Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
Im begging of you please dont take my man
Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene
Please dont take him just because you can
Your beauty is beyond compare
With flaming locks of auburn hair
With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green, Your smile is like a breath of spring, Your voice is soft like summer rain, And I cannot compete with you, Jolene...
Jolene by Dolly Parton
Ooh look-ey there! Mmm, mmm, mmm, here comes miz thing, slithering across the room like a sweetly perfumed black mamba, only a hundred times more deadly.
So where the hell does this slinky archetype find the alluring mendacity with which to weave such a fine and intricate tapestry of amatorious duplicity? (That’s a mouthful.) The good girls lament “What does she have that I don’t?” simply stated, "Tammy" may be the sugar in your coffee and honey in your tea, but this girl is without a doubt the opium in your hookah pipe, and baby the first time you inhale her deliciously smoky musk you may as well kiss your ass as well as your sanity good bye.
But it really isn’t a matter of what missy has that the normal girl hasn’t, it’s more a matter of what this "Matta Hari" is missing that spurs such a gorgeous creature to behave so nefariously.
Perhaps she was once the sweet little "Pollyanna" all daisys and butterflies and her first love was our previous archetype “The Player” who’s bite infected her with such an intense distrust and hatred for men that she became an avowed man eater, or maybe she had a tragic childhood filled with night terrors that left her screaming silently into her pillow while theform of parasitism was being performed on her tender young soul. Or perhaps even, she was born a sociopath and the missing part was, oopsie gosh, a genetic boo-boo.
Whatever her reasons, and whether cognizant of them or not, this baby is emotionally and morally bankrupt, she spins her heartless ploys in order to garner the one thing she craves most of all, the infallible ladder to power, and she could care less who’s precious family heirloom she destroys to get it.
To her women friends (when she bothers to make the effort), she is the best friend from hell; dripping with sympathy for whatever problems great or small her poor little “buddy of the month” is naive enough to share with her acutely tuned ear. But beware what you share with the vixen, she, like the fox is cunning and will effortlessly use or twist your most personal secrets to get what she wants. Her motto being “If your stupid enough to share classified information, then you deserve to be used.”
The salacious glamour she dispenses copiously from every pore on her tantalizing body is so intoxicating, that the most reasonable of men have been left sobbing in a fetal position naked and broken on the bathroom floor once this poisoned diva has had her fill of them and given them the “Dear John” poor sods.
And these are the lucky ones.
Men have been duped into killing and being killed by these poisonous sweet-tarts, and you’re nothing but an all day sucker if you fall for any of her ruses, but you’re not alone.
“Femme fatal” is synonymous with heartless seductress, but the fascination with which she captivates her victims may in part spring from a most romantic notion indeed; and that is to capture one and conquer her wickedness with “true love”. This is mere foolishness of course, for living out the fantasy of cracking open her beguiling shell of artifice and diverting all that scrumptious lusciousness into the soft gooey goodness that truly resides deep within her is …well…to put it mildly, delusional.
So la de da, I don’t mean to laugh in your face (alright, maybe a little) but this is not a misunderstood little girl were talking about; under the lipstick rouge and lacey push up lies one of mankind’s greatest hoodwinkers …er…wankers! But go ahead, don’t take my word for it, try cracking the enamel off of one of these turbo charged hot mama’s, you’re likely to be maced by a venom so deadly you’ll wish you’d opted for a vacation in Batswana with your ex girlfriends mother…
Comming soon: The Players and Femme Fatals we love to hate and hate to love in literature & history