16 June 2011

Manipulate This


I've never been very good at meeting boys. Whether I'm attracted to them or not, men generally intimidate me. However, there was one summer back in 2008 when I had a surge of success. For the first time, I had asked a boy out and he said yes. Although that particular date never actually happened, hearing that word had given me enough courage to approach a guy on the occasion and ask him to go out with me...or simply hook up.

One night, I actually went out to a bar by myself, and managed to find enough familiar faces and meet a few new ones so that it wasn't at all awkward. I couldn't help but notice that a friend of an acquaintance was insanely hot. Way too hot for me. Well-built latino boy, perfectly coiffed hair, smelled amazing. Normally I would cower in fear, but apparently I had drank enough that I had no problem sidling up to him and trying to strike up a conversation with him. Emphasis on trying, because believe it or not, he was the one being shy. I could barely evoke a single word from his mouth. It felt like an act, but it was still frustrating.

I wasn't about to give up when I was putting forth so much effort. After he shied away, I gave my number to his friend, and said "Here...give this to him when he mans up".

I left the bar and called a friend of mine, and told him how the night had unfolded. He was apparently familiar with this guy (I won't tell you his name but I wish I could because it's the douchiest name in the world) and was not a fan. He told me not to get involved with him, and I reassured him I was on my guard, and I'd probably never hear from him again. I Facebook-stalked him when I got home: He was totally that guy who had a shirtless iPhone snapshot as his main pic. The view was nice, I won't lie, but this made me even more certain he would never call. Those kinds of guys never talk to me.

But sure enough, the next day he texted me. He didn't seem to remember me instantly, but I also got the impression he liked playing hard to get. Immature, yes. I didn't care much at the time. Honestly, I just wanted to tap it. We swapped pics and this sparked his memory.

We went out later that night, and it was fine. It didn't seem we had much in common, but I think motives were clear to all parties at this point. He continued the hard-to-get games with refusing to kiss me on the first 'date'. He would touch me, hug me, nuzzle me, and growl in my ear, but would not let our lips touch. This turned me on like you would not believe.

As we talked throughout the night, certain things he said seemed a little sketchy. Or rather, the opposite of sketchy. He seemed like he was trying to portray himself as a much more straight-edge person than he was. As much as I wanted to believe he didn't do drugs (anymore) and always practiced safe sex, I was skeptical. But I played along. It was funny because for once, I felt like I was the one in power. He seemed to think he was manipulating me, but only fooling himself instead.

We hung out a few times over the next couple of weeks. He came over one night, and we snuggled and watched movies. It was a good time, but I knew it would never be love when he found my copy of "The Laramie Project" and asked me who Matthew Shepard was. Deal breaker. But I pushed on. I just needed to get him naked once so I could move on.

Another night, we were out at the same bar where we met, with the same people he had been with that night. They had apparently discussed a multi-bar agenda for the evening, but when the time came to migrate, the others had no desire to leave. My guy through a hissy fit and left my by himself without warning. I was left behind, completely confounded. I sent him a text message:

Me: "Um, bye?"

Him: "You said you wanted to stay."

Me: "So you leave without saying anything?"

Him: "I told them what the plan was. If they want to stay, fuck 'em."

Me: "So do you you throw a tantrum like this every time something doesn't go your way?"

Him: "Whatever. Bye."

Classy. Clearly he was a control freak who was starving for power. By this point, I had already had my fill, and even though he showed up to the bar again later that night, that text message was the last time I ever spoke to him.

Point of the conversation: If you think someone's way too hot for you, it's entirely possible that he doesn't, but it's likely that there's something else equally fucked up about him.

- Lucas

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