Miss AP's Diary

Crimes of Passion

Crimes of Passion

One time I did a kick-and-run on my Argentinean boyfriend in the middle of Chinatown in San Francisco. We were having a screaming match as was so often the case (passions run high when you’re dating a Latin-American) and in a fit of blind rage I kicked him full-force on the behind. It took me a moment to realise what I had done and in an instant my hot blood had run cold with shame. I legged it. I ran through Chinatown, sending flying several bent-double grannies on the way, and I continued running until I reached North Beach by which time my heart was fit to burst. Needless to say, he didn’t follow me.

This, ladies and gentleman, is what we call a crime of passion.

The dark side of love is a tricky path to tread, believe me. If you are prone to losing your cool and giving in to dreadful dark impulses, here is my guide on how to minimise the damage.

Dispose of the evidence

In the case of my Argentinean loverman, this required a dose of arnica on the ass cheek followed by some serious ass-kissing. However, in general I find shock to be the safest tactic when attempting to erase any memories of anything untoward. When I returned home later that evening I came bearing gifts of fine Japanese whiskey and a brand new cutaway playsuit that I wore underneath my coat to unleash the moment I walked in the door. Was he shocked? Certainly. Did he suddenly find his memory of the kick had vanished? Most definitely. Evidence efficiently eliminated.

Accept your punishment

Some crimes should not go unpunished. Rather than risking the dreaded silent treatment, or worse, the disappointed talk, present him with a black leather cat o’ nine tails and let him do his worst. Hint: unless he is a genuine sadomasochist (which I’ve discovered is reasonably rare), he will swipe your cheeks with it a few times then get bored and give you your just desserts without any implements other than his own.

Address your issues

Do you see red often? Cognitive behavioural therapists recommend locating your anger in your body so that you can be aware of it and thus quash it. I recommend locating red on your body via your underwear to deflect your rage. Wiggle your curves into the blazing scarlet satin of the Tammi or the lace of the Annoushka, and every time you feel a rage coming on simply allow yourself a little flash of your own knickers – even a bra strap will do – and you will quickly realise how foolish your flaring nostrils are and how much you’d rather be directing this red-hot passion to more pleasurable ends.
Please note, if you have in fact committed a true crime of passion and actually killed somebody, I’m terribly sorry to say I just can’t help you. Red underwear, alas, can only get you so far in life.