Sexy [sek-see]- adjective: Being Sex.

April 3, 2008

Here is a rule to seduction. A serious sexual thought casts a spell on your eyes. It helps you hold a seductive glare a moment longer. It demands attention, after all– sex sells, and at the end of the day you are doing just that: selling yourself to the world around you.This works particuarly well when you feel a strong sexual chemistry with another individual. I will use an example, let’s call him… Dave.Dave was a manager training at a restaurant I’d worked at as a hostess in my second year of university. He was 35. I was 19. I’d loved him from the moment I’d met him, I wanted him, I had to have him.I worked closely with Dave for weeks knowing he was to be transfered to a location far from my location within a matter or a month, so I had to act fast.I began to build a relationship, he was unusually socially intelligent and so I knew it would be difficult to get to the level I needed to get considering this fact, and adding it to my limited time frame.I began with witty banter and sharp comments, I would flirt with him shamelessly but compliment him with a back-handed flip. I would comment on everything and hold to my opinions, but comment on only what I knew I had enough knowledge on to argue. I would pick random topics to play this out with, making him believe that I had an uncanny intellect of which could challenge his.I was also as socially intelligent as he was. I made it clear, I was friendly and polite, flirty and conservative, completely over the top yet never once crossed the line.My intuition also guided me through this, I had known he wanted me at first glance even though he’d worked overtime to hide this.I couldn’t stop thinking about  how amazing our hard intellectual chemistry would translate in conjunction with the underlying sexual chemistry that I knew we were both feeling. I know I felt the sexual chemistry first, and after I’d built an intellectual passage-way, I worked hard to make a sexual connection. I began to visualize sexually passionate moments when he would speak to me. I had to be careful to find a balance between keeping the witty conversation flowing, but tapping into the sexual energy. Sexuality is fluid. I’ve learned that over the years. It’s everywhere, at all times, it is there. Malsow agrees with this in his hierarchy of needs. People need, first and foremost– food, water, shelter and sex.  Sex is a crucial aspect of the human existence.  It’s the glue that is holding many unhealthy relationships around the world, it brings people together, and tears them apart. They don’t say “sex is power” for nothing, and though potent, when used correctly it is highly effective.It took three days, perhaps four– less than a week, before Dave began to respond. Eventually, the passion had grown so outrageous that the bubble of emotion that had started to build from the intellect and sex had to explode. I planned the day, it was the day he was leaving. He walked up behind me at a server’s station and said “Sexy lady-in-red at table  60! Just sat down with a beautiful dress that covers all of her beautiful curves, and the hottest mile-high heels to match!”  He’d never done that before. I was outraged. I turned around, looked at his face studying mine for a reaction, thought fast and gave him one:”You know. You can’t go making stupid comments about women like that. You’re an asshole, Dave…And I’m totally crazy about you.”  Boom. It was said. It was strong and I’d taken a gamble, but I felt comfortable with it because:

  1. It was staged
  2. It was well thought
  3. I didn’t really let my emotions get involved to cloud my judgement. 
I immediately ran to a well-hidden spot and hid, then ran out for a cigarette with a co-worker who was humorously talented enough to cool my nerves. 
 
I walked back with a clever look on my face, put the visualizations back on my face, and found him at the bar, drinking profusely.
 
I sad down right next to  him and like a woman with a rabid dog, I made sure to show no fear. He looked at me and looked away. Then looked back, and looked away again. After what seemed like five minutes of him trying to get out something, anything from a mouth wired shut by his mind– I made random, sexual conversation.  
 
It was light and airy with an undertone of curt blatancy.  He responded. The conversation turned into a deep chat, the usual, siblings, parents, high school, life, anything. We didn’t stop talking for two hours, as he drank more and more. 
 
He admitted it to me when we got to the part about high school. He said that when he’d been in his early 20′s  he’d dreamt up a woman that looked EXACTLY like me.
 
I am nothing perfect, special at times when I really make an effort, but for the most part– I am the average woman.
 
I was comforted by his kind words, but did not believe them. He insisted, and he proved it.
 
We spent the night on a dock, looking up at the stars and talking about the rest of our lives. I didn’t kiss him, I wanted to. I knew he wanted to. He knew I wouldn’t let him– just knowing that he couldn’t have me made him want me so much more.
 
