those of you who don't, a refresher below.***
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One day, a scorpion looked around at the mountain where he lived and decided that he wanted a change. So he set out on a journey through the forests and hills. He climbed over rocks and under vines and kept going until he reached a river.
The river was wide and swift, and the scorpion stopped to reconsider the situation. He couldn't see any way across. So he ran upriver and then checked downriver, all the while thinking that he might have to turn back.
Suddenly, he saw a frog sitting in the rushes by the bank of the stream on the other side of the river. He decided to ask the frog for help getting across the stream.
"Hellooo Mr. Frog!" called the scorpion across the water, "Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the river?"
"Well now, Mr. Scorpion! How do I know that if I try to help you, you won't try to kill me?" asked the frog hesitantly.
"Because," the scorpion replied, "If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!"
Now this seemed to make sense to the frog. But he asked. "What about when I get close to the bank? You could still try to kill me and get back to the shore!"
"This is true," agreed the scorpion, "But then I wouldn't be able to get to the other side of the river!"
"Alright then...how do I know you won't just wait till we get to the other side and THEN kill me?" said the frog.
"Ahh...," crooned the scorpion, "Because you see, once you've taken me to the other side of this river, I will be so grateful for your help, that it would hardly be fair to reward you with death, now would it?!"
So the frog agreed to take the scorpion across the river. He swam over to the bank and settled himself near the mud to pick up his passenger. The scorpion crawled onto the frog's back, his sharp claws prickling into the frog's soft hide, and the frog slid into the river. The muddy water swirled around them, but the frog stayed near the surface so the scorpion would not drown. He kicked strongly through the first half of the stream, his flippers paddling wildly against the current.
Halfway across the river, the frog suddenly felt a sharp sting in his back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the scorpion remove his stinger from the frog's back. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs.
"You fool!" croaked the frog, "Now we shall both die! Why on earth did you do that?"
The scorpion shrugged, and did a little jig on the drownings frog's back.
"I could not help myself. It is my nature."
Then they both sank into the muddy waters of the swiftly flowing river.
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I remember this fable from when I was a child. I remember thinking, that was one stupid frog, what could it have been thinking! Obviously the frog was going to end up dead in the water. Literally. I mean duh. Anyone with half a brain could see that the scorpion was just using the frog.
But that was before I grew up to become a Main Street Glamour Girl. Now I know what that frog's problem was, and I have a lot more sympathy for her.
Sex.
Sex was that frog's problem. Really good sex, and emotional manipulation at the highest level. In today's urban parlance, it's called getting played.
I think the story may have gone something like this.
The frog had a fling with the scorpion back in the day. First, the scorpion charmed her and made her feel like the center of his world, and that he would be lost without her. He also convinced the frog that what they had was so precious, it should be their little secret. The frog reluctantly agreed. After all, the scorpion was smart, and charming, and attentive, and the frog had been alone for a very long time. So long that the frog began to wonder what was wrong with her, began to doubt that anyone would ever love her, meaty legs and all. And so the frog fell under the scorpion's spell, even becoming convinced that maybe she shouldn't be so open with people about her happiness, that maybe the scorpion was right, that she talked too much about her personal life, and that maybe she should be more private, especially where the scorpion was concerned.
Once she was good and hooked, he lied to her, over and over, and used her for personal gain, and broke her heart. All of the other frogs were baffled and worried. They all liked the frog, for she was good-hearted and kind, and thought she could do better than this scorpion who made her so unhappy and so unsure of her own worth. After all, most people would have run away from the scorpion, and turned a deaf ear to his lame, if occasionally creative, excuses for his assorted misdeeds. And this particular frog was a no-bullshit kind of frog, not usually so easily manipulated. But the frog, under the powerful spell of the scorpion, was habitually forgiving. A better phrase might be pathologically forgiving. A doormat, if you will. She desperately wanted to believe that the scorpion was misguided rather than malicious, and that if she gave it enough time, that things would get better. The scorpion would right himself and then it wouldn't sting so badly anymore.
Not that the frog didn't stand up for herself occasionally.
She told him to get lost, more than once, but never completely cut the stinger out of her back.
So she moved far far away and had the time of her life. She had such the time of her life, and felt so strong, and so powerful, she thought she could handle a little bit of scorpion back in her life. Because the scorpion was charming, exciting, and just a little bit dangerous, not to mention forbidden. He also made her feel oh so needed, and pretty, and wanted, and a little bit less lonely when she moved yet again to a new river valley to take a high-pressured job at a well-respected lilypad factory. He promised that he had turned over a new leaf, that he would never hurt her again, that his world would be a better place if she were in it, and most importantly, that things would be different this time.
And, unfortunately for the frog, he was very convincing, eroding all of the healthy skepticism that the frog had spent many months building in anticipation of an encounter just like this one. Much to the dismay of her frog girlfriends, who had spent months counseling against this very thing. But the frog was insecure about her prospects of finding an appropriate frog to play with, much more insecure than she let on, and the validation of his attention was just too tempting to resist. Especially after 3 margaritas and a six-pack of beer.
But most importantly, she thought she could ignore the bad, take the good, and just have a casual fling with the scorpion until she was ready to move on. This time, thought the frog, SHE would be in control, NOT him. And that would somehow make all the difference.
For a time, it was wonderful. The scorpion was behaving toward her just the way she had always hoped. And the frog, being the forgiving being she is, found it so much easier to just decide that everyone deserved a clean slate and a second (or 500th) chance. The frog was wary but in the brief moments where she wasn't paying vigilant attention, slowly falling under the scorpion's spell once again. It was just like before, but different. Better. The scorpion took her to dinner (where, unlike before, he paid like a gentle-scorpion), introduced her to his friends, they watched football, he complimented her constantly.
But the cracks were always underneath the surface.
Mysterious phone calls late at night.
Sleepovers several nights in a row, followed by a week of little to no contact. Defensiveness when questioned about where he might have been putting his stinger. Because, casual or no, our frog tries to be a mature, responsible frog. And the scorpion had promised to be scrupulously honest. From now on, forevermore.
In response, the scorpion asked lots of questions about the frog's whereabouts, including whether she was doing anything of note with frog princes, but volunteered little information about his own activities.
The scorpion also badgered the frog about whether she loved the scorpion, as if a few weeks of charm would be more than enough to erase all of the bad memories that had killed everything but her physical attraction. In an unguarded moment, he claimed to love her, although he quickly covered with an inappropriate joke. The frog, refusing to engage, ignored all emotional entreaties.
This seemed to throw the scorpion. After all, head games had always worked with our fair frog before. If he screwed up, or screwed her over again, no reason to think she wouldn't give him still another chance.
Because he is a scorpion.
It's not malicious.
But it is his nature.
He will never change.
But he will kill you.
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That is, if you are not smart enough to recognize his pattern, and his stinger, and run like hell in the other direction. Which, hopefully, our frog is. Or will be, very soon.
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And that, my friends, is the slightly less-well known fable of Flirty and Mr. Mindfuck.
Epilogue to be announced.
