Insecure People Play Games

I was never a fan of being coy, beating around the bush, playing hard-to-get. What's the point? Does that really win you popularlity and admiration, or just leave tons of guys with blue balls? I pride myself on being straight with people. Not to the point of being cruel (I do seem to have a soft spot for losers) but in a manner that gets the point across. Because if you dig someone, why prolong the torture of the chase when you can be getting it on every night for a week? It really makes no sense to deny myself the satisfaction when it's so easy to attain. But maybe that's just me. You don't see men lining up to pine after me. Apparently I "scare" them. Well, if the guy's chickenshit, I don't think I'd want to put up with that. It's like they say about Scorpio women, "not for the faint of heart." It certainly takes a man who knows what he wants and how to get it. I'm waiting for my equal, here, folks.

the meaning of loss

I'm beginning to realize that I can mark the passage of time in my life by the objects I have lost over the years. And why is it that every time some boy walks into my life, I lose a shirt, or a scarf, or some of my sanity? Just an observation. See, there was the time the guy I was dating had a party and in my cocktail/Smirnoff/beer haze, I lost my favorite Beatles shirt on the way home when I left in a huff over something said boyfriend had said to me. (No, I wasn't shirtless, thank-you-very-much, I was wearing one of *his* shirts, and no amount of drunkenly retracting my steps brought the missing shirt back to me... in any case, that night marked the end of our relationship, and RIP Beatles shirt as well.) I lost a pair of pleather pants (yes, pleather pants--they made my butt look cute) in Vegas over one particulary debacherous New Year's when I hooked up with a hot chef guy in a casino. I am forever at a loss over this one--those pants never failed to get me attention, and they worked really well in my Matrix Trinity-goes-to-Prom Halloween costume that year (which, ironically, landed me a guy dressed like a ninja-janitor, but that's another story I'd rather not relive). I lost a pair of leather gloves in a NYC taxi cab the spring I was getting over the love of my life, who turned out to be gay.

And this Saturday? A girl's night out to the male revue with some girlfriends (!!), where we promptly met strippers, had drinks, and brought them home with us. I lost a beautiful purple scarf. I'm weighing whether it was worth it, because the guy did call, in observance of the Three Day Rule. That part makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, no scarf necessary.