It's Never as Good as the First Time... Part 2

The comfort and safety of staying in one place - they’re components of what I like to call “static electricity”. Static electricity powers mundane existence and shocks people whose systems naturally resist the blind perpetuating of norms.

I am one of those people.

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That's part of something I came up with while doctoring the last post. I'd been trying to make it more palpable to journalistic minds, as I was attempting to send it in for a contest in the NY Press... And, well, voila! The above excerpt didn't really fit into what I was doing, but it sounded purrty...

And the contest? After careful observation, I've come to the conclusion that the editors are looking for something that isn't me. And that's cool.



It's now been a full three days since I had that conversation with Clairvoyant Symphony, and my lungs are full of mucus. My mind keeps flitting to other topics: finishing up Cloudsplitter so I can return it to Jazz Star Crony, the need to take antibiotics so I can heal once and for all, wondering about blogging and why it's pulled me in.

I'm thinking about the rest of the conversation that I had with CS, and all I remember is saying that I'd "date a 10."

We'd been talking about dating and fucking, and somehow got to the point where CS was saying that all the guys she's fucked have been hot, but a lot of the guys she's dated have been lukewarm, at best.

I agreed; I'd thought that lesser-looking men would try doubly hard to get me off, and for the most part I'd been right. I dated them and fucked them without a second thought. The narcissistic part of me thought that every average-looking guy I slept with should consider themselves lucky; they'd been deigned worthy enough to experience my pussy and (sometimes) my affection.

But what about the hot guys, CS had countered. What about the guys who knew they were hot? The guys who could bag a girl simply by innocuously bumping into her? Would I be willing to date one of them?

CS had done extensive research on the subject, having asked men if they were willing to date a woman who is a 10, and women if they were willing to date a man who is a 10. All of them had hesitated to answer in the affirmative. Fucking a 10 was understandable and legitimate - but dating a 10 seemed stupid.

The logic went like this: As a woman, I know that men are (mostly) dogs and that women are (mostly) shady; so the odds are stacked against me in the first place - why test them? It seems logical that the result of dating a 10 would only be heartbreak. I'd fall for them, they'd play me, and at the end I'd feel bad for having ignored my own advice. Why go through all that?

Better to stay with the less-than-10s, to not trip up the red flags, to live and love safely.

At least, that's what the majority said.

I objected.

I hadn't realized it while I was talking to CS, but I've met men who have started out 10s. Caleb was one of them. He was charming, intelligent, passionate, talented, and oh-so-good-looking. He was the type of guy that girls would fall over - literally.

Being Caleb's girlfriend was a lesson in humility.

Each day, I was reminded that I could be replaced at any moment. Flirtatious come-ons and come-hither stares were directed at Caleb by strangers, and it was easy to get jealous. These women were gorgeous, funny, talented, brilliant people - and they'd obviously recognized the same attributes in Caleb that I had seen.

But then again, I ain't too shabby, either. And Caleb wasn't lost on the idea of losing me to another gorgeous, funny, talented, brilliant person.

Anyway, there I was, with my 10, unabashedly and unhesitatingly cavorting sexually with a real-life 10... Until I wasn't any more.

Long story short, I wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared for a real-life, you-for-me-and-me-for-you relationship. I liked the idea of it, but the reality of it was just too real. So we ended our relationship, and I haven't dated a 10 since.



"But what is this '10' nonsense, anyway?" you're probably asking.

A 10 is someone who satisfies the more blatant and obvious prerequisites of attractiveness: physical good looks, financial stability, status, et al. But more than that, a 10 has those sought-after qualities that you don't realize you want until you see: the ability to make decisions at a split second's notice, the calming effect s/he has on your soul, the hours spent pontificating on the merits of a dual party political system, etc. A 10 has all of those qualities and is rare to find.

So, given that definition, why shouldn't you go after a 10?

According to the people queried by CS, you shouldn't go after a 10 because there's a heightened possibility of loss. If things don't go the right way, not only will you feel bad about yourself for getting dumped (since that's the presumed outcome), but you'll feel worse about it because you didn't listen to yourself in the first place. You'd been telling yourself that this 10 is going to play you for a fool - and look! It's happened!

I say: Why assume that, in the first place? Why assume that you'll be this 10's fool? Why stack the odds against yourself and your possible future from the get-go? It's a self-fulfilling prophesy!

Sure, a pragmatic world-view relies on statistics, and your experience tells you that you'll be left in the dust... But... S/HE'S A 10! DO NOT FORGET THAT!

May I remind you again why this person is a 10?

This person is a 10 because your conscious and your subconscious minds see things in them that are worthwhile. These parts of your brain feel safe about the conclusions they've drawn. They know you and they know what you're like and what you like and what you can handle, and they're screaming at the top of their lungs: "10!"

So why ignore them?

There's obviously something about this 10 that's drawing you in, and you should see where it goes. It's the case with 6s and 7s and 8s and 9s - and to stop yourself from possibly being with a 10 just because they're a 10 seems ludicrous. Following this logic, you're only willing to date people who are less than your ideal - because you're afraid of what may happen if you fall for your ideal. You're afraid of putting yourself out there, becoming completely vulnerable, assuming the role of a susceptible victim, joining the hordes of stupid people who put themselves in a position to get played.

But getting played only happens when you let yourself fall, and letting yourself fall is what happens when you love wholeheartedly. You should let yourself fall for people who are good for you. Otherwise, you're just setting yourself up for pain and resentment.



"It's easier said than done."

I know that old addage and I know that it's true.

There are times when I catch myself ignoring my own advice. In these moments, I'm shying away from opportunities that may be too good to be true. I tell myself that I'd rather preserve the untainted memory of something perfect than fuck with it and possibly disturb my opinion of it.

Then I remind myself that hypotheticals are for writing, and living is for life.

I remind myself that it's just as possible that I fall for an 8 and he cheats on me, than I fall for a 10 and he cheats on me.

I remind myself that I will not regret dating a 10 because I will have looked the possibilities in the eyes and have said, "So what?"

If, at the end, my 10 plays me for a fool - it's okay.

I'll have lived and loved some more, and at the end of any relationship - with a 10 or not - isn't that what we all say, anyway?