Duality- A (self-published) Novel

This is the story of Marcus Minotti, s law undergrad looking to become one of New York’s District Attorneys. Something happened to Marcus at a young age, an incident he’s since repressed. Marcus is a rape victim. The repression of the repeated incident has caused an alternate personality to be created.

If that weren’t enough, the alternate personality is a statutory rapist. Marcus questions the blackouts but never the source, not until the alternate personality reaches out. Only then can Marcus uncover how it was created, and how to rid himself of it.

You can buy my book here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/dexter-valentino/duality/paperback/product-23210372.html


Chosen- A Short Story

She’s breathtaking. Her flowing hair, and how it always hides her striking features. The way the cuff of her sleeves hang making her hands barely visible as it brushes through those long locks.

Her laugh is wholesome. Not in a “good girl” sort of way, but rather as someone who’s photogenic at every angle and must be captured. An Angel. Real life princess.
But, no matter how much you want her, she’s unattainable. “Don’t say that, I’m sure she’ll give you a chance.” No. I’ll have my shot but it ends up looking, from the outside, like pity; faux, unintentional illusion. They will all- meaning every woman who looks like her, and the thousands in this category- find someone in the male equivalent category. Those are the only ones who will get chosen. And despite claims of not caring for appearances, it always seems to be the deciding factor. Same goes with the men in the equivalent category.
All the women in this category, all the men in theirs, look like every couple in the “always be chose” lineup. I don’t even need to describe them. You know who I’m talking about without having to really say much.
A lot of us are never going to get chose. We’re great people. But it’s not in the cards for us. One of those infinite loops for all time. “I’m attracted to you, but…” loop. And even when you find someone who will also never get chose, each cancel itself out. The “never get chose by someone who will also never get chose” category, somehow, is an even longer list than the “never get chose” one.

Drabble #95

@RebelScum: Not to go full SJW but, while all the recent hoopla over the “romphim” was hilarious…

@RebelScum: Sexual objectification is all fun and games when it comes to men, but a nation-wide crisis when applied to women

@RebelScum: That’s not to say men weren’t participants in this, but it always seems to be “just jokes” if it’s at the expense of men.

@RebelScum: If you aren’t new to social media you’ve by now seen “sweatpants season *insert Meat Vision meme*” & the like

@RebelScum: Mind you, these jokes are *also* coming from the very side trying to end sexual objectification. But, I guess it’s only against women

@RebelScum: Here’s another example- women saying “get in my guts” or “lemme feel you in my throat” is okay to say to men…

@RebelScum: but a man saying “lemme eat the booty one time” to women is blasphemous.

@RebelScum: Men don’t vilify women for saying this because we know you, like us, think like this.

@RebelScum: Give *one* example where it’s okay to do any of this. Btw, any use of “the patriarchy” is cancelled when it’s women benefitting from the jokes, not men.

@RebelScum: Go ahead & argue the jokes are satirical. To prove it happens to women, isn’t the same tactic used? Argument invalid.

@RebelScum: What it comes down to is “you had your fun objectifying us, now it’s our turn.” Even when it’s not men’s faults it somehow still is.

@RebelScum: Don’t fight injustice on one front when it’s happening on *all*, esp if the narrative applies.

@RebelScum: Also, don’t minimize your argument by backpedaling to hide behind feminism when, according to y’all, it’s for women *and* men

