Here's to the sluts

This post is a follow-up to the thought process begun in an earlier post called Help I'm Losing my Depth


I'm a very sensitive guy.

I cry easily, I tend to make friends with girls more easily than I do with guys, (I make friends with guys, it just happens more easily with girls) I have an uncanny ability to read the subtext between people... I have an instinct about people that borders on "women's intuition".

I'm also a very passionate guy.

I do things intensely, (even when I'm doing nothing) I feel things intensely and I can express them intensely. When I feel passionate about what I'm talking about, I tend to speak like I'm on stage, talking to an audience and making sure the person in the last row doesn't miss a word. (it doesn't help that I was trained to do this) ...think Al Pacino when he's slightly over the top – which is most of the time.

Now, before you start thinking that I'm some kind of unstable, violent, emotional mess, I should add that all this is kept in check by a powerful rational mind, a deep compassion and sensitivity to others' wellbeing and a curse that condemns me to always see both sides of an issue and which sometimes leads to an unhealthy passivity. I'm one of those guys of whom they say: "not a mean bone in his body"

These two traits have their disadvantages... They've caused me my share of problems throughout my life. But when it comes to sex, it appears they make for an absolutely killer combination. -- Ok, if this sounds like I'm saying I think I'm good in bed, it's because I am (saying it). I don't want to brag [yes you do, says a voice in my head] but it's central to what I'm trying to say in this post. My confidence in saying it comes from the many things almost every woman I've ever made love with has told me... the common thread being that I was "the" or "among the" best they'd ever had. ...that I was "a keeper", etc... At first, I truly thought this was just something all girls told guys to keep them happy and devoted. Seriously, I imagined girls and women transmitting that advice through the ages... I even saw some evidence of it. But as I confronted most women with my theory... enough of them made a sincere enough plea to convince me that I really was "a rare find among men" when it came to making love.

One might think that this would make me some kind of Casanova or heartbreaker... the kind of guy that girls fawn over and so on... Except that...

I am completely and utterly clueless when it comes to approaching, pursuing, or seducing women.

My so-called ability to read people's emotional subtext seems to only apply to what I sense between other people... When it comes to someone interacting with me, my insecurities and caution completely interfere with my intuition about the other. And if I'm sexually attracted to the person, it's like all of my empathic intelligence vanishes and I turn into this big, blundering, mechanical, speak-only-when-spoken-to-and-blurt-out-nothing-but-platitudes, boring, geeky automaton.

I am very lucky to be a half decent-looking, "cute" guy... and that, though I'm shy, I'm not awkward... when I finally do open my mouth, a feat in and of itself; I tend to come across as smart, articulate and perceptive. Without these graces working in my favour, I'm sure I would have lost my virginity much later than I did (17) and I certainly wouldn't have the sexual confidence I have today. (I'd also probably be married, desperately holding on to the one I have, and not asking myself all these existential questions about women, sex and relationships... but I digress) The point is I had enough redeeming qualities that some women decided they wanted me, and showed enough initiative to draw me out, lead me by the hand and take me to bed. ...And then, decided they wanted to keep me.

...

In my early years, what saved me were the sexually aggressive girls. Better known as the "sluts"... As teenagers, we all want to have sex, but all have issues and anxieties about how to go about it... (Guys too, heck, we're expected to take the lead and have terrible road maps! While girls are conditioned to be passive to obtain our approval) A slut is just a girl who, tired of waiting for the guy to get his s#*t together, decides at some point to take the initiative and push things further on her own, just to see what'll happen, and quickly discover how easy it is to get a guy to cooperate in such matters... and then, often woefully disappointed in the initial result, she tries again with other guys... every time discovering a bit more how easy guys are ...and how lame we are (especially at that age) at satisfying a woman. If she's not careful, she gets a reputation... and then guys start coming to her thinking finally someone with who I can skip all that confusing bs and get down to business. Even the more popular higher social status guys (the ones girls go googoo eyed for, the ones for whom they magically open their legs) start to come to her. She's not that different from other girls... she falls for him too... but by now, she's "the slut", he's just coming to her because he doesn't have to work as hard as with other girls, she cooperates... but there's no way he wants to go out with her "in front of everyone"... her heart breaks ... she just wanted what everyone else wanted... now she's being punished for having dared to go for it. It's just so unfair.

...Hey wait a minute! This was supposed to be about me.

