Just when I thought I'd done it, accomplished it, tamed the wild horse of valuing myself I got married. To an asshole. An asshole who took it upon himself to make sure he knew that my naturally curly hair was ugly, I'd look fatter in horizontal stripes than I did normally, my legs were too fat, my boobs were too little, I should lose weight, I didn't dress right, I talked too loud in public and just generally that I sucked. All my hard work, torn up and thrown into a puddle of rancid rain water. I tried to pick up the pieces, wiping them off on my jeans but realized it was futile. I had to start over.
On the night I told my former husband that it was over, I laid the first brick. I put down the very beginning of my foundation and I kept building. Slowly at times, faster at others. I remember that I'm very, very smart. I realized just how charming I am. I reevaluated and redeveloped my entire self-worth and, by god, I am worth twice my weight in AMAZING.
One thing that always nagged, though...I know I'm pretty, everyone is pretty but I'd never felt like I could get "that guy." You know which one I mean. The successful, smart, handsome and looks like he just walked off the set of '300' guy. The one that seems like he has it all, whether or not he actually does is of less importance. This is the one that you want simply because he exists. In the end it wouldn't matter if he had the intelligence of a 2 year old, as long as he keeps his shirt off.
Selfish? Yup. Ego driven? Yessir. Classy? Oh get off your high horse! This one is all about appearances and I am A-Ok with that! Is he a guy that needs his ego stroked frequently? Probably. Am I willing to stroke it? God am I ever!
There has existed a man on one of my dating sites. A gorgeous man, a man with a body like a god. Pretty sure he's Adonis' twin brother. By all rights, he definitely has more than just the body, much more. I've long oggled his thumbnail sized photo, never quite daring to click on it so that he'd see I had visited his profile and scoff at what such an ugly duckling was doing there. Once or twice I'd looked at it, drooled over his pictures and wondered what kind of woman he'd take, how leggy, skinny, big-breasted and blonde you'd have to be to land a guy like that. I didn't at all think I'd make the cut, not even close. I'm a bit doughy about the mid-section and am definitely no super model.
Would I want to fall in love with him? Probably not, despite our high match percentage I'm quite positive we'd have little in common to build an actual relationship on. But did that deter me from wondering what he'd be like in bed? Pfft...nope! He's hot, there's absolutely NO denying that. He's gorgeous and I'm positive he knows it. But really...what could it hurt to dip my toe into the water and see if he bites?
So without even a second thought, I opened up a message to him. In very short order, no hesitation, no fear, no intimidation I penned a quick note and very pointedly told him that I wasn't really sure we'd be any good at a relationship but I was intensely curious about what kind of women he finds on the site and what he'd be like as a lover. I fully expected a polite brush off at best and complete silence at worst but what did it hurt?
Then to my curious shock, only a few minutes later I had a reply. He was hooked by my confidence, my boldness. This started a fast paced exchange of conversation. We were both neither shy nor afraid to make it perfectly clear that we had no real intention of dating in the romantic sense and that this was in fact a veiled negotiation to just sleep with each other. I was clear, he was clear. No pretense of interest in what he does or what I do, no concern over interests or hobbies. I wanted him, in the most animalistic of senses and to my utter surprise he wanted me too.
Then I had it, he sent another response with his phone number and a request that I text him. So I did and we continued texting. To quote one of my favorite movies; "I got a number. I got a NUMBER. I GOT A NUMBER!" I was elated and just a little bit stunned.
I'll be honest in saying that there was an exchange of a few photographs, nothing outright lewd but definitely something that would've gotten Weiner in trouble. Then it happened, he started to compliment me, he started to tell me how much he liked what he saw, he was attracted to me. To me!
A man, whom I would never ever have thought would go for an average girl like me was suddenly very muscular putty in my hands. My confidence was written in stone. I had reached what was, in my opinion, the Mt. Everest of men. Someone who undoubtedly is viewed as an object by women of all shapes and sizes. I had him, I had his attention and I had his interest.
Do I think I can believe everything he says? No. Do I think a guy will say damn near anything to have sex? Yup. Do I believe that guys have to be at least sorta attracted to get it up? Yes. Do I think he's a chubby chaser? Possibly. Do I think that this is anything more than just sex? Nope and that's just how I want it. This is not a love match, am I completely closed off to the idea that he might surprise me again? No. This is a huge ego boost for me, if it becomes anything else, so be it. If it stays just sex, in fact if we only ever meet once, I'm happy. I accomplished something. I learned something about myself and about men.
I may just be prettier than I thought, the supermodel type may not be that desirable in the end, I need to lose the judgements, going with my gut instinct pays off and confidence really is key. So please...for me, the next time you're too intimidated to do something like ask a man like this out
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| A special thank you to Mario Lopez for standing in for the man I am talking to. |
