Now take a man I know (I know this is way different, but bear with me): I went out with this Guy (Let's call him Guy, but pronounce it the French way. Soft 'g' followed by a long 'eeee.' Try it: "Guy." Isn't that nice? After all, he was an excellent kisser, just scruffy enough and he pulled away at the perfect moment) a few times, then I dumped him. Not hard, no. Ole June just told him that I didn't really think we were compatible. I had fun going out, but in all honesty, he was a brute and a conversation hog when my friends were around. One on one with me? Perfectly charming. But it became a problem later. Oh and Guy drove a shitty car. Not sort of shitty, but very shitty, bad upholstery and a spider crack crawling across the windshield, and he didn't even work full time.
But I digress: I dumped him. He was none too pleased, and tried to talk me out of it. No go, buddy boy. A couple of weeks later, I was checking my email and his little green available button popped up. He IM'd me. And I'll admit it: I was pretty wasted (it was a Sex in the City watching and wine drinking party night), and pretty randy. Not sure how long it took for me to subtly invite him over-not long, though.
Now here's the thing I like about men. Did he once complain that I didn't like him and I was using him for his body when I dumped him and then invited him over for a late night bootie call? No. He hopped right into that godawful jalopy and right into my sateen sheets. Did he think that because I'd let him sleep over that we were 'on again?' No. And did his friends look down on him because I thought I was too good for him unless he had his pants off? I doubt it. Did it hurt his self-esteem to have meaningless sex with someone he was interested in for more? If so, he certainly didn't act like it when he bounced out of my apartment the next morning, whistling Dixie.
Reference: japan-pickup-scene.blogspot.com
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