2.05.2013

Desired.



Adjective: wanted intensely. 

Doesn’t everyone want to be desired? Personally I think desire can be attributed as an important missing component in many long term relationships. Once upon a time you clearly desired one another more than anything else in the world, but after you have grown to be comfortable with each other, how many couples actually maintain the desire? I hope that two people who choose to be together do desire each other for the rest of their lives, but do they continue to show it and feel it from each other? Evidently, this is a huge relationship fear of mine...
All that to say, that sometimes even though I am sure nothing will come of it, I humor those who show desire towards me. So as not to make myself seem like a complete bitch, let me explain myself. I admit to stereotyping, but I cannot help but believe that the majority of males approaching girls at clubs want one thing. Therefore I rarely take these guys seriously, unless they impress me with the first words that come out of their mouth (which is a rarity). Occasionally it happens that you in fact hold a strong sexual attraction to that person standing in front of you speaking out various lame compliments.
This is precisely what happened Saturday night. I can be sure that the alcohol played a significant role, as well as the intense eye contact. Let's not forget to mention, and if you know me you will understand, that he was Moroccan. Me + alcohol + intense eye contact + attractive Moroccan male = disaster waiting to happen. And then he threw out a lame compliment about my eyes and I became weak at the knees.  Damn you vodka. So I amused the kid (and myself), and yes I mean kid because although I do not remember his name (did I even ask?!) it is clear in my mind that he was only twenty four years of age. Age is not something I forget. So for the time period between one and three AM I ignored the fact that his desire for me was probably only to take me home. Instead I accepted his compliments and spent that time dancing as sexy as I possibly could after consuming so much alcohol. In reality, let’s be real, I probably looked like a drunken fool. I know this for a fact because I proceeded to go home and puke up wine, vodka and sushi in my bedroom garbage can because I could not manage to coordinate my spinning head with my drunken body to get out of bed. Now imagine that same head and body dancing.

To the Moroccan boy who pretended to like me for two hours Saturday night, who acted interested as I danced around aimlessly, who kept me company when I lost my friends and who waited in line with me to get my jacket, I am sorry I then ran away from you not even allowing you the chance to at least try to take me home. I apologize if you think I led you on in any way, perhaps I did, but everyone deserves to be selfish once in awhile. But most of all, I apologize in advance if I ever see you again because unfortunately, I don’t think I would remember your face.
Merde.

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