Apr 032011

It’s not the flirting that I didn’t like. It’s the little girl.
Okay, she’s not REALLY a little girl, she’s a high-school girl, and although she may look like a woman, she is in reality a couple of years away from being a ‘legal adult.’
That’s not really my issue either.
She’s my daughter’s friend. THAT’S not even my issue.

HERE’S the problem:
I don’t like her. I can’t STAND her. She makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up when she starts talking (always about herself). I’m not ‘jealous’ of her youth, or her beauty, or anything else. I’M ANNOYED BY HER. Anyone who knows me will tell you I like “real” people, and have no tolerance for fakes. Anyone remember Eddie Haskell? She’s THAT type…the I–can-do-no-wrong-look-how-cute-I-am manipulative kid, who, when out of sight of adults shows her true colors. In THIS case she showed her true colors (and then some, it sounds like)  in FRONT OF adults.

I think what angered me so much was to see Whitman taken in by her game. I understand he was intoxicated by the attention, the Spring Break atmosphere, the brown eyes and the brown liquor. I KNOW that feeling. I’m okay with it. I APPRECIATE it, even. It’s a high like no other, being desired (at least in ones mind) by someone young, attractive, and unattainable.

But I’m more accustomed to HIM being the flirtER, always in control of the situation. He’s an incorrigible flirt, and it’s actually one of the things I find so very attractive about him as a man. He’s charming, and irresistible to most ladies. But this girl is an attention whore, and to see him paying her full price, just putting quarter after quarter in her ‘look at me’ machine, letting her think she got one over on the ‘old folks’ made. me. nuts.

We weren’t in a bar or a club; I was CHAPERONING this gaggle of girls. Nobody knows the kinky parts of our relationship, so to the other people in the room this looked like him rejecting me for a teenager. The fawning over her like a drunken fool who’d never had the attention of a woman(girl?) while I sat there watching…?

It was totally humiliating (and NOT in a sexy way) to me and I was embarrassed for him, because the reality is, to those kids, he was just another ‘dirty old man’ and I know that’s not true.

I don’t mind playing along, and I can ride Whitman’s “pervy wave” until he drowns.
Wrong time, wrong place, wrong girl, that’s all.

Apr 022011

I confess.

I flirted with a teenager. And the teen flirted with me. She was “close” to eighteen (okay, slightly Not her, but similarless). She was sexy, with eyes that pulled me in. She kept looking at me, flashing her smile. I kept looking at her. I felt awesome. I felt young and sexy and attractive. My camera clicked a hundred shots that night, most of this her. In one photo she was pulling up her shirt to flash me. She left with her friends, and then came back in alone and pulled her shirt back up exposing her flat stomach, just for me. I reveled in the attention, and so did she.

All this was in front of SexFairy. I flirted like a drunk middle aged idiot (so I’ve been told).  And I liked it. SexFairy didn’t like it at all.     Not…At….All.     But I had had quite a few drinks by then, and hardly noticed. Certainly not enough to care.

Now, to be clear. I didn’t touch the girl. I never saw anything I shouldn’t have. I never did anything, offered anything, suggested anything, made any inappropriate motion of any kind. But it was obvious where my head was at. And the girl didn’t seem to mind either.

Not her, but similarOkay. SO WHAT? So WHAT is SexFairy was very, shall we say, unimpressed. Admittedly, not without some justification. We got into a mini fight later that night and I passed out alone on a porch facing the ocean, only to return many hours later.

Here, on this blog, SexFairy writes “If you want it, I want to do it.” Now of course there are things one should definitely NOT do. But again, I didn’t do anything. What I wanted from SexFairy was to play along with me. To support my flirty-ness, at least after the fact. To ride my pervy wave with me. To tease me about it later.

If you want to be my SexFairy, then be my SexFairy. Give me what I want. When I want. Tease me. Pretend with me. Suggest the sexy, the erotic, the edge. Love what I suggest.

Ride my pervy wave. I’ll do the same with you.

AFTERWARD: This is a post about a real incident that occurred a few weeks ago. I have been wanting to write since it happened but have found it very difficult to express. Even now that it’s written I am not confident I have accurately expressed my feelings. I fear it makes me look like a potential sexual predator (which I am definitely NOT). I want everything with SexFairy, even if sometimes it’s just a mental fantasy to share only with her. And I want her to want the same with me.

Apr 012011

from http://mail.google.com/mail/help/motion.html