Why Men Love Bitches (Part Deux)

Circa 2006, I started this story and it’s a story that deserves to be finished.
After a day of being an irresistible bitchvia text and rendering all of his attempts at flirting unsuccessful on his part, the Professor proceeded to keep in contact that evening. I was out with friends and was having a good enough time though nothing was distracting me quite enough to keep me from occasionally glancing at my phone. Not wishing to seem impolite I had, of course, invited him to the ever dimly lit, smoke filled and badly serviced Biddy Mulligans of yesteryear for an opportunity to socialize with my friends, buy me a drink and perhaps attempt to seduce me in a real world setting. 

However, harboring hopes for nothing beyond purely physical, up against a wall, talking optional sexual encounters for the evening, as all commitment phobic assholes worthy of bitch-like treatment do, he rebuffed the idea of all such communal interaction invitation and instead gallantly offered to come pick me up and take me back to his place for a night cap.
 
I was growing rather bored with the exchange already, but when it became clear that he wasn’t even going to make the effort to come out and persuade me in person to come home with him, I went from bored to mildly offended. This man clearly had no interest in conversation or any interaction involving a greater amount mental or emotional exhaustion than one might have with a chocolate éclair. 

Knowing that I was uncategorically worthy of seduction more mentally strenuous and than text message regardless of how attractive or tenured the man might be, I grew ever more resolutely obstinate, irritated and hostile with every click of the send button until I just decided to ignore him completely. 

Guess who ate it up with a spoon and couldn’t get enough?

That guy.

Why followed next is perhaps the greatest “why men love bitches” exchange of all time.
Professor: Good morning sunshine
Scarlett: (2 hours later) Good morning.
Professor: So, you were being quite to cocktease last night
Scarlett: Well seeing as how I had absolutely NO interest whatsoever in you OR your cock, I don’t see how that’s possible.

Thus was the unceremonious and immediate ending of our voluntary interaction. Apparently men, even the gluttons for punishment, don’t love bitches THAT much.



Frankly,





*Side note: The image recorded is that of my favorite author, Elizabeth Wurtzel, on the cover of my favorite book, entitled none other than BITCH: In Praise of Difficult Women. I Highly recommend you check it out not only will the social commentary make you laugh, but as always, Ms. Wurtzel's prose feed the soul.

'Cuz That's Just Who I am This Week

So, after being canceled on last Thursday for date #2 with Lawyer Man, I was almost ready to toss him onto the discard pile – however, after feeling somewhat generous I decided to take him up on his offer of Thai food and a movie at his place last night. 

Not necessarily a mistake…but not exactly the most brilliant of ideas. Let me break it down for you this way: He’s insanely attractive. Tall, dark, handsome, beefy but in a crazy strong, muscley, rugby player kind of way (just the kind of guy you want to snuggle up with and, incidentally just my type). Yummy. Definite chemistry. However, that’s where the pros end. Purely superficial. 

He’s sweet, but in an “I’m too sexy for my shirt” kind of way. He’s all with the calling me “baby”, which, after a week long acquaintance is annoying in itself. But then, when this grown man started pouting – literally pouting – after I drew the "no sex" line …I was definitely turned off. Especially when he pulled out the, “but I’m so crazy about you, baby”. To which I replied, “calm down, pout boy, you don’t even KNOW me!!? Furthermore, if you think this is some kind of litigation to be argued and negotiated upon, consider me judge and jury of the Supreme Court 'o Love. Your verdict: Guilty.” 

And so, in his rather lawyerish way, he started a lengthy appeal process, touting the merits of his case. He wants to date me exclusively. He’s hardly ever felt this way. That I'm amazing. That he NEEDED to express his feelings. Puh-lease! 

That schpeal might work on a girl desperate for male attention, affection or a relationship, unfortunately for him, that’s NOT me - this week anyway. 

Poor boy, his plan backfired and the relationship talk was a turn OFF. I just got back on the market! I don't care how cute he is - the only way i'm jumping off the highway at the first rest stop is if Russell Crowe is holding the exit sign! And the begging - just pathetic. I thought I had left these sorry tactics back in the frat house where they so definitely belong.

Amateur seduction hour aside - while physically speaking chemistry exists, mental stimulation is next to nil. There was not a bookshelf to be found in his apartment (strike one); he doesn’t make me laugh and half my witty, sarcastic one-liners soar over his head(strike two); he’s waaaaay too quick with the cute nicknames which either cinches the 'most transparent motives in DC award' and is just trying to get laid or b) that, much like Fuckhead, he’s an emotional whore (strikes three and/or four!). 

I'm no expert but doesn't that qualify as a definitive "out" in most sporting circles?

While yes, a little lovin’ is always fun and very much needed, this is NOT someone with whom I envision a future. 

So frankly, what's the point??

Goin' on a Man Hunt

Well, thank you to DC Blogs for drawing extra special attention to my extra special lack ....of attention.

 

But moving on.

 

The date with Lawyer Man went well - considering that it was my first "first" date in roughly a year and a half - getting an email the next morning saying,:

 

Scarlett,

 

Can I just tell you that you're simply amazing and I want to spend more time with you.

What are you doing tonight?

 

Lawyer Man

 

A flattering start, no?

 

Well he's absolutely georgous by any definition. Kinda tall (5'10), dark and handsome - just my type. Definitely a romantic - very touchy feely, very complimentary, very no games. Which is good - in theory, right? Right.

 

The problem is (because there's always a problem, or complication or...drama...because if there weren't, it wouldn't be my life) is that #1, I'm afraid, not of jumping, of being unwillingly catipulted into another relationship; #2. After THREE YEARS of overlapping relationship after relationship, I would like to Date - actually DATE a bit.

 

I want to walk down the sidewalk, trying to anticipate whether or not the man next to me will hold my hand. I want to go to a movie and nervously analyze his arm/leg movements and decern whether or not he's trying to get closer to me or touch me. I want to agonize over my outfit and feel extra sexy when I walk out the door, hoping to make him get all hot and bothered over dinner.  I want to have anticipation as  he walks me home as to whether or not he'll kiss me goodnight. I want to WONDER - to hope.

 

I want someone that I WANT - not a damn fan club!!!

 

Does that make sense? The thrill of the chase - isn't just for boys ya know. I want to put the effort into all out killer seduction, not just have the man roll over and play dead.

 

My father would roll his eyes and say, "heaven forbid you date a man who actually LIKES YOU!?!?!"

 

Now despite popular opinion, I'm NOT a maschochist. But I want ....to adore someone...not just be adored. I want to want someone because of what I see in them - not just because of what they see in me. I want to have the opportunity to feel that 'wanting', that yearning, that lust instead of just reacting to someone else's desire. I want the mirror to reflect both ways.

 

I'm not saying that I'm not going to see Lawyer Man again (truth be told, date #2 is scheduled for tonight), but I'm definitely not ready to take the first man i find and leave it at that.

 

Frankly,