The denouement:

I asked the boy in question how he had perceived my behavior. He said that he thought I had a flirty personality, but that he was sure he wasn't the object of it, especially since I had made him a confidante. He was surprised I was asking him in such specific terms, and wanted to know where the hell I was coming from; who'd been putting such questions in my head. We had a nice, friendly chat, and the absence of any other hints or agendas was confirmation. I believed him, that he hadn't been seeing what wasn't there. That cleared my conscience.

I asked my beautiful friend who dresses unabashedly sexy at all times what she thought. She laughed, familiar with it. "I let an awful lot of things just go," she said. "I'm an expert at it." She pointed out that it wasn't about me, that my friend was not telling the whole truth to herself about how she feels about this guy, and confirmed that it would be vengeful to point out how her self-righteousness was unsubtantiated.

So I broached the topic with my friend again. Said I was sorry to have created a scene for her, that I had no intention, ever, of taking her crush to bed, and I did not believe I was doing anything to that effect. I said I was angry at her accusation and the bitterness of it, and suggested that her feelings were deeper than she'd indicated, too. She was gentler about it this time, but insisted that "other people" definitely thought I was out of line as well; perhaps I was unaware of what my body language puts out; that she doesn't know if she can trust me because we have a "vastly different" moral position on "things like this"; she doesn't know what I'm "up to". Because I've been willing to bed married men in the past, that means I have a different take on social rules, and she's not sure she can trust me to not poach her guys.

I gritted my teeth through her insistence that she "would NEVER cozy up like that to someone [her] friend liked," and steeled myself for the commentary on how provocatively I dress (which isn't, very. It's a matter of relativity). She can have her illusions if they make her feel better, I told myself. Patronizing, but functional, for right now. I just insisted that I'd had no intentions of getting in her way, and never had designs on him.

I thought I was prepared to apologize for something I didn't do, for her sake, but when it came to it, I couldn't. I couldn't apologize for "being sexual in general", for behaving somehow "different from how [she] would behave." I couldn't make my mouth move for that. I stayed vaguely angry. I really wanted to hit her with my story from the other side, but kept a grip on the idea that it wasn't useful.

Funny, how he felt about me didn't come up again. His crush on me wasn't produced as evidence.

...........

I don't mind challenging people, I'm just sometimes surprised at how easily people get challenged. When I don't mean to.

This is why people find their own. The less hot girls can't hang with the hot girls because they can only take being invisible and secondary in this culture of beauty for so long before they lash out. Even though everyone knows in their heads the beauty-worship is empty, it matters, and the hot girls have a definite advantage that's no fault nor talent of their own. Sometimes they get attacked for it; taken down at the knees, if there's an opening. It took me years to figure out that's what was happening to me (because if you don't grasp you have an advantage, you have no clue why people are turning on you).

I'm looking forward to when this friend loses her weight, when she's on the other side. That will be fun. I expect she'll understand different things, maybe even apologize. She gets judged and underestimated all the time because of her size, you'd think she could relate to being underestimated and judged for being pretty.

She's a close confidante, so I've leaned on her through men hurting me, through struggling to the other side of an affair. She's very good at keeping her mouth shut about what I know she thinks of as my culpability and flawed judgement. At this moment, I have a picture of her thinking to herself when my man cheated on me, that I was getting my own back. The judgement is fierce, but I have to be ok with that. That's part of the price for exploring the edges of "the rules."

I don't know what's driving it, but I want a break right now. Maybe I'm hurt or resentful or feeling challenged. Maybe she's getting to something true that scares me - whatever, I don't feel up to investing the work to be "truly close". Obviously, we are both holding opinions of the other in reserve, not being completely honest. That's not real friendship, I don't think. Maybe that's what girls do, though. So high school I don't even want to tackle it.

I'm feeling a longing to read The Power of Beauty by Nancy Friday again.

...............

Some shame has settled on me though, like an insect. Every so often I feel it crawling on my skin. It's about the how-I-dress thing, which I found very bothersome. I'm kinda sad. I want to cry in the arms of a sympathetic friend. I feel rather alone in my opinions.

I'm also angry. It makes me feel all fuck you and political about my right to wear tight shirts. I need to google powerful women getting judged for sexuality. I feel rebelliously militant about it. I thought I wore what I wore because I felt good in it, but if it causes that much of a stir, then I'm determined to be as fucking hot as possible whenever I feel like it.

I refuse to buy into the idea that your appearance compromises your legitimacy. I'd like to be powerful, smart, serious, successful, and the knockout punch - hot. If people see the hot first and assume I'm less of the first four things, then they've got an education coming, and I'll laugh in their faces at their mistake.

Sure, I love attention. Not ashamed of that. Who doesn't? There's more available to some than others because of a random genetic lottery, but I don't believe there's any purpose in rejecting or avoiding attention for others' sakes. It's almost part of achieving your full potential, soaking up all that's available to you instead of hiding under a bushel. Of course, girls who can't get that much attention slag the girls who do, to plant shame, tone them down. It's the big equalization device. I hate women sometimes. Men don't seem to do that.

