I was thinking, mapping out plans for how I would get into Helen’s panties and have her caught in my net, while those low-lives were busy mentioning that bag of potatoes I called a fiancée. *Meave was too predictable, too easy, too available* She wasn’t in sight, but I could guess exactly what she was doing in my mansion—that was how predictable she was. I needed something that would challenge my psyche, a woman who knew who she was and understood her own mind and the minds of others. A woman who wouldn’t be afraid to assert her rights and call me out when I disrespected her A woman who could tell me her story and make me say, “Wow, you are strong.” A woman who had achieved and wanted to achieve more on her own, without the help of any man. Helen was the best candidate for this; I wanted to see how much I could control her, how much I could tame her. No matter how independent or strong a woman was, I believed I could bring her down and manage her strengths. Before Meave, I had been with women like Helen. I had succeeded in taming them, but it never came easy—it was always a challenge. I missed that thrill, that excitement when the person you want to grasp is so slippery, both emotionally and psychologically, you might think you have them, but within a split second... poof, they’re gone.