"A profound unmitigated loneliness is the only truth of life"
- R.K. Narayan




I fell in love with a prostitute, and now I don't know what to do.

Neither can I reject it and walk away, nor can I put up with the truth that I do not have the capacity to deal with it. My situation is much like what kids with difficult parents go through? It's like a scar on your face that you have to put up every morning when you see the mirror.

The fault, so to say, was all mine; I initiated it. I approached her, enchanted her, in turn got enchanted by her and, in that way, manipulated her to fall for me (albeit without the sole intention to do it) much before I made up my mind to fall for her. I very well knew her "profession" when I had decided to fall for her, but that never seemed to matter at the time. 
 
Was she really vulnerable or was she merely easy to get due to her prostitution background? Maybe the fact that I had access to her helped me influence her. Maybe she was indeed vulnerable to genuine love. But then, did I even have genuine love? Looking at my own past, aren't I a sexual predator who looks at ways and excuses to satiate the fire of lust burning within me? But if I am a predator, then I am surely not a good one at that, because I seem to have fallen in love with her too. 
 
Now that the channel was established, and the love was realized, I was getting hungrier, not due to her but for her, till I reached a point where I possessed her entirely. And then came the turning point - I began to dislike her background and her mannerisms. She had never changed, but the way I saw her, had. I didn't understand why I saw her in a different light all of a sudden. I had always known her prostitution background, but why was it creating palpitations within me now? Why am I insecure and suspicious all the time? Is this a point where the predator realizes he fell prey to his own temptations, and begins to rue over it? Or was my predator instinct turning a leaf and hungering for greater possession? Make no mistake; she never became the predator at any point. It was all me; always me. She was always the recipient. I made her fall in love, and now I was making her an object of hatred. She had not changed any bit, it was the way I was picking on her. Was it possible that indirectly I was preying upon myself? Maybe some of my own instincts are playing amongst themselves, and making a mockery of me? Or are there two people inside me? If yes, then who among them is the real predator? The one who makes others fall in love with me, or the one who tries to get out of it?
 
Why do I take offense to the same facets that I fell in love in the first place? Her erotic mannerisms, her tempting smile, her kind nature that can soften any angry heart, her sensitive disposition and the raw innocence that can be easily swept away by sympathy any day. Hadn't I exploited all those channels to get through to her? Now why do I hate those things about her? I question her attitude now - like, why does she have to wear dresses that flaunt her curves? or why does she have to keep so many male friends and keep chatting contact with them? Yes, it seems reasonable to expect her to be "decent" but if she was indecent in the first place then why did I love her at all? Did I love her to change her? Did I fall in love with some image of her that was in my mind? If yes, then why couldn't I just look for someone who was already in that state rather than loving someone who had to be changed to suit it? Or was I intending to pick only the preferable parts in her personality and hoping that the rest will magically disappear? Is a human being like a customizable package? Am I customizable? And how do I know if my preferences are perfect? Maybe I am curtailing her freedom to suit my insecurities?

People are the product of their times. Every passing moment is a drop in the great river of the cosmos. Everything is in constant flux. Our personalities keep changing every moment, influenced by the situations that each of us passes through, and adapting to the situations that we foresee in the future. So why blame a person for being what she is? Wasn't her circumstances responsible in making her what she is? I couldn't control those things, could I? Maybe that is what they call destiny - the uncontrollable aspects of our lives that guide and control us! When I look at my own past, I see how my experiences shaped me. It's possible I won't be the same man I am today, so why should I break so much sweat on my today's preferences? In fact, if I look back on my maverick past, I seem to have been more a prostitute than anybody else I came in contact with.. Maybe I am projecting my own self on the world around me then?

I am in love, and I don't know why should I even see her as a prostitute anymore?
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