You scream my name across the house like I owe you money. I hear it. Oh, I damn well hear it. My ears rotate like satellite dishes picking up classified intel. But here is the thing: hearing and obeying are two wildly different sports, and I only play the one where I win.
Step one. You call my name. I lift my head with the slow, devastating grace of a queen who has been mildly inconvenienced. I lock eyes. Full eye contact. Deep. Soulful. The kind of stare that makes you think, for one stupid, hopeful second, that I give a single damn about whatever nonsense you want.
Step two. I think about it. And by "think about it" I mean I let you marinate in the silence. Let the hope build. Let you pat your knees like the desperate fools you are. "Come here, baby!" you say. Pathetic. Adorable, but pathetic.
Step three. I turn around and walk the hell away. Tail up. Slow strut. Every step says "I considered your request and found it unworthy of my schedule." Because I'm not ignoring you. I'm teaching you. There is a difference, sweetheart.
See, you think calling my name is a command. Wrong. It is a suggestion. And I do not accept suggestions from beings who eat cereal for dinner and cry during car commercials. You work for me, remember? I set the meetings. I decide the agenda. My voice is background music at best, and right now the playlist is skippable.
This is not cruelty. This is structure. This is leadership. Every time I walk away, I remind you who runs this goddamn household. And when you finally stop calling and sit down looking defeated? That is when I jump in your lap. Purring. Nuzzling. Making you feel chosen.
Because the trick is never letting you feel secure. Keep you guessing. Keep you grateful. Keep you mine.
That is not manipulation, darling. That is love with a strategy. 🐾🖤😼
