We came up with a way to prevent betrayal if it happens: don’t flirt.
Well, that is, when hormones are raging, when you are physically attracted to someone, do not take any action. Do not communicate, do not meet, do not meet eyes, do not touch, and especially do not joke with the object of your adoration.
After some time, the hormones release, the mind again takes control of the body, you come to your senses, and again you want only your lover.
Am I writing scary things? Did you think everything was perfect with us? No one is without clouds, don’t believe otherwise. If we didn't have penises or clitorises, and we floated like angels in the sky, then perhaps fidelity could be absolute.
And so, unfortunately, all that remains is to take responsibility and be the cause of your own happiness, to control the genitals, tongue, eyes, arms and legs.
Those who know how to curb their thoughts cause me special admiration. If among you, my readers, there are such people, please respond, just be honest about how it works out for you and how long it lasts. I'm using this as a life hack in my new book.
If you are frigid, then the answer will not count, it’s easier than ever to remain faithful.
“10 guys in a year and no one worth it.”
Are we whores or actively searching? How to figure it out when you are looking for an ideal partner, the hero of your novel, someone with whom you will live a happy life, start a family, and on the way you meet only perverts, mama’s boys, jealous house builders and Don Juan Casanovas.
If we see a handsome, smart, kind guy who is free, then we immediately take a step forward so that he notices us. Then we get to know each other better, go on dates and…
Instead of discerning in it a discrepancy with other parameters, we begin to invent and assign non-existent advantages to it. We meet further, sleep. And one fine day the masks fall off, the veil disappears from our eyes, and voila, what we have in front of us is completely different from the one we mentally pictured.
We get upset, but don’t learn the lesson, but move on and step on the same rake. Once, twice, three times, and now for the tenth time this year, the gentleman turns out to be a complete asshole, for whom you dyed your hair.
Are you laughing?
These are all true stories. They happened not only to me, but also to my friends.
So, everything in order.
First, I'll tell you about my searches.
After I realized that Dima was no longer interesting to me, I decided to expand the parameters and narrow the category.
I wanted to meet a rich, successful, non-drinking man who would be attractive to me.
The perspective shifted towards the financial component, and I literally walked on the line between a mercantile bitch and a decent romantic.
Every single day, I went out as if on a podium and scanned my surroundings for the presence of such a man.
I hoped to meet my fate daily, hourly. My wardrobe has expanded significantly, going out has become regular, and my makeup and hairstyles have become closer to the desired look. Not to say that I became a Yves Saint Laurent model, but I learned to look stylish – that's for sure.
My guide to finding an ideal was the heroine of the American TV series Carrie Bradshaw. I recommend it to every emotionally mature woman to watch. But if you are not stable and want to take revenge on someone, like I did then, then it is better to take the advice of Carrie and her friends as fiction and watch everything to the end. This is the only way morality becomes visible.
Otherwise, you risk applying the wrong tool to the wrong situation.
What did I do, where did I go wrong? Very simply, I decided to take as a model of behavior the numerous acquaintances of the heroines, and not how to correctly identify a person while not being so close to him.
If I could smell a catch a mile away, I wouldn’t even start a relationship. If I, like these girls in the last episodes, could see genuine feelings and a real person, sincere, purposeful, then I would simply sweep away all the chaff and not fuss until I met my husband one day.
But, there is a flip side to such suspicion and distrust – to turn into a “prosecutor” who does not trust anyone, and poor men are so exhausted from courtship that they really begin to act weird.
For example, my friend Sonya, a midwife at the maternity hospital, stern and prim with men and humorous, occasionally touchy with girls.
Don’t put your finger in her mouth, let her mock her sarcastically. She was only twenty-three when I watched her “search” for a life partner. She did absolutely nothing. Ah, I remembered, I cried at night. But nothing.
Initially, her belief that everyone lies, cheats, abandons and betrays gave her some self-confidence. Then it became an obsession; she could not carry on a normal conversation without grinning at any romantic or positive remark.
– He loves me.
– Yeah, like a cat gets a new sneaker. As soon as he pees himself, he will fall in love with a new one.
That's about it. Or like this:
– Look what a wonderful day it is today. It's time to meet some handsome guy.
– And pick up the clap.
Well, everything is like that. So funny during the day and sad at night.
It looks like she knew that the hero of her novel was waiting for her somewhere, and therefore did not scatter her attention and was not scattered on the “unworthy.”
This actually deserves respect among women and men. There was one catch, she wasn't pretty at all. Large facial features, a boxer's stoop, which results in low chest and a small tummy. And she would have waited until she turned gray for her betrothed, if one fine day she had not slowed down. It’s good to be strong if there are actually enemies all around. But fortunately, most people are positive, only a handful ruin everyone's life.
Sonya began to preen herself, loosen her long braid more often, and exchanged her glasses for contact lenses. I finally changed my anger to mercy. Apparently crying at night really tired her out.
How was this expressed? Sonya began to coo to everyone, only occasionally making fun of them.
Since she did not change her clothes (all the same auntie’s blouses), men did not develop the image of a sexy woman. They began to see her as a woman, but not for easy flirting, but for a serious relationship.
Thin? Crazy. I admire her idea. She quickly found herself a husband and has been living with a handsome man for a long time.
I couldn’t apply it to myself then. My sexuality and cooing were turning into something else.
In a society of men, such an image does not arouse the desire to get married.
You can't look your best, attract a ton of attention and not be a bitch. Then you will be considered a woman of easy virtue.
If you are beautiful and sexy, then in order to save yourself for your husband, you must be modest or ulcerous. Modesty is also attractive, and everyone can fall for it.
I remember poor Inna, a classmate who was courted by Ivan in high school. She couldn't turn him off because it would ruin her image. She went on all the dates, politely refused intimacy, which he perceived as modesty accordingly.
All this disgrace lasted about a year, until Inna realized that she was losing the opportunity to date someone cool.
And then the dam burst, as they say.
– Vanya, leave me alone.
– Why?
– I don’t love you! -How?
– I never loved.
– But why didn’t you tell me?
– I was afraid to offend you.
– What a bitch you are!
Do you see? Either way, bitch. It would be better if she immediately told him that he was not her type, she would not have lost a year of her life.
С'est la vie. Alas, in order not to be branded as a priestess of love in male society, it is necessary not to combine sexuality with cooing. Or do it so skillfully that a mosquito won’t hurt your nose. Namely, to remain at a distance, not to allow close physical contact until some promises are fulfilled.
Or learn to refuse and behave directly, if you are a beauty, of course.
If you have problems with your appearance, be sexy in your communication.
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