When meeting new people, I can usually pretty quickly decide whether I find these people interesting or not.
Recently, however, I got puzzled when I met this one boy at a party. He was a friend of a friend, goofy, easy-going and quite a charmer. We had a good time: he was obviously hitting on me, and I was interested. I could've easily been sold, but I was bothered by his reputation: he’d slept with more girls than an average bus can carry, and it was no secret.
I was slightly repelled by the fact – and yet, at the same time, I was intrigued by the other side of the story: rumor also had it that he was simply great in bed. Bang.
Although I had a lot of fun with him, I couldn’t decide if I should be flattered or degraded by his attention. So, when the bar closed, we ended up in an awkward afterparty with some very random people. As the sun started to rise, it was time to decide whether to go big or to go home. I couldn’t chase off the uneasy feeling, and so I decided to head home – alone.
The next day, after a long, sunny picnic with friends and some champagne, in my decreasing day-drunkenness and craving for some closeness, I came to question my decision. A reputation is just a reputation – stories and rumors – so why should I be so much affected by what other people seem to think, instead of relying on my initial reaction?
And right then, I was interrupted in the midst of these speculations and my favorite intimacy substitute Häagen-Datz by a surprising call from my regular/irregular bangbuddy.
I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but the moment I decided to answer to the phone, it came clear to me that it wasn’t the charmer himself I had been interested in last night, but only the chance for some physical action. Reputation matters, it seems, as I was suddenly so happy I hadn’t become his latest conquest.
The guy came to pick me up by a cab, and as we drove to his place, I already forgot about the charmer.
Post by Jo
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