I'm a lovely girl, smart and hot (everyone says so). However, I'm a bitch that loves having sex. On top of this, I am constantly fucking falling for wrong guys while the good ones are chasing me all around. First, I can't forget my booty-caller ex-boyfriend — fucking good sex. Second, when I get drunk, I go for girls. Third, before even getting hurt, I jump to the next relationship. Thus, I get whoever I want, but I really don't know what I want and if they really want me? I'm a fucking confused lovely fucker!
— Help Me
Hmmm. I don't want to point out anything, you know, obvious, Egolina, but you used "I" 12 times in a short paragraph (not to mention four "fucks").
Jesus, do you take a bow every time you hear thunder? A few weeks of rubbing Anal-Eze desensitizing cream on your ego should clear things up. In the meantime, you'll have to forgive me and most of my readers for not feeling sorry for you. If there's one thing that burns my ass more than a three-foot flame, it's a beautiful person complaining that she can get whatever and whoever she wants.
Ah, but the irony of it all. Most people are lonely because they can't get anybody; you're lonely because you can get everybody. And you are lonely — and a little bit empty. Otherwise, you wouldn't have written.
I think, actually, you're suffering from performance anxiety. You describe your love life in almost theatrical terms: You take the stage, the spotlight's always on you and everybody else is a bit player, a spear-carrier in your very own opera.
After a while, you're not doing the stage; the stage is doing you.
Every interaction is now a performance: Are you hot enough to land this hot guy? How about that one? Oh, never mind — how about the chick in the corner? You're now so into the role of Unattainable Hot Babe you're actually feeling trapped by the very thing that gets you attention. It's time to retire the role and look for some more interesting character sketches.
The only way to do that is to go on a temporary sex fast. You can never really tell the pattern of your life until you step back from it.
From the inside the pattern may seem fun and exciting, but from the outside you may see something else entirely — like the outlines of a train that's going to wind up in the direction it's headed.
So, for the next month or so, stop having sex and make time for a little reflection. Ask yourself the questions you've been too busy to answer: Why do I play relationship hopscotch when I could stay and see if it'll work out? Am I really attracted to girls or is it just part of my "because I can" role? Am I having sex because I really enjoy it or because my role demands it? What exactly do I want and am I getting closer or farther away from it? Right now, beauty powers your life. It draws people and things toward you. That's fine, but if I may transpose one word in Emily Dickinson's famous poem:
Beauty is a bee
It has a song
It has a sting
Ah, too, it has a wing
At some point your beauty will fade and with it, all of your power.
That's not a pretty place to be. Your challenge is to use beauty to build up something other than your ego, and to cultivate internal qualities that serve your life's purpose. Without that, you're just another party girl who gets fucked a lot.
Got a burning or a why-is-it-burning question for the Sexorcist? E-mail him at email@example.com. Mike Alvear is the author of a line of How To Meet Guys On Facebook and teaches monthly blogging workshops with Hollis Gillespie.
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