I felt entirely better after I decided to cancel on everyone this weekend, even though I know my lack of presence at one small gathering will likely temporarily destroy the event.

C, a mutual friend and concert buddy, and I went out to go see The Bassist's band play last night, over at this tiny place in Los Angeles. It wasn't a venue as much as a tiny art gallery turned into a "hey, you can play here" type deal. The acoustics were horrific, I actually had to resort to earplugs for the first time in my clubbing and concert-attending life (more the former than the latter, really).

But I enjoyed myself.

While C was attempting, by text, to stroke the wounded ego of a man she is seeing (another one, not Redwing) because The Bassist is more adorable than he is, my "type" was brought up. I only know this because, while I was talking with someone, she burst into laughter, and when I questioned her, she showed me a text message that read as follows:

"We all know her type is made of testosterone, ice, and stoicism."

I thought that was cute.

I also met The Bassist's most recent ex-girlfriend. Or, at least, I think it was her from the way they were talking. When he mentioned to me that she would be there, I thought, "Oh, cool. They're obviously really close friends, so I'll just make sure I get her to like me and we'll be good."

First, she was... really, startlingly unattractive. Below average. Beautiful eyes, decent lips, horrible haircut, lumpy body that was made all the more unattractive because of her apparent need to dress in hipster/scenester fashion which is designed for rail-thin girls, not so much the short and lumpy. It made her body look horrible.

So, I was standing there going, "Wow, if I decide to veer in his direction, I am a significant step up, at least physically," and "I'm glad she's not super hot, because that would make me anxious and this makes me much more relaxed."

I tried to join in the conversation, tried to smile, tried to meet her eyes.

Nothing. Standing there for about a minute, minute and a half, while she avoided me, even when I tried to engage her, I finally said, "Screw it," and stopped bothering, instead turning slightly to cut off that group and engage with C.

She was so young. She was incredibly young, a scenster in training, and just... young. I didn't understand it. But if he likes her, I'm sure she's cool.

Concert was good. I caused a mini-revolution by choosing to go to the front, next to the stage, and sit. As soon as I did that, about a fifth of the audience sat down with me. It was amusing. I looked back at my friend, raised my fist in the air, and declared, "Viva la Revolution!"

C... she was bored and hungry. She left the concert, walked down the street to a diner she liked, and ate. It was a little offputting, but not too terribly. We met up with her after the concert. I always forget that she gets bored so easily if she's not doing something she wants to do. I never get bored because I always find ways to entertain myself, so I don't worry about that in others.

Whoops.

When we arrived back at her place, a little after midnight, Redwing was there.

He had, last week, pissed me off. I was talking to C and he happened to be there, and I told her something that I did not want repeated to a particular person so there would not be drama. So after I said it, I requested that it remained with the three of us. I trust C not to do such things, and I figured that since Redwing is male, he wouldn't engage in gossip, especially if I requested it of him.

The next day, I get an email from the person I did not wish to have that information as, apparently, he told her immediately.

I was livid.

I do not get angry easily. Or rather, when I do get angry, it tends to last for a minute, maybe to, and then fades. I was angry all day.

So he was there, and awkward.

I was tired, tossed my stuff up on the futon, started digging around in my bag, and C mentions to him how she traumatized me on the way to the concert by discussing him as a sexual being. Because he's not. He's an inexperienced girly man, and for her to tell me that he's hung and fantastic with his mouth and loves D/s and I'm sitting there going "Oh god, gag."

So she mentions that to him and he says, "Oh, that's good. Because I don't see you as sexual at all, even with knowledge of your history."

And then she follows him with a, "Yeah, V, I've never seen you as sexual."

I was kinda... floored. No one has ever said that to me. And it bothered me.

I mean, yes, I do keep myself sexually apathetic around C, mostly because the men that are around are men she is interested in and I am not. And when Redwing is about... eesh, no. He's never seen me interact with a male I find desirable.

I keep it really tamped down. There's no point.

And, really, I don't wear slutty clothes ever. I don't set off anyone's slutdar. I have no visible tattoos, I'm not prone to wearing low-cut shirts, and when I do wear skirts and dresses, they usually hit me just below the knees. I don't "sex-up" my hair. I was talking with my stylist about how to give it more body, why it was always so sleek, and she told me it was incredibly, incredibly healthy. My hair isn't damaged with sprays, curling irons, blow-dryers, gel, or bleach. It's soft, smooth, and fine, split-ends are non-existent. My ears are not pierced, I don't get fake nails or grow my nails out overlong. I don't believe in accessorizing unless I have to, because accessories are annoying. If I can find a way to go without a purse, I do.

Really, I have three main styles: casual (plain jeans, plain shirt, simple shoes), clubbing (which is usually casual due to laziness, just without the jeans), and librarian (mid-calf skirts, knee-high stockings or fishnets, and gauzy blouses or half-way unbuttoned dress-shirts).

I've been leaning towards stocking my wardrobe with more of the last one of late.

Anyhow, mini-derail there.

It was odd and bothersome to have them both say that. I know I... I'm not overtly sexual unless I feel like being so. I'm quite happy with my ability to flip back and forth between friend, slut, and girl to take home to mom.

But I've gotten so used to men like Redwing wanting me that it was odd to hear that he didn't think of me in a sexual way.

Relieving, yes.

But odd.

Even with that mild rejection, though, I still don't find him desirable. Don't have any urge to "prove" myself to him by making him want me. Because that would be nasty. Ick. I don't care how dominant he is in bed, when someone is that socially submissive, it's a no-go.

And it was odd to hear that from C. I mean, this is the girl I writhed next to on the couch while our partners pleasured us.

Of course, I don't think of her as sexual. I see her naked all the time, true. And I see her with a variety of guys. I even help he with some of the guys. I hear her and Redwing making out and groping in bed twice a week.

But she doesn't show up on my sexual radar.

But girls tend not to.

It feels odd. It's so counter to how I see myself. But, then, I've said repeatedly that I go through different roles, socially, and have to control different parts of me when I'm with different people.

It's also strange because, earlier this year, I was convinced that the only leg I had to stand on on a social level was based in sex. And that, if I removed that factor from my socializations, I would stumble and fall because that's what I've had the most experience in and what I've built my life around, though not in the way of having sex as much as studying and observing sex, seduction, and sexuality.

But, to them, that doesn't even feature.

I'm socializing with them and, sure, we're talking about sex and relationships, but there is no actual sex being interjected into it. No flirting, no practiced movements or unspoken goals. Just being relaxed and thoughtful.

So it's good to know that it isn't all that I am, as I sometimes fear.

Back to work.