Right, so I was saying how the sexually aggressive girls saved me from prolonged virginity. On her journey to try men out for size, the sexually aggressive woman eventually sets her sights on me. (Later, she'll tell me that she was attracted by the intensity that seemed to sometimes shine though my mild mannered appearance) Deciding she might as well try me too, she uses her tricks on me (later commenting that I was particularly thick at times) and gets me into bed with her. And then, instead of just another guy who's clueless about pleasing her, she gets a sensual and sexual dynamo, eager to please her in every way possible and who seems to know just what to do and when to do it.

All right, at this point I can hear the groans of "this guy is really full of himself!" But I can't tell you how often I've heard, once the lovemaking is over, the equivalent of "Wow! Where'd you learn that?" or "How did you know?" ...which often leaves me a little perplexed since, though I learned a lot from reading Penthouse Letters as a kid, and later from watching porn, the specific thing I'm being asked about is usually either something I've just tried for the first time, or it's the first time I've done it quite that way, or it's something I just knew she would like at that moment. All I can say about it is I listen to my partner... Guys, if you're reading this, listen to your partner, not just with your ears, with your heart... with your soul. Every breath she takes, every moan, every movement of her body tells you what to do.


At this point her pattern is broken and one of two things happen she either decides I'm a keeper and we start a relationship... or she figures I'm not what she's looking for on her journey to success but unlike other men, she'll keep seeing me... Later, this would be the pattern of most of what were supposed to be one night stands... I would meet a woman through a personals service; she would make it clear beforehand that she was only interested in a one night stand; I would agree to it and after the sex, she'd decide I was a keeper and she'd want to see me again and me, affective whore that I was, willing to sell his soul for a little love, I would agree and a casual or sometimes serious relationship would ensue.

The point I'm trying to make, (other than trying to convince my female readers that I'm a really great lover and that they should get in touch with me) is that if it hadn't been for sexually aggressive women, It's quite likely that no one would have discovered what a great lover I am... not even myself.

So here's to all the sluts out there. I think it's completely twisted the way our social constructs work against you. Thanks to you, shy, sensitive, passionate guys like me get to blossom. ...and you get to enjoy the benefits of that. ;)


This post was supposed to be about how just about every woman I've ever hooked up with chose me first and made the first move and how I've almost never ended up with the women I chose to pursue. And about my cluelessness in the field of pursuing women and recent things I learned about that and about myself in regards to that. But after re-reading this post, I decided to end it here and leave the other things for later.

Just One Of Those Things...

This is for someone who is very near and dear to me in my heart. ♥♥♥ ...and, no, It's not a cheap way of saying goodbye or breaking up (though feel free to use it as such if you please) but it is in many ways, a metaphor for my last relationship - especially the way it started...



[Just One Of Those Things by Cole Porter]

As Dorothy Parker once said to her boy friend,
"Fare thee well,"
As Columbus announced when he knew he was bounced,
"It was swell, Isabelle, swell,"
As Abélard said to Héloïse,
"Don't forget to drop a line to me, please,"
As Juliet cried in her Romeo's ear,
"Romeo, why not face that fact, dear?"

It was just one of those things,
Just one of those crazy flings,
One of those bells that now and then rings,
Just one of those things.

It was just one of those nights,
Just one of those fabulous flights,
A trip to the moon on gossamer wings,
Just one of those things

If we'd thought a bit
Of the end of it,
When we started painting the town,
We'd have been aware
That our love affair
Was too hot not to cool down.
So goodbye, Dear, and Amen.
Here's hoping we meet now and then,
It was great fun,
But it was just one of those things.

© Cole Porter

Help! I’m losing my depth…

Read the intro to this post here

From early on in my teens, it became clear to me that I didn’t look at women exactly the same way as other guys did. I would not even notice the “perfect 10” that my friends were all drooling over, and then I would see a woman pass by who totally stoked my embers and my friends would shrug saying: “Dude, what are you talking about? She’s barely a seven!” It sometimes did happen that we would all agree on the same girl, but it was clear my standards had nothing to do with theirs.

I was much less interested in a woman’s measurements than in something I saw in her eyes… there was something in the way some women walked and carried themselves that just drove me nuts and it wasn’t just to be found in the so-called hotties… in fact it seemed to me that a majority of the girls my friends thought were hotties didn’t have it while most girls who had it were those my friends considered sevens or eights. (The truth is we didn’t grade women on numbered scales like that but it’s easier to tell the story that way) It was even to be found in some girls my friend considered plain ugly. But with me it invariably had the same effect, whatever it was, it didn’t matter how she looked, if she had it, it made me want to have sex with her.

