This Year's Girl
What's so great about the Barrier Reef?
What's so fine about art?
What's so good about a "Good Times Van"
When you're working on a broken,
Working on a broken,
Working on a broken man?
~Old 97's, "Barrier Reef"
I’m not that attractive. No, wait. Strike that. I’m not very handsome. I’m about 5’8” or 5’9” with a wide, squared jaw. My features are not delicate. A little cherubic, perhaps, but not delicate. However, over the course of the past year, I’ve seduced six different women. This isn’t bragging. I’m not deluding myself into thinking I’m irresistible. Clayton (Clayton=Beast over on Suley’s blog) has probably gleaned much more attention than I have. Hell, pretty much any lady could easily seduce twice that number of men in ten months. Even five months. Five weeks? But, considering my past, that number, six, is pie in the sky high.
To effect this, I acted entirely unlike myself. I would flirt. I would create innuendo. I would play interested. I would not be deathly afraid of them. I did this all for attention. I did not care.
I also never consummated a relationship. Not even in the loosest, least sexual sense. I would make them infer that I would be good boyfriend material, play as if I had what they wanted, and set myself up for relationship after relationship, but never made the connection. I was a man-tease. AM a man-tease? Am I?
To make a long story shortish, I was told by my dearest lesbian friend that I was being a jerk. I needed to provide these girls with a fair chance, rather than just a wink, some reassurance that I was there for them, and the dust cloud of my unexpected departure. What I still don't know is whether that lesbian had enough insight into the situation to really nail down what I should do.
But I took her advice anyway. I am now the proud owner of a second relationship. Look how she shines. Now what? How do you do the dance if you don't know the steps? I just stand in the corner doing the white-boy shuffle while every other couple is out on the dance floor bustin' it superfly. I'm now responsible for another human being's feelings. I fear I may already matter to her. I can't tell. I can't know. I can't think. I can't stop producing these short sentences for effect. Christ. I'm leaving.