Some poor fellow who asked me to dance last night got the surprise of his life when I burst into ballroom belligerence and began brawling instead of bluesing. I don't know whether he intentionally or inadvertently placed my hand too close for my comfort to his privates when he turned me around, or if perhaps it was just a figment of my imagination.
All I know is that I was suddenly compelled to practice martial arts instead of the dance moves I've been learning. And for the next four miserable minutes of the song that was playing, which seemed to last for four hours, the both of us intensely struggled to retain our presumed postures.
While I waged war in and around his energy field in rhythm to the music, his efforts to calm me down only agitated me even further. My tornado-like flurry of flailing arms and lashing legs did not stop him from capturing me, turning me upside down, and dip-dumping my head like a mop to the floor. Ok. I deserved it. While I realize that my unusually provocative dance demeanor likely contributed to the debacling dancing disaster, I nonetheless feel obligated to rationalize my behavior.
People tell me that I exude of sensuality. I never sought to cultivate that attribute, it descended upon me naturally. It is not an effort that I make, but an affliction that I struggle with. And it is apparently one that most men would give plenty to cultivate in other women, because the number one issue men complain to me about in my sexology practice, is that other women are too inhibited to enjoy themselves sexually. And the root of that inhibition stems from the difficulty people have in differentiating an invitation from simply comfortable openness. To be open is to be vulnerable. Vulnerability is not safe.
Although a heavy sigh of relief is nothing but that, whether it occurs as a result of great sex, or the great dance, it is more likely to be perceived with a sexual connotation, when there is a magnetic attraction present. Identifying the fine line between attraction and invitation is how you transform flirting into acceptable, rather than relegating it obnoxious. I could go on and on with this, but I will save it for a book, and pray that I may some day have the self-discipline to write one.
All I know is that I was suddenly compelled to practice martial arts instead of the dance moves I've been learning. And for the next four miserable minutes of the song that was playing, which seemed to last for four hours, the both of us intensely struggled to retain our presumed postures.
While I waged war in and around his energy field in rhythm to the music, his efforts to calm me down only agitated me even further. My tornado-like flurry of flailing arms and lashing legs did not stop him from capturing me, turning me upside down, and dip-dumping my head like a mop to the floor. Ok. I deserved it. While I realize that my unusually provocative dance demeanor likely contributed to the debacling dancing disaster, I nonetheless feel obligated to rationalize my behavior.
People tell me that I exude of sensuality. I never sought to cultivate that attribute, it descended upon me naturally. It is not an effort that I make, but an affliction that I struggle with. And it is apparently one that most men would give plenty to cultivate in other women, because the number one issue men complain to me about in my sexology practice, is that other women are too inhibited to enjoy themselves sexually. And the root of that inhibition stems from the difficulty people have in differentiating an invitation from simply comfortable openness. To be open is to be vulnerable. Vulnerability is not safe.
Although a heavy sigh of relief is nothing but that, whether it occurs as a result of great sex, or the great dance, it is more likely to be perceived with a sexual connotation, when there is a magnetic attraction present. Identifying the fine line between attraction and invitation is how you transform flirting into acceptable, rather than relegating it obnoxious. I could go on and on with this, but I will save it for a book, and pray that I may some day have the self-discipline to write one.
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