Sunday, 31 October 2010

Ch-ch-changes

Do you know what it is like to wake up one day and find yourself desirable?
Do you know what it is like to never have any one give you a passing glance, and then suddenly the eyes stray your way in a "I want to eat you alive" glance?
Do you know what it is like to have lived the majority of your life being told you're not beautiful, that no one will find you attractive, standing on the outside of the gorgeous crowd, staring in and wondering what it feels like to smoulder sensuality??

This was my life. I lived on that outside border, always curious about how the sexy girls (and guys) behaved at their parties, romping around with their drinks, casually bumping hips, exchanging heavy glances across the rooms, perfectly coiffed hair and clothes that hugged all the right places.

I was told I would look beautiful if I just lost weight.
So I did.

They were right. I do look beautiful--maybe not beautiful per se, but cute at least--and last night attended one of those parties, romped around with my drink, exchanged those glances with a couple guys, and even though my hair didn't stay in one exact place all night--head banging to Bon Jovi kinda throws that out of the window--I realized that I'm now one of those girls who can beckon with her eyes and receive what she wants.

They say it's the boobs and legs...big boobs, thighs that can be grabbed onto, curvy hips...their eyes were lingering all night, and like the few times before, instead of feeling violated by it, because I've been so starved from these attentions all my life, I treasure and maybe encourage those looks.

Does it make me slutty to desire the attention, the looks, the casual hand graze on the ass?

I guess it's all in what we want as a whole, not what we want temporarily. I know that right now I'm satisfied with grabbing someone and spending a few hours breathless, but as for the future: I want more than just the wild parties where I'm the girl that guys want but don't take home.

Even so...though I do have that awareness of wanting more, I like when I sit on a chair next to a stranger and he smiles as me, his eyes dropping down from my eyes to other places. I smile back and we both know what we want. I have no problems propositioning him with a sweet "do you wanna make out?"
He laughs and says, "I don't kiss. I just get down to business, make you come hard, and that's it. There's no frills attached."
I like the kissing part and I say so.
"It just complicates things," he says shaking his head.
Both, I insist. Kissing and fucking, hand-in-hand, and I lean in closer to him.
He laughs again and stands up, walks out toward the room door, and I feel unsurprised that my blatant come ons are rejected. There are hotter girls at this party.
But he turns around and says, "I'll be back" and maybe saw some doubt behind my bravado because he pauses for a chat with another group of people in the room and then returns.
"This is how I kiss", he prefaces, and leans down and bites my bottom lip in a smooth motion that churns my stomach.
And I'm elated that even the cynical guy, whose stubble makes him look like a Prison Break character, even he can't resist these charms, these legs and lips, and boobs. He walks away again but I can feel those eyes on me for the rest of the night.
I don't care about him. I just like the power of knowing he wants me.

I'm also drunk so it seems normal to have people slapping my ass or rubbing my thighs all night.

I'm now standing in front of a guy and his "lady friend" is perched beside him on the couch. There's no doubt about it...we're all drunk but even so, when he reaches up and slides his hand up my dress to my ass, I'm surprised. The girl stands up pissed off, and I apologize right away. I'm genuinely startled at the reception I've gotten in this maid outfit. I back away out of the room, teetering on my three inch heels, and sit down in a quiet corner to think.

She makes her way over to me and reassures me. It's not your fault, the Day boys are grabby. She's clearly more upset at the fact her guy is so nonchalant about feeling up another girl in front of her.

Not the classiest party I've been to, but hopefully there will be more, and I've learned my lesson. If you're wearing a dress (costume or not), do the bend over check before you leave the house. I definitely exposed far more of myself than I'm comfortable with, in the sober daylight.

What is it like to look fuckable?
It's a door opened, a completely different room, and hopefully there is a fire escape or second exit in case things spiral out of control.

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