Let me tell you what I can’t tell you in person — you are one of the most incredible man I’ve ever met.
Incredible not that I want to hump you. Truth be told, the thought had fleetingly crossed my mind now and then, but incredible in such that you’re one of the few stars I’ve ever known in my entire life.
What are stars, others may ask?
Well, stars are people who are simply amazing. You are in their company and you know that they are different from all the other people you know. What’s the best word to describe them?
Like stars, they glow — they just shine.
You, my dear, are a star. I’ve known you are a star since I first met you. I was honestly shocked. How can my best friend (then) would have a little brother who shines as brightly as you do? To my defense, you’re not so little… my age, I believe. A few months older or younger, give or take.
Anyway, you weren’t too tall. Probably my height. You weren’t devastatingly cute, but you were attractive enough. And for the record, I’m not sexually or physically attracted to you then, or even if you ask me seriously enough, now.
Instead, you were one of the few people who got it.
You are one of the most confident men I’ve ever met. Arrogant, sure, but you stroke the balance.
You were smart and knew it.
You knew you were made for better things, and knew it.
You were different, and knew it.
You just exuded confidence.
And people can feel that it wasn’t an act — You really believed you were special. You weren’t one of those insecure people who were merely full of bluster. Instead, you’re one of the most secure guys I’ve ever met.
Too bad we never hooked up.
I wasn’t really your type — you usually went for those women who were easy.
I remember when we went to Plush a few years ago, your one-night stand turned into a two-year stand, while I was stuck with a pleasant visiting lawyer who mistakenly thought I was less liberal than I actually am, and tried to spend his last night in Taiwan with me. You know what’s funny? He’s still kept in touch, and he’s probably reading this blog now.
Anyway, I digress.
Today, you dropped me a note. You do that from time to time, asking me how I am, if I’d like to go back to the Philippines anytime soon, or what my future plans are.
I told you about my MBA plans, a bit about my life, and why I think I can’t really go back to Manila at present.
In return, you told me that you’re now a self-made millionaire (at a tender age of 26), just plunked down a deposit for a porche and dating a model, among other women.
Well Looney, I’ve never really doubted your ability to be successful. How could you be not? You believed in success, worked your arse off and it’s reaping benefits. You emanated happiness and I have no doubt that life then, now and in the future, will treat you well.
You invited me to Australia, and tease that you’ll take me on a real date.
You know, that sounds great! A lot of guys here don’t know how to give girls a good time, and am sure that you are extremely experienced in ensuring that women are wined, dined and loved.
I’m sure you’ll blow my mind away.
You also teased me that you’ll give me a lot of organisms, though I think you meant orgasms. That was funny. Wouldn’t want to have crabs or whatever you may have, but the latter is a nice thought. I hope you use protection especially now that you’re extremely sexually active.
As a bull is attracted to red cloth though, you, and the offer is tempting if you were even half-serious. I’m pretty sure you’re an amazing, generous lover — am sure that a million of ladies will attest to that. And which girl would be crazy to say no to being pleasured?
Now, I know both of us are teasing, and maybe even flirting because that’s what we do best.
However, as we said our goodbyes and I was taking a shower, my mind drifted to parts of our conversation. If you were truly serious and it was even a possibility, would I give your offer consideration?
The answer, is no.
I’ve been reading Neil Strauss’ bestseller, “The Game,” and in the book, they have a term, “one-itis” — an obssession with a girl; pickup artists believe that such an extreme fixation on one woman significantly lowers a man’s chances of dating or sleeping with her.
The protagonist Style mentions one-itis as the feeling you have towards a girl you feel is so special that your hands go clammy, you get nervous, and you want the date to be perfect. It’s the feeling of an emotional high when she does reciprocate, and a devastating no if she does decline.
There’s the feeling of falling in love, the exhilarating moments when you look at that person and your heart just starts melting, and the feeling of really caring for that person that you’d rather be hurt than allow him or her to be hurt.
I sometimes hate that feeling — it makes me vulnerable and I hate being weak. But I also acknowledge the wonderfulness of such extreme emotions.
To love, is terrific.
