Oh, life.

Follow up to previous post.

Sat down (on the phone) with GV8 to discuss what his text messages were about, his concern that my activities were not showing him proper respect and that they would reflect on him poorly if we were in a relationship.

Conversation was for me to determine what the hell he meant by my "activities".

And you know what it was?

Gaming. Pick up.

He felt that my occasional pick up would be a poor reflection on him.

Because we have overlapping social circles, he felt it would look bad that if he pointed me out as his girlfriend, that his friends would go, "Her??? She was totally gaming [insert guy's name here] last week/month/year."

He said that my love for playing meant that I had self-esteem issues (true that I do, obviously, but that's not why I like to play). He said that my love stemmed from always wanting to be in control of social situations.

I try to take each opinion presented to me and consider it for truth. But, really, I have little to no desire to be in true control of a social situation. A desirable guy, for me, will take control of a social situation so I don't have to be in control. So I can relax. So I can see how socially adept and dominant he is.

Anyhow.

He said... many things. He said it was a manipulation. He said it was false representation. He said people should desire me on my own, without game. I tried to explain to him that it was not a manipulation, that I was just displaying myself to my best advantage. I informed him that I have never once represented myself as anything other than I am (which is part of how I play), and I told him that the game is as much a part of me as any other part, and do desire me is to desire all of me, game included.

I would not be who I am today without it.

I deal in truths. I deal in communication. I represent a girl that you can tell everything to, every little secret, every little sin, every one night stand or girl you hurt and I will never judge you poorly, and occasionally high-five you. I will listen, enrapt, to your stories. I will communicate with you, probably more than you want, but you will always know where I stand. I will give you feedback, sexual and social. I will not hold myself back during sex, and if there is a fantasy you want to act out, I'm almost always game (as long as it is not male-submission, which makes me physically ill). If you hurt me, I will tell you, but I will not lash out. If you get into a relationship, I will congratulate you and remain your friend if desired. I make no demands, request only honesty, respect, and communication. I will not display jealousy, if you make me at all jealous. I will never lie to you. I will ask you your boundaries and abide by them. I am polite and respectful.

I am a submissive masculine dandy.

It's what I do. It's what makes me happy.

But I'm derailing myself.

I explain this to him, without using any sort of terminology. I explain that if I make contact with a man who has limited experience, who cannot game, who is shy and unsure, I immediately drop to a comfortable level for them. I recently picked up a man who, while attractive and intelligent, is incredibly sexually inexperienced due to a long-term relationship. As soon as I realized that, I slowly things down incredibly. I worked with him, I coached him, I started teaching him how to kiss, how to touch. I spent almost two hours with him getting him to relax with a new partner, where all we did was kiss and touch, with the occasional grope.

I would never play with a man who would not appreciate it, who I would be taking advantage of.

And while we were talking, I did something I should not have.

But I'm trying to consolidate myself, all parts of myself.

I explained to him how socially awkward I feel. Of how I was the whipping-girl for any social group that would have me until I was about 18. About how I never learned quite how to socialize with my peers because I was always reading.

I explained to him about how, sexually and social/sexually, I'm spot on. But take away the sex, and I stumble. I'm incomplete and unbalanced and I'm trying to learn how to socialize without the sex, learn how to socialize with girls.

I explained how I feel like people can spot me as "different" the second I walk in a room, and how that was supported over the years.

And then... then I explained how picking up random men, building that quick, usually one-night, repitore with them allows part of my brain to latch onto the fantasy that I might not be alone. That someone, somewhere, might understand me. That I'm not as isolated as I feel so often.

He called me sick, at that one. Not maliciously, just an observation.

I laughed at that and said, "Oh, I bet you're thinking to yourself, 'Thank God I escaped from this one!'"

Then I slogged on.

I tried, I tried, and I knew as soon as the words left my mouth, he was not the one I should be saying them to. I tried to explain my predatory nature. I tried to explain that need to hunt, that need to find, to taunt and chase, to run to ground or present myself as something to run to ground. The need to sway my hips, toss my hair, and see what I can bring home because it's fun and it's free and I'm so very good when I want to be.

He told me I'm just trying to validate myself. That it's not about the sex, but about the ego, about proving to myself that I am desirable.

No, I told him, no. When I hunt, it's for the sheer love of it. Because I want to play. I want to build that tension, I want to bring out the aggression, I want to run my nails down a man's chest and sink my teeth into his shoulder as we fuck and sweat together.

...and then silence.

No connect.

No understanding.

I knew there wouldn't be.

He's not like me.

I'm still isolated.

And that was his only complaint. That was why he was done with me, on a deeper level. When we were out the other night, eating dinner, and I shared with my him recent one-night stand, and how things came about, he decided he could not be with someone like me. Someone the likes to play.

I lost one of my better lovers because of my love of the game.

Heh. Figures.

And it's even funnier, because I am not a pick-up artist. I don't lifestyle. I don't go sarging every weekend. Every other weekend. Once a month. Whatever. I don't compare notes, I don't keep field reports (save for what I blog, which isn't supposed to be a field report, but just a recounting of what happened, what I thought, what it means), I don't go to seminars, conferences, boot camps. I don't have buddies that play, ones that I can wing for, who can wing for me.

I work alone, and I do it when the mood suits me or when someone catches my eye.

It's part of me, just like any other.

And with everything else that I am, everything he liked about me (which was, as far as he's said, almost everything about me), that part of my character ruined it for him.

I'm not a beast. I don't even play one on TV.

I'm just a certain way. It works for me. Yes, it is a sign of low self-esteem. But I do it so I can get better, so I can work on myself and interacting with people, so that, hopefully, one day I'll be able to feel confident in any social situation. Confident in myself and my abilities, that I won't do something awful, that I won't stick out like a sore thumb, that I won't be that odd girl in the corner.

I'm trying to be better. I want to be more. I have the potential to be more.

So we talked.

And we agreed that, while things weren't going to go anywhere for us romantically, it would be silly to not have sex. Because the sex is pretty good. Not the best, but he's very experienced and it shows. It's quite enjoyable.

So it's going to be a once every two weeks or so thing. Depending on schedules. Until something happens (relationship, work, school, whatever) and it ends.

And we're both okay with that.

And, for once, someone actually trusts that I won't fall in love with them even though we're having sex. Fucking finally. And he's comfortable with PDAs with casual lovers. He even expects them. I don't have to hold back. I can be as cuddly as I want, and he's not going to wig about it like some guys do.

So while I won't be getting awesome little gifts, and while I won't be helping him host parties, I'll still be spending time with him, going to the parties at the loft, sleeping with him, and enjoying myself.

Not half bad.

If I'm lucky, I'll be able to snag one of his guy friends who is particularly attractive to me. I want him, I need him, oh baby, oh baby.