Ambivalence towards my sexual partners became somewhat of a theme that correlated with my decreased posting activity. It’s not that I get bored with every girl I meet, see, it’s just that I get bored with the ones who are willing to have sex with me. Saturday night was a new high/low watermark in the saga of my sexual achievement/indifference. The tale goes a little like this…
About two months ago I had just been just friended by TCNC. I was not happy about this, as the combination of personal enthusiasm and achieved intimacy in the relationship had me fairly optimistic about the future. But this is what happens. The next weekend I am out at a bar and strike up a rousing conversation with a fairly attractive blond girl who was part of our party. A common interest in rival baseball teams drove a conversation to the point where it was clear that we wanted to have sex with each other. Then we did. Frequently. We’ll call her SP, for slam-piece.
Let’s count the ways that she has been functionally perfect. First, nice body. Off to a good start. Second, she makes no emotional demands on me whatsoever. No complaints there. Third, she orgasms just from sex. I mean, it doesn’t get any better than that. Foreplay? No thanks, just the D, thank you. But again, the ambivalence.
Finally, Saturday. I’m meeting a friend at a bar for his birthday party, and SP shows up. I keep expecting my encounters with her to be awkward, in retribution for my frequent avoidance of her in the online chatting and etc. However, this never happens; she’s always nice, always genuinely happy to see me, and always finding a way to subtly remind me that there’s a nice warm place to bury my penis, if I so desire. What a great girl! Still, I’m restless. Feeding off of my friends who have a strict no-approach policy, I obsess in a minor way over my lack of motivation to meet and greet, and spend way more time dancing awkwardly with my friends (yes some girls) than is healthy. We leave for another bar. Without SP. She meets us there. I realize I have to go back to bar one (to meet friends I inadvertently stiffed), and walk back. Without SP. (OK, so I’m no chivalrous hero in todays story). More awkward dancing with friends, more not approaching, although I do get roped into long intense conversations with a couple girls I had previously met. Not interested. As the bar is closing up, I go downstairs… and of course, there’s SP.
On the way back to my place she’s genuinely sweet, again. We have a coy jokey conversation about my lack of emotional investment and how sporting she has been, and then we fuck. She spends the night for the first time, and it’s actually kind of nice. This is the kind of girl people marry, folks. So what’s my deal? Ideally I could wrap this up in a 100 calorie fun pack, but this is the best I can do: my karma is seriously fucked. It’s not that I’m actually treating her poorly; she knows exactly what’s going on, even if we never talk about it, because she’s a smart girl. But, as they say in Texas, just ’cause no one’s getting hurt, that don’t make it right. (I’m not sure they say that)
Unrelated Observation #1: This girl came up to me and my friend to tell him he looked like John Krasinksi, which he definitely does (“My friends and I were wondering if anyone’s ever told you…”). Her main problem was that she was not attractive, but her second main problem was that she was extremely apologetic about the whole thing. For the love of God, if you’re going to go up and hit on someone, don’t repeatedly apologize and insist that you’re not looking for a boyfriend. It’s just embarrassing.
Unrelated Observation #2: I need at least one friend who will give me some moderate goading to go up and talk to girls, even if they’re not willing to do it themselves. I have no problem talking to girls. But I’m just awkward enough that if my friends are not going to back me up in any way the doubt starts creeping in and I don’t do it.
