Oh, hello Gym Guy. Baby, you werk that grey tank top. That’s it. Let me see you stretch those quads. Bend over. Just a little more. Yeah. That’s it.
This was the running commentary going through my head yesterday while I sneaking peeks at Gym Guy. I become a walking How You Doin? gif every time he’s in my vicinity.I wish I could be nonchalant and wave at him or show up at the yoga class he told me he goes to every Saturday. I’m afraid to seem obvious.
Of course, this isn’t how I act outwardly. He’s aware of me. I’m aware if him. But I’m such a chicken shit I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye. Yesterday I looked curvy, toned and athletic in my orange Nike long sleeved top that nipped at the waist and Fabletics leggings. Two of the trainers smiled at me and said hello as I walked the pathway towards the water bubbler to fill my bottle. Out of the corner of my eye – Bam – I saw him. Good thing I had a thick fitted tank top underneath my shirt or else he would have seen my nipples get hard.
The nipple-baring top. This was taken last year.
I do not know how to flirt. I know how to get a guy into bed and I know how to be their buddy. I have no understanding of what it means to play coy and demure. It’s not in my genetic make-up. A commenter asked how one could seduce without flirting. The only explanation I have is that there’s an innocence required to flirt successfully that is unnecessary when trying to seduce someone. A demure approach to seduction is counter-intuitive. Seduction is about power and confidence. My physical presentation helps me along in this regard.I have boobs and an ass and full lips and wild curly hair. These are all features that conjure images of sex and sexual acts. To some degree men think I’m asking for their lewd come-ons just by how I look. Takes these Tinder dip shits, for example:
I used to like being told I was sexy. I still do, but not if it’s being said by a stranger. That person has decided to put me in a box. I’m The chances of me ever escaping that box and being more than a receptacle for his jizz are slim. To them, I am defined not by my character or my mind, but my body. And before some of you say, “But it’s a compliment!” let me stop you. When I was more insecure, I though that, too. Now I know better. When a man I don’t know tells me I’m sexy, what he’s really saying is, “You are a hole and nothing more.” It makes me feel dirty, like I’ve done something untoward. My confidence in those situations is shot. Only with men for whom I have little regard can I be sexually assertive. Those guys will think I’m a slut and I don’t care. I embraced my sluttier side a long time ago. Slutty makes me feel powerful. It’s when I’m around guys I respect and have an established relationship that I feel inhibited. In those cases, their opinions matter. It takes me a while before I can ask a guy like for a facial.
Gym Guy is prime spring fling material if he’s available. You’d think that decision would make our interactions easier, but it doesn’t. He intimidates me to some degree because he’s in better shape than I am and conventionally attractive. If I turn on my sex kitten persona I’ll feel like I’m trying too hard. Whenever i see him he’s usually contorting his body in a position that conjures up images of sweaty nights having athletic, bendy sex that culminates in the both of us lying their breathless and spent.Like, all i can think about when I look at him is sex. That’s it. And yet despite such a modest investment level, I still very much care what he thinks.
Oh yeah, did I mention I got my sex drive back? That was something else depression robbed me of before I went on Wellbutrin. Little by little, my hormones have risen back up to optimum fucking levels and don’t appear to be waning. In fact, I’ve been thinking about going off my meds in the next few months. My energy levels haven’t been this high in years and my good days are outnumbering the bads ones more and more. I did my first yoga class today, which is a big thing for me because normally I prefer to stay to myself when I work out. I entered the class feeling very insecure, like I wasn’t as good as everyone else. As the class progressed and I realized I knew and could hold most of the poses I grew more confident. It was such a good experience that it energized me. I ended up doing an additional 30 minutes of cardio after class. (No Gym Boy, though. He doesn’t work out on Fridays.)
If things stay like this through May or so, I’m going to talk to my doctor about weaning off the Wellbutrin. I was told when I started taking the pills last year that I wouldn’t have to be on them for too long, maybe a couple of years. How long do people normally stay on anti-depressants? Is a year too soon to consider going off of them?