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CouchPounce #1
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CouchPounce #1 I have an inside joke (with myself) that women know only one active seduction technique. Because that's all they need. Subtle seductions, where she gets the man to make the moves by making him think it was his idea, are (I imagine) where the fun is, where the challenge is. Too subtle, the poor clueless schmuck doesn't even notice. Too forward, he gets spooked and weirded out and bolts. Men and women both like to pretend that men are simple, "only after one thing." Few of us want to admit the absurd, fragile masquerade that masculinity really is, the playacting, the overgrown five-year-old pretending. And here I started out thinking I was going to write something light and fun... The CouchPounce: Step 1) Get the man drunk Step 2) Get the man on a couch Step 3) Pounce I'm a particularly clueless specimen of the male variety. Women bring to bear the full force of their seductive powers on me, and I fail to notice. (In all fairness, when I bring the full force of my so-called seductive prowess to bear on a lady, she usually doesn't notice either... but I think that also says more about me than it does about women) Women either give up, or they keep trying until they give up, or they eventually turn to the CouchPounce, which has yet to fail. The first time was L., who was an internet acquaintance, a friend-of-a-friend, who wanted a place to crash while visiting DC. I offered her the fold-out couch in the living room of the group house I shared with three other guys. One of the guys worked at an art gallery, and was housing an art project for a friend of his: headless mannequins in spanish dresses. They shared the living room with the couches. In hindsight, I wonder whether L. had come out to DC with the express intention of seducing me. She later admitted that she decided to try on first seeing me at the airport, but how much the possibility inspired her to come out east...? In any case, I never thought it was a real possibility. My failure with women vs my cluelessness around women is a true chicken vs egg puzzler. Regardless, both were in full effect at the time. I'd moved to DC from the Boston area on the heels of a spectacular romantic failure I needed to escape (a later, eerily similar failure was the impetus for my move to Chicago). I regarded all of her flirtations with me, from the subtle to the not-even-remotely-subtle, as a kind of cruel teasing that I refused to rise to. The first night she begged to sleep in my room, claiming that the mannequins would give her nightmares. After all her rib-pokes and tickles, I refused expressing fear that she'd attack me in my sleep. The second night she complained of stiffness from the fold-out mattress... which somehow turned into her giving ME a shoulder rub. She sat on my lap facing me, with her cleavage right at eye level, explaining that this allowed her to use eight strong fingers instead of two weak thumbs to knead the knots. I made a lap-dance joke, which lead to her writhing a bit on my crotch. And through it all, I never considered that she might be doing anything more than tormenting me for her amusement. After the shoulder rub she sat next to me on the couch and asked: "So, what do you want to do now?" "I don't know." Reader, she did not believe me. I hope that you will. I affirm to this day that I really had no sense of where I wanted the evening to proceed. "Oh, I think you do..." "Do you? Really, I don't." And then she was atop me, her tongue in my mouth. A reconstruction of my internal dialogue: Whoa, what's happening here? Is this...? OK, yeah, she's kissing me. Is that...? OK, yeah, she has her tongue<b> pierced. </font></b>That feels... interesting... is this really what I want to be doing right now? I mean, I guess I could push her off me if it isn't... but I think I'd really have to dislike what was happening before I went to that extreme... and I don't really dislike this... as a matter of fact, it's kinda nice... OK, I'll go with this... So the rest of the week she slept in my room. Good times. Last I heard she got married, but that was years ago. Lost touch completely. |
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