Monday, June 29, 2009
I feel an overwhelming urge to flirt. I want to taunt and tease, present myself, parade myself, make men think they can have me, and then lure them to their destruction.
I was playing on craigslist again this weekend. I truly wonder why I do it. I toss out these clever little posts, like bright and confusing homemade flies designed to lure the fish to the hook. I tell myself I'm looking for love. Or at least a boyfriend. Or at least someone to date. But I know that, in the end, they will never be good enough, none of the men I catch will be good enough. There is always something wrong and I stop trying to hold their interest or I just stop answering. One way or another they drift away.
I advertise for someone who won't bore me. And they always end up boring me. Because in the end, they are not what I want.
They are not the philosopher.
And they are not the sadist.
I don't say this with sadness. It is a very matter-of-fact statement. The philosopher... well there, enough said, I loved him, I still do I suppose. As for the sadist, my tormentor, my inspiration, my owner and my demon muse... you just have to take my word for it. The man reeks charisma. It drips all over the floor, he should have women with mops following him around, they would gladly follow him around, they'd gladly clean up the trail of charismatic cum he leaves behind. It's odd, I can't pin it down, but there it is. And as odd as our relationship is, I am truly not ready to do anything to jeopardize it.
Oh, if I were smart, I'd be on a safari for a boyfriend. A man no older than 50, healthy, financially secure, at least a little sexy. I probably have another year or so before I start showing true signs of aging. There are all sorts of ways to be a whore, and if I were smart I would be selling my body and my soul for security in my advancing years.
But since this is my last shot, these next couple of years, I don't want to look back and remember being cautious. I want to flirt and flaunt and lead men to lose themselves in lust. It makes me tingle. It makes me feel sexier and sexier. It makes me feel I am serving my Master by discovering that I am indeed what he says I am - an unbearably sexual creature made to feed men's desires.
Well, he says I'm made to satisfy men's desires. And when I am serving him, that's what I will do. But on my own, I will tease them and taunt them and frustrate them, which will delight me such that I will stand naked on the rocks and display my nakedness to the sea and the sun and sing my songs of randomly fucking and lure all the ships to their doom.