Which is not to say I ever did. (More on that in a future post)

Though my friends often laughed at my quirky taste in women, (often suggesting I might be gay – as guys will do) I always told myself that it was they who were blind whereas I knew what it was really about. They were just attracted to what the overwhelming social conditioning of our times (mostly through advertising) was brainwashing them into thinking they should find attractive. While I, who was a deeper human being than they, was beyond all that. I could see through all that crap and allow myself to be attracted by a woman’s “inner beauty”… her soul.

I was always proud of that. In fact, I would even brag about this to girls, thinking I would impress them with my depth and maturity compared to other guys. And the truth is, I did get a lot of validation from girls about such things. Just not the type I was hoping for… Girls trusted me, but I was mostly the nice guy they confided in while my “less evolved” friends fooled around with them, treated them like dirt and broke their hearts. (again, I plan to expand on this in a future post)

Teen frustrations aside, I’ve still always been proud of my ability not to get fooled by plastic beauty. And I still talk about this to women as it is a quality that distinguishes me from other guys and that many of them seem to appreciate particularly… especially as they / we are getting older. Plus I like the idea that I’m not a slave to the same pretty women as everyone else. So I have always made this one of the things that define who I am. An integral part of my identity

There’s only one problem, it’s not true anymore.

I don’t know exactly when it started, but a few years ago, I started to find myself having reactions (strong ones) to girls who, after I regained my senses, clearly didn’t have it. All they had to have was a tight body and a sexy outfit. Maybe it was the fact that I was now in my thirties… maybe it was all that time spent in relationships with older women… maybe it was just the advent of the Britney Spears navel flashing fashions of the time but gradually, something changed in me until I found that my head was turning and my heart stopping for any sexy young thing that was showing a little bit of skin whether she had it or not… Suddenly, the view of a young woman with a tight body elicited stronger physical reactions in me than my it women ever did. Where the it women, in their infinite variety, provoke an “oooh… wouldn’t it be fun to see how many times I can make you cum?” type of reaction, the armies of identical looking young sexy numbers provoke more of a “You don’t want to know the things I’m thinking of doing to you right now” type of reaction.

Is this what every other guy’s had to deal with since being a teenager? If so, no wonder men are such jerks! …and why did it take me so long to feel it?

Or is it just something that happens to men as we get older, that we become more and more powerfully attracted to …youth

I rather think it’s the latter. But DAMN! It’s a powerful and disruptive feeling. (and I thought this was only supposed to happen when I turned 40!)

I wouldn’t mind so much if it didn’t interfere with my old way of gauging a woman’s attractiveness, but it totally does. I now find myself not considering women I would have considered before just because they stray too far from that youthful ideal. I find myself yearning for a woman that fulfills both criteria (to have it AND a young hot body)

I find myself, as I attempt to rewrite my old dating site profiles for this new “run” I am about to go on, thinking about removing lines such as “I’m more interested in who you are than what you look like”… Damn! I liked that line. But it just doesn’t sound sincere anymore…

Oh my god! I’m becoming like every other guy, I just want a hot babe!

HELP ME! I’m losing my depth.

The Nicest Thing a Woman's Ever Said to Me After Having Sex

A couple of years ago, a woman told me something while relaxing after we had sex for the first time.

She said: "All women should know you."

Now I think that's about the honest to goodness greatest thing in the whole gee-whiz universe that a gal could tell a guy after they've had sex. It works on so many levels for us...

Last November, I was reflecting on that and it inspired this short text (in french) which I since have been debating whether or not to post once I had this whole blog thing figured out. Well, here goes... I'm already half embarassed by it and I'm pretty sure if I look back on this in a few years I'll want to gag, but it does reflect some of what I think about love relationships and that feeling called jealousy that I don't seem to possess in the same way as most.

How to Train a Woman

I always like hearing Maureen Dowd on male-female relationships even if she sometimes emphasizes way too much her idea that men are too intimidated by powerful women to have lasting relationships with them (I suspect she's projecting some personal issues on that one)

But her fascination with the subject sometimes brings forth some interesting insights like this piece on the parallels between exotic animal training and spouse perfecting called How to Train a Woman

Though her joyfully poisonous style is always a pleasure to read, the real meat of what she refers to is in another ny times article by Amy Sutherland called What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage ...basically a lesson to most women about the value of reward over punishment in trying to get your guy to behave.

Pretty funny!


If ever the above liks are broken, you can find the Maureen Dowd piece here and the Amy Sutherland piece here