I got what I needed from him. Closure, confirmation of mutual emotion, sexual energy and intellectual companionship.
 
He called me shortly after he left to tell me that he would never meet another woman like me.

I thought about the game I’d played. I fell in love with the moment, and I embraced it.
 
I told him I would visit, someday.
 
I have yet to visit him, but will. This summer. When I’m ready.
 
Part of me still wonders if the fantasy could ever be as good as the real thing.
The other part of me knows it would, so much so that I have yet to prove it real.
 
He still wonders about me, and has not found another woman since.
 
I know he will one day, but I can only hope that our conversations and arguments have left him a better man than the one I’d originally found.
 
I know he is doing well, and for that I am happy.
 
After all, the truest form of manipulation is ethical. It builds and creates and develops, or else it destroys. No art so fine could ever bare to be responsible for such destruction.  

  

Modern Men

February 17, 2008
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Here is the issue with the modern man: he plants his seed loosely in the soil, making sure that it’s not planted too deeply. He seems to think that someday, at some point something better just may stroll along. He’s waiting for the fence to erode as he dreams of the greener grasses on the other side.  Some men are foolish, they think that one day a model will stroll into the room, pick them out, make amazing love to them and be exactly what they’ve always wanted.In reality I’m sitting there thinking, you’re 5’8. You have a bachelors degree. You’d have more of an education if you were able to get IN to a school, but you can’t. You have no idea what you want out of life, and the last time I checked, despite the fact that you may own your own condo– that is all you have in this whole world.A mortgage, some dry conversation, and more baggage than you can fit into that ugly condo you love so much.Men are interesting creatures, and I have somehow dedicated my life to studying them. I want to know how to get them going, make them stop, how to make them jump while screaming “how high?!”It’s a fun game, and in a way– this is woman’s guide to playing “the game” and this is the way it should be.Women are more powerful than men, intellectually and emotionally we can be on the same level (with the smarter, more successful men) BUT we also have one thing that men will never have, and can rarely ever resista: sex appeal.It’s in the eyes, the collar bones, the curve of your back. Regardless of your size or shape, every woman has got a curve or a look that can grab the attention of a man.It’s all a matter of finding what you have and maximizing it’s potential. It can all be so simple…  

Happy-Valen-tines-Day.

February 17, 2008

valentines_day.jpg I laid low this Valentines. I sat in my apartment while text messages, cards, emails and flowers came to my door. I politely shimmied my way out of requests for drinks and dinner invitations. It’s all just too complicated on Valentine’s day. There is too much expectation. I don’t like expectation, it’s not my thing.  Actually, I make it sound like I sit an collect gifts on a Valentines naturally– but the truth is, this was the first time I’d ever received anything.I wondered how it had taken me so long to finally get what I deserve. I’m a beautiful girl, I don’t mean to sound conceited but I am very, very, pretty to the point where I girlishly denied it, people would think I was fishing for compliments.I wasn’t always pretty, though. This is a recent development. I used to be a little chubby in the face, I don’t have the best smile, and my body was undergoing it’s feminine development process, it still is.In the years that I was ugly, however, I worked on developing a charm and sense of style that shadowed my not-so-good looks. Now that I have somewhat recovered from my rendezvous with the ugly stick, I am considered by most a prize. But this was the first year where I stood with a sense of who I am, and how I need to be treated. I raised myself in calibre by giving off an aura of entitlement.  Boyfriends used to ask me if I wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day and I would simple say “it doesn’t matter to me” or “I don’t care” when really, I wished they didn’t feel that they had the right to ask me. I was not communicating to them how valuable I actually was.Men love the chase. They love being put through hell. They don’t want agreeable women, then want a woman who makes them feel that loved, but lets them know that if they miss up, or stop looking at them as the goddesses they are, they can easily be replaced.  I don’t know why they feel this way, I hope to study them every day that I am alive. I hope to be able to one day come to some sort of conclusion. For now I have correlated this strange male behavior with the “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone” theory. I think that showing men with love, affection and always holding them on the edge of have you/lost you keeps things exciting. So if you spent this Valentine’s Day on the couch with some girlfriends and a bucket of ice cream, I shame you.But if you spent Valentine’s Day on the couch with some girlfriends and a bucket of ice cream while waiting for the gifts to come rolling in… I salute you. You are  


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