To be loved in return by the person you really love, wow, then I’ve really died and gone to heaven.
But Looney, I don’t think you’ve felt that.
From my many conversations with you of the girls you’ve dated or slept with, I’ve never felt that you believe any of these women are any special. Even the ex-girlfriend you claimed you’ve loved at that moment, well, where is she now? How easy is it to have discarded someone if you’ve loved her as much as you said you did…
So yes, you make other men green with envy.
Who else would be as attractive and charming to women left and right? “I’ve never had a dry season,” you boasted to me one lazy Sunday afternoon. And I believe you.
You attract women as ants are drawn to honey.
I’m attracted to the idea of you too. Don’t think of me immune to your charms because I’m not.
But I will most likely not sleep with you (assuming that I do), not because I want to, though I am indeed curious what it would be like because I am looking for something else.
I don’t need a fling, or just a good time.
If I wanted that, it wouldn’t be too difficult to get that in Taipei — I’ve had enough bankers, entrepreneurs, or wealthy-enough men who drift in and out of my life to ensure that I have a good time, if only for just an evening or two.
However, I am looking for someone who can treat me as his one-itis.
Someone who think I’m the world, and treat me as such.
No matter how wealthy, successful, and attractive you may be, if you sleep with me, you will see me as a girl among a billion women that you meet and devoured.
I would just be another notch on your bedpost, a conquest.
I will be no special than that model you’re having a complicated relationship with, that Lithuanian woman you’re going out with a fun date with tomorrow, that Australian who you sometimes call for a booty call…
If that is how I will be treated, I’d rather be your friend, and just a friend. Sometimes, it’s better to be a guy’s friend and be valued and respected, instead of someone he’s been with, and is hoping to get away from.
Sure, I know if I visit, I’ll definitely have a great time, but then again, we can have a fantastic time without the sex, and there should be more amazing times to come. Otherwise, it would be a few night stands and bye bye baby.
Some of the readers are shocked to see how bold I sound in this entry. Usually, I speak so high and mighty in my blog, assuring them of my conservativeness and strict values, but then again, do note that such honesty only exist in my head. Hence, most of what I’ve written contain tons of assumptions, one of which is you’ll never get to read this letter, and a lot of “ifs” are written here. Rhetorical assumptions, I must say.
I will not mail you this entry. What for? I do value your friendship though, and as I’ve said, we were teasing and flirting earlier to actually elicit a serious response to the invitation.
However, this reminds me of me when I re-read this entry a few years from now, if I do continue to write.
I will remember that I knew somebody like you, and that your sunbeam has shown on me for a brief moment.
By then, I hope that I am with someone who treats me as his one-itis, not just one of the many women he’s dated and conquered, but someone who is as vulnerable with me as I am with him.
Outside, the wind is breezy, the curtains white and bright, sand outside and we are just relaxing that late morning. Coffee brews and the smell is intoxicating.
We would be cuddling in bed, and he looks at me with loving eyes, kisses my nose and tells me how lucky he is to have me. I know that it goes both ways — as he says these words, I am also lucky to have him.
This reminds me again of the Rose and the Little Prince.
Do you know that story? It’s a favorite book of mine by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.
SimpleGuy said last weekend that the garden of roses remind men that there are still many fishes in the sea. But I share with him that the story of the Little Prince and his rose is a story of recognizing what is special and what is ordinary.
I can be dating someone who may not be a self-made millionaire with a Porsche like you, but at least I know that he will never replace me with any model or woman he’s met in a conference.
As they say, “To the world you are someone…to someone you are the world.”
I am his, and he mine.
If that guy ultimately would be you, wonderful.
Otherwise, no matter.
But I deserve that.
And would settle for nothing less.
Hopefully, you too can find that special someone who think the world of you, and you not only agree, but you also think the world of her.
Only then will I believe that you are truly happy.
I’m proud of you, sweetie. Regardless on what happens, you are very special in my life, and we wish us both happiness!
Cheers and hugs,
2 thoughts on “Dear Looney,”
so you finished reading The Game.
Now try this
Interesting stuff. Thanks Flute!