I have not slept with that many guys. Sure, I have had my fun, but it has always been with the same few guys. The same idiots that I have been boning since day one are the same asshats you read about now. Maybe I should just move on, find myself some new D, but it’s hard. As much as I hate putting up with guys, I can’t bring myself to let my number rise. I recycle guys. And I hate myself for it.
When I meet a new man, I tease him mercilessly. He’s a slave to my wits. He will do anything I ask. But at the end of the day, unless I can see myself making the monster with two backs with him for at least the next year, he’s never going to get it in. Yet as I smirk at his persistent courting and laugh at his overplayed one-liners, I can’t help but think: am I fucking myself over?
Sure it’s fun to force a guy on his knees for you. Yes, it is an ego boost to watch a guy try so hard for a cookie he will never get, or a cookie he can eat but never penetrate as the case may be, but maybe I am the loser in the long run. Because even as I toss guys aside like they’re a dime a dozen, my eyes blaze when I see them with another girl. When they finally get over my games, I suddenly crave them. It’s something I don’t admit to often, but when I do, I feel ashamed.
Why do I use guys? Why am I contributing to the already wretched stereotype that is young college women? Well, I do it because I need the attention. Simple as that. It’s no secret that guys loose interest as soon as they get what they want. And, being a woman who has fallen victim to a ghosting from a guy I had true feelings for, I can’t help but smirk as self identifying “womanizers” fall head over feet.
That’s wrong, I know. I should never use anyone to raise my own self-esteem or self-worth, but no matter how many times I hear it, I can still justify it to myself. Because as soon as I decide that a boy on my flirtationship roster is worth the tallymark, I sabotage the relationship. I’m so paranoid that he will decide that the wait was petty, that my body wasn’t worth the months (or in most cases, years) of patience. So instead I cut them loose before returning to the arms of boys I know will always be there, because they have proven it time and time again.
But not this year. This year, as I embark on yet another summer fling, I pledge not to play my usual games. Sure I had my first kiss with him a few months ago and have yet to go further, but I am no longer doing that to prove a point. It’s because I am simply not comfortable giving away my body to someone I don’t know.
Instead, I will act purely on instinct. If I develop feelings, I will not cut him off. If I decide the time is right to go further, I will, despite how it would be perceived. I don’t care to be labeled as a slut or tease, but simply as someone who is living the life she wants to live. Wish me luck..
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