How to be Sexier Part I (for Gents): aka ‘Cause Tonight I’m (Not) Fucking You

When I mention that I write a blog on sex and dating, I get a variety of reactions. Some people are simply curious; some are seriously intrigued; and some (so far solely men) appear to assume that this means I will fuck them.

This really pisses me off.

First of all, I have standards and I have my own entire set of things I find attractive. That’s great that I fall into your category, but if you don’t fall into mine, I’m not going to fuck you, so you should probably consider checking in with me before assuming I’m gonna go there.

Secondly, part of what makes a man sexy to me is his awareness of me. Is he present in the moment, paying attention to me? Can he tell that I’m not responding when he touches me lightly? Does he notice when I leave the conversation because I want to talk to someone else?

I had a very weird night the other night. I went out and met an Israeli boy. It was his birthday. In a group toast, I said something about appreciating sex with no strings attached. We talked, he touched my leg, I subtly pulled away and after a moment, removed myself from the conversation. Later, we all went clubbing in a large group, which split, and we were separated – he ended up at a different club.

Later, he came to the club where I was, and to make a long story short, he was quite forward and took me to the dance floor. He continued to be forward, attempting to pull me close, trying to make it happen, while I got increasingly uncomfortable. I was a little drunk and feeling a bit emotionally vulnerable for a variety of reasons, I didn’t know anyone else at the club, and I couldn’t find the friend I had come with. I was not a happy camper. As he pulled me towards him again I also felt a pang of guilt, since it was his birthday and he had clearly “picked” me. But when he tugged me insistently towards him again, trying to wrap his arms around my back, I snapped.

I spent a lot of my adult life working through my FOO issues (Family of Origin), and I’ve come a long way. Even in my drunken state, I connected with that part of me that is rigid and protective and knows how to say NO, regardless of how that will affect the other person. What do I want in this moment? What is MY truth? What does MY body and heart and mind need right now? Fuck everybody else, I thought to myself. I gotta get the fuck out of this situation.

Seriously. Read the signs.

I could have said something aloud and been more gracious about it, but instead I used my body language. I twisted out of his grasp. I looked at him full in the face without smiling. He tried to pull me in again and I pulled away. Once, twice, three times. And I realized in that moment that in fact, I had long since passed the feeling of being flattered. I was now in the land of resentment. I resented this man, this boy, for not picking up my signals. I resented him for not just “getting” it, and for making me spell it out.

If I’d been interested, I would have touched your leg back, all those many hours ago. If I’d been interested, when the group split I would have gone with your half. And if I’d been interested, I would currently be responding when you try to pull me close.

But I’m not, and you didn’t notice any of those things. Which makes me angry.

Upon reflection, the extent to which this angered me was out of proportion to the stimulus. There was no reason I should have felt something bordering on fury. Someone clearly thought I was pretty. He thought I was attractive. It was a compliment.

But I also felt completely unnoticed. He was seeing what he wanted to see, was only focused on what he wanted to do. He chose to ignore the plethora of signals I was giving that demonstrated my lack of interest (and I happen to notice that he did know there was something going on because my friend later shared with me that earlier in the evening when I’d left the conversation, he’d asked her, “What’s with her?”). He had disregarded my input on the matter because my input wasn’t going to lead to his desired output. It had nothing to do with me, which was exactly what pissed me off.

Slurp this, motherf&*r

After a few more twists out of his grasp and my unsmiling face, he got it. “What?” he finally asked. “This isn’t what you said back at the hostel.” Yeah, well, guess what? When I said I appreciated sex with no strings attached, I didn’t mean with everyone all the time! Being open doesn’t mean being open to just anyone, and it definitely doesn’t mean being open 24/7. I’m not a damn 7-11, for Chrissake.

Unfortunately, in the moment I couldn’t think of a good response to this. I was both tipsy and conflicted, which didn’t leave me at my best, so I sort of just stood there lamely, until he finally walked away.

Upon reflection, I actually wish I’d said something earlier in the evening. Like:

“Listen, I’m getting the sense that maybe you’re interested in me, as in hooking up with me, and I have to tell you that I’m torn. I know it’s your birthday and we just met, but I do actually care about you having a fun time. However, I’m not interested in hooking up with you. I fully support you in finding a beautiful, fun girl to have great sex with tonight if that’s what both you and she want, but that’s not going to be me. What do you think?”

I truly don’t know what kind of response I would have gotten. But I can imagine that it would have been better than the rejection he must have felt at a girl literally squirming out of his grasp and then looking at him, stonyfaced, to ensure that he got the message.

Hint: If she's looking at you like THIS, it's all systems go. Mazel tov.

In general, in my opinion, it is the job of men to go after it. But skilled men are also attuned to subtle signals, body language, nonverbal cues. They back off when it’s not happening, and know how to escalate when it is. Yes, I believe that women (myself included) need to communicate more, and be clearer, but I also feel that for a man who’s paying attention, the signals can be pretty clear. Does she seek you out? Does she press against you when you dance? If you go elsewhere for a while, does she follow you – or do her eyes follow you?

The men who’ve had the most success with me have usually been the ones who put themselves out there – made it known they were interested in some way (this is something, by the way, that seems more difficult and scary for American boys for some reason), and then wait for me to come to them a little bit.

I do want to be chased. I enjoy the chase. And I want to be truly seen, observed, attended to. I want him to be able to let me know he desires me and pause long enough to be sure I want him, too. I want a man who knows his core and is willing to extend himself towards me at the same time.

There’s a razor’s edge there. The sexiest men I know, walk it.