Client 8: Unknown

“Hi there.”
“Hi Daddy.”
*Chuckles* “I’m actually not calling for that. This is a cheaper form of therapy. I would like your opinion on something, if you can take a step back from your character for a minute.”
“Depends what the question is.”
“Do you think men benefit more, or less, from being raised around a lot of women?”
“Hmm… That’s an interesting question. May I ask where this is coming from?”
“My entire dating experience.”
“And how would you describe it?”
“Well, let me kind of go back to the beginning. I’ll keep it as brief as possible. I grew up in the 90’s. Girl power and all that from the Spice Girls, TLC, etc. I was also just around women all the time. I figured, who better to know what they like and learn from- absorb the info, you know?”
“Makes sense. I don’t see any issue so far.”
“This translated into my becoming more emotionally aware which, again, sounds great, but it hasn’t been.”
“Why’s that?”
“I keep meeting women who seem to hate it rather than it benefiting. You hear the narrative so often you start believing it, becoming it.”
“And it’s been the exact opposite.”
“Yes. I’m in my 30’s, do you think there’s time to change, or because there wasn’t an equal amount of male influence in my life that it’s a lost cause?”
“I think there’s still time. You’re not old, but you’re also not quite young either. If you’re wondering if you can just erase everything you’ve learned, I’ll say no. But it might be best to just…I don’t know, ease up? If that makes sense?”
“Be less of who I am and become partly something I’m not?”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“But how do I do that?”
“You might actually need a professional to give advice on that. Unfortunately this is where I’ll have to drop my expertise, or lack thereof.”
“I think this was helpful enough. Thank you…What was your name?”
“Candy Cane.”
*Chuckles* “That’s a perfect character name. May I use it?”
“Are you a writer?”
“God I hope so.”

Drabble #94

In my head, we’re married. A kid. Son. Intelligent. Handsome. My smile, your furrowed brow. Your long hair, my poor eyesight.

“Hey Pop!”

In my head, we’ve been married for years. Love is wonderful. Can’t get enough of it.

“Hey it’s Little Einstein!”

In my head, we dance drunkenly while laughing. We’re intoxicated with one another.

“You’re aging well old man. Mom too.”

In my head, we die the same time so we don’t live without one another. Our life was fruitful.

“You’ve got something to look forward to.”

I don’t want to live in my head.

Drabble #93

I get it now. All this time asking myself “what is it about me…” and I finally received the answer I’ve needed.

I’m too affectionate. Not off the bat, but first date it’s present. Even when it’s wanted/appreciated/consented to.

Starved for it, and didn’t even realize I was damaging everything by dishing it. I need to keep my hands to myself. Start using my words.

“I’m interested in you.”

But what does that even mean if the absence of affection is present?

Damaged Boy- A Short Story

His ex girlfriend was coming over. Not in that way. He just wanted to talk, be friends. He was approaching the ages where friends just aren’t a thing anymore, or hard(er) to come by. He needed a space that was comfort, like warm soup on a cold day, to ease the uneasiness in his mind, body, and soul.

“What happened?” She asked, taking a seat on his couch.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You gotta have some idea.”
Another shrug. “I really don’t. It’s always the same: a ‘but…’ at the end of every ending.”

She was quiet while shifting in her seat. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“You don’t deserve this.”
“I must.”
She shook her head, he watched her from the corner of his eye. “You don’t.” A hand found its way onto his forearm, rested there.
“I just…I don’t know. You know? If I’m so smart, and all that, why- I don’t know.”

He sort of knew. It didn’t matter how much love he had to give and wanted in return, nor did it matter that he wasn’t quite sure how to give it. He never learned how to accept it. Something that’s taught at an early age by a loving parent.

What’s too much love, not enough? A simple “great job” or “I’m proud of you” goes a long way. He didn’t know what that felt like, but he’s imagined it. He’s imagined a lot of things like mattering to another person, being “included” in someone’s life. Enough to want to try. No “but…” at the end because he made them feel like it was the end; no more searching. He’s great and I’m glad to have found him.

“Why didn’t my mother hug me?” He didn’t say it in an Oedipus way but rather “didn’t my mother love me enough to hug me?”

She was there, gave him a bit of guidance, but emotionally he now knows she seemed “checked out.” Planted a seed, didn’t watch it grow or nurture it. Left him there to figure it all out on his own. Stretch his pedals to the sunlight out of concrete.

His touch was soft because his heart was. Last time he ever received what’s he’s been searching for had been rough. Not the journey but the literal act. Still, accepting it is something he could not comprehend. But he wanted to give it, so badly.

He hadn’t realized it until he felt something fall from his chin but he had been crying. Couldn’t even remember the last time this happened. He didn’t even want to be held. Is this the result of when someone is shown no affection? He desperately wanted to lay his head on his ex girlfriends lap. But, like the act of crying, something terrible held him in place.

“Please, don’t,” he quickly said as she rose from the couch. So much love to give and yet, he doesn’t know what to do with it. Poor flower.