Reboot. Episode 10 Prey


I never regretted giving in to my married lover Mister Big. Here’s why.

On our last date, Mister Big casually mentioned something about “chasing” me, before I finally gave in. And although he was obviously saying it as a joke, that I was so difficult to convince to have sex with him that he had to give it his all, I was triggered by that one word.
“No,” I said, slow but certain.  “You didn’t chase me. You behaved in a way that got you the girl but you didn’t move. That’s what made it so smart. You didn’t move at all.”
A friend later said all predators have different hunting tactics, for different prey. And she asked me; “Do you think he knows what he’s doing?”
But I shook my head.
No, he doesn’t.
It’s instinct.
He is just as incapable of explaining how he got the girl, as the lion explaining how he got the buffalo. I mean on a basic level he knows. Because he thinks what he does it really simple and easy. But he doesn’t understand that he’s actually constantly adjusting his technique based on signals he knows how to read. And that it goes even deeper. That it’s not his modifications, his being agile and capable of shifting gears, techniques, ways to approach her, that’s getting him the girl.
It’s the connection itself.
He flirts with a woman giving her his full attention.
In that sense he is right, in not being able to explain it. Because his hunting skills, much like the lion’s, are only the result of being tuned in to the woman.
They’re not a success formula in itself.
But either way the word “chasing” implied to me, a forward moving action. To which I would have responded a hundred percent negative. As a lot of women would. Because all prey, animals and women alike, are wired to detect motion. And I do understand the hunting/flirting comparison has tremendous pitfalls and downsides but I m just going to use the parts that overlap. We (prey) have radars that scan for danger. But our radars can only detect movement.
We can also visually identify a potential predator- but if he holds still and doesn’t move, a “false alarm” signal will soon follow. Because the conclusion (that it’s a threat) is not backed up by our motion detector, by our radar.
I assume female radars are all set at different levels, but mine really closes the gates, pulls up the bridge, and aims the canons just in case, as soon as a man makes a move that I interpret as chasing or hunting.
If a man makes a move, for example getting me a drink, we engage in conversation, he asks me over to his house, even while having sex, he must at ALL TIMES express superior confidence, and self-control. Even the word “express” suggests too much movement to my taste.
He simply is calm and confident.
He must never, ever, chase anything, or we’re back to square one with me throwing him out of the castle and pulling up the bridge.
I told a friend that even though I myself was totally unaware of my own feelings for Mister Big – a married business man who had nothing to offer except his company at times when he chose to make himself available to me – there were signs that I liked him and signs that me rejecting him would not go down the way it had with other men.
The most important sign I liked him was that I talked about sex with him. I talked about it in detail, detail I had not told anyone, about what my deepest desires were.
He didn’t hold completely still either, in the sense that he was speechless or impressed or something. He smiled, implying he liked what I was thinking. He made a joke. But nothing in his response implied that he was particularly experienced, skilled, or knowledgeable on the subject of sex.
And he certainly did not suggest, that he was going to do those things to me. Nor did he lean over and confide in me that if I was so interested in sex, he could teach me a thing or two. That he had some tricks up his sleeve, that he would show me, if I would choose him.
Wink wink.
Good God!
Unfortunately that example was not even fictional. That was something that happened on a date with a man trying to impress me by moving forward, leaning in, seducing me with his sexuality. All things I do not respond well to.
I was taken aback myself about all the things I had told him. At this point I had no idea I was attracted to him. In my mind I had just spilled my darkest side, all the things I was probably going to hell for just for thinking about them and I was never going to get my fantasies fulfilled because they were despicable AND because I didn’t like the men who offered to initiate me in an almost teacher-apprentice kind of way – spilled all those things, to a stranger. A married stranger, who I did not want sex with because I did not feel attracted to him. By telling him all these things, I had crossed the lines of common courtesy and human decency.
I didn’t even want to think about how badly this would end.
I had gone through so many male friends who I had turned down, because they just didn’t get the message I had told them beforehand;
That I wasn’t interested.
That it was just a friendship thing.
That I wasn’t looking for sex.
That I did not feel attracted to them.
I told my friend yesterday;
“Somehow, men think that because they have feelings for you, you must have feelings for them. And I m all irritated like: TRUST ME! You would know if I did!”
She shrugged and answered;
“Exactly. You wouldn’t even be talking if you felt the same way. You’d be having sex.”
My friendships with men always included having rejection talks, and usually the guy did not take it well and would remind me time and time again, I had rejected him. Work that into our conversation over and over. Until I was tired of it, and told him our friendship was not going anywhere if he couldn’t get over his rejected lover status.
And here I was.
Deeply involved in sexual conversation with a man I did not want to have sex with. I was prepared for the absolute worst. This would not go down well. Not if there had been other men,  who had made such a huge drama of being rejected when I had not been sexually explicit at all. When my mixed signals had been nothing more than a smile or kindness.
Mister Big made a joke.
He smiled.
I can’t even remember exactly what he did but it was sweet and easy going.
And when I told him I was a bit ashamed of being so, dark, he kept responding in that unremarkable yet comforting manner. Like I said; I can’t remember exactly what, that’s how totally low-key it was. I just remember how it made me feel.
That he was okay with me being dark, or whatever I thought I was.
That he was not shocked, just amused and that he was enjoying the conversation.
At the end of the night, I just wanted to get this whole thing over with. Me having given off not even mixed signals, but HELL YES! signals…. I felt terrible, but it had to be done.
I couldn’t leave him hanging there.
We were saying our goodbyes, and I took a deep breath and said; “Listen. I told you this at the beginning of our date. I m not into you. Do I need to repeat that?”
He cut me off.
You could even say that he did so in a violent manner.
It was certainly determined.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.
I did.
“So did I. Then there’s nothing to talk about.”
Yesterday, when I told this story, my friend was speechless.
“Wow. He refused to be rejected by you.”
He did.
And shortly after we had our first kiss, which by the way he started. Something I can’t get over gushing about. For almost a decade I had been the one who made the first move. Guys were just so slow. And I  couldn’t blame them, since I responded so violently to them making a move. That mister Big managed to be slow, easy going, and quiet, yet knew exactly when the moment, SECOND, had come when I wanted to be kissed (and no, it wasn’t at one of those cheesy saying goodbye moments either); that took my breath away.
This man had the masculine stillness I had longed for, for years. Yet when he moved, he did so in tune with the desires that were hidden in the deepest layers of my brain. Not the outer surface where I was still over-analyzing it.
He knows me better than I know myself. Right from that first rejection talk, to the first kiss, to doing with me the dark things that I listed out for him on our first date. Always the same recipe, of being calm, understanding, and funny. Yet knowing exactly when to leap.
Maybe Mister Big was right.
Maybe he did chase me.
Because he sure as hell caught his prey.

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Did you like this post?
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All these stories are autobiographical! And they go a lot further into detail than the diary post above.  you can get these hot stories here.

And I ve also written about Big in my previous post HERE

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