"I feel just like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. You know, except for the whole hooker thing."
It's been too many months since I’ve gotten any action so I am, for lack of a euphemism, extremely horny.
My roommates and I head to a bar and I’m hopeful though not entirely optimistic I’ll meet someone. I’m wearing a little black dress because it’s both cute and machine washable.
We’re standing there, and I find myself making not-so-accidental eye contact with someone who happens to be the doppelganger of the front man of my favorite band and therefore my type physically in every imaginable way. It also doesn’t hurt that he appears at least a decade my senior and therefore potentially a Ph.D. student or, better yet(!), a professor at the local college.
This volley of eye contact continues and my thoughts evolve from a rather bashful I wonder if he’ll come up to me? to a somewhat impatient Uch, I don’t want to be that person who goes home and complains about how shy guys are.
Because I’ve been there, done that. It was called college, and I’m frankly over it, not to mention jumping out of my skin with—again, if there’s a more tactful word, please let me know—horniness. I decide I’ve got nothing to lose and cross the bar.
Pause. At this point, if I were in a movie narrated from the perspective of a male protagonist it’d probably portray me as something of an alluring seductress. Let me assure you that I feel like a complete nerd. Pretty creepy. A little sweaty. A bit drunk. And hoping he doesn’t notice any of this.
Me, bumbling: “Hi. Umm…guess we’ve been making eye contact long enough.”
Him, surprised but not stammering for an exit: “Yeah, guess so.”
Me, surprised he’s not stammering from an exit and therefore unprepared to ask anything else besides: “So are you, uh, single?”
Him, less taken aback than I would have anticipated had I actually anticipated asking that: “I am.”
Me, in one jittery breath: “Oh, OK great well ha I know this is kinda awkward ha but maybe I could give you my number and then leave in case you wanted to throw it away?”
Him, with a little laugh: “No, you should stay. Can I buy you a drink, for your forwardness?”
I very much do not need a drink and tell him so, which I guess feels like the right place to tell you ladies to be careful, responsible, sober-ish, armed, surrounded by friends with Charlie’s Angels skills, etc. I sort of did some of that.
We do the obligatory get-to-know-you stuff, and at some point I shed my outer layer of awkward rando to unveil my alter-ego, rather determined sexual conquistador.
Me, my voice harnessing Sharon Stone circa Basic Instinct, “It’s been nice getting to know you. Listen, do you want to take my number and meet up sometime or not be very classy and come home with me right now?”
Him, just rolling with it: “I’m OK with not being classy.”
Then we left immediately. (Not without my two roommates, who could a.) protect me if anything went awry and b.) split the cab fare.) The rest is both predictable and less important. He’s a nice guy, so I hope he doesn’t feel used.
I’d never gone on a conquest for a one-night stand. I felt young and reckless. Excited. Empowered.
Propositioning a random hookup isn’t for everyone, but maybe approaching guys should be. Either they’ll be flattered and say no because they’re taken or gay or not into you. Or they’ll be flattered and say yes.
You know how people always say, “Be confident. Project confidence”? Well I’m not that confident and can’t really fake it. I’m always honest, like, “Uh, I feel kind of weird about this, but…” You don’t have to lie about that. There’s no need to put on a whole act; he’ll see right through it. Especially if you're me.
How do you feel about Kerry’s story? Have you had any similar experiences? Do you think women should be more assertive in romantic encounters?
source:www.glamour.com