Fat drama

Friend of mine tells me today she's really disappointed that her crush wants me. Then she says that she "wants to understand where [I'm] coming from," because in her world, when a girl expresses attraction to someone, he becomes off-limits to her friends, and what she would do if the roles were reversed, is "sit rigid on the other side of the room from him". Whereas I, apparently, was "wearing skimpy clothes" and "wriggling" near him. Oh, and it "looked to him and all the other men in the room" that I was "giving him the signals." A short time later she found a way to randomly comment on her cousin's opinion that "men get killed over shit like that" - shit like that being the poaching of another man's woman. But, she really wants to know "how I make my decisions," and "where I'm coming from." Because if it's going to be a competition, she doesn't do that. And her crush is over anyways. After all, would I want her sloppy seconds?

I was instantly, blindly, furious. I told her I needed some time to think about that. "Ok," she says. "I just had to say something, you know, or else I'd be a passive-aggressive bitch about it."

I thought she had been being oddly bitchy to me over the past couple days, so this revelation was illuminating as a possible reason. I wasn't sure why I was so mad, though.

She introduced me to this guy a while ago, as someone she's known for awhile, and had her eye on for a fuck friend, if she could swing it so he understood it was just a casual sex thing, not an any-deeper-interest thing. They obviously have a bond already, and are quite physically affectionate with each other. While I was around, he brought her a very generous and thoughtful gift, and was often hugging her. Looked to me like she had her "sex thing" in the bag, if she wanted it.

Meanwhile, he and I get along together fairly well. I glaze over when he talks too much, and find him neither intellectually riveting nor physically attractive, but he's very fun. Certainly an easy guy to chat with and laugh with, and we banter easily. I happen to be stricken with a secret, sudden, staggering full mind and body craving for another man at this same time, but we'll leave that out of this for now.

I wrestled with a few themes of feeling in the wake of my friend's unburdening herself.

I am more conventionally attractive than she is, to the tune of 50 lbs, plus I've been feeling very beautiful lately. I still notice how I feel about myself vs. how I used to feel, so the new confidence is not natural enough in my bones to be part of my automatic self-image. But I've really been enjoying being female lately, and dressing hot and stylish. I freakin' love it, and even though it's taken some effort, I've become pretty comfortable and accepting that men look at me. Most men think I'm beautiful, and I can enjoy that.

Hence, her "scantily-clad" gibe hurt, and prodded old shame. I had to fight with myself for a bit, insist that I was never dressed like a slut, that I have the right to present myself as beautifully as possible, and that being sexy and being myself (my self is very sexual) is my right. There's no obligation- in fact it's wrong - for me to "shrink so other people don't feel insecure around me."

A tiny piece of me thought Wow, congratulations. That represents some new confidence for you to feel like you and I are in the same game enough to think I'm stealing a guy from you. And I'm happy for her for that. Personally, I thought it was obvious in this act that I would never consider this guy anywhere near a bed; that he might flirt, but know without doubt that I'm way out of his league. Oh. He thought he had a chance? Other people thought we were sparking? That's a little insulting, even though that means I'm being smug and elitist. Outer beauty shouldn't matter.

I'm irritated that I have to do a round of this with her now. I've done this. I have another girlfriend who is thankfully paired off now and happy enough that she's lost the need to compete with me, but who used to make a sport of seducing anyone I confided I was attracted to. Anyone. It was her way of communicating to me that she thought I was gorgeous and powerful and devastatingly talented. Once I figured out that she was battling her insecurity by being really good as something I wasn't (targeting guys), it was sorta cute.

But that was years ago, and although it hurt, it was mostly a waste of time, tears, and energy. I really resent having to go through any reprisals, especially with this girl now, who is very high on my list of girls, and I care alot about. I'm not down with this scene. God, women can just piss me off with the catty rules shit.

Then, there's the interpretation of what actually happened. All three of us were there for any given contact; I've had no reason to be with him without her there too. But when she and I were in private, she asked me once, as a favour, to stop pushing him towards her (because I guess I was subtly aligning them), also twice commented on him becoming interested in me. I took this as a statement that she was no longer interested, plus I did misinterpret something she said about another man that made me think she had a new mark. The him liking me part, I shrugged off. It happens. Then on the wriggling night, while I was completely preoccupied with the emptiness in my stomach after being pulled away from the guy I really want, she said I was "radiating availability" by my choice of seating (he chose to sit by me!) and body language.

It all seems terribly ironic to me that I was almost sick with a sense of loss at the time from being snatched away from true-obsession guy, and then I get accused of trolling for her love interest. I remember how removed my thoughts were from the room, not how I moved. But a drink combined with the constant, terminal horniness I'm suffering from undoubtedly made me sexy as a cat, trying or not (I wasn't trying!).

And then I got a flashback that made the anger completely fall away, but makes it all more complicated.

Several weeks ago, I met a wonderful guy. He was tall, strong, hot, friendly and masterfully social. He was smart, well-educated, well-rounded, fascinating. We had an awesome conversation, and, I felt, connection. Total spark. I was madly attracted to him, and I felt and thought enough about him to feel guilty and afraid about my commitment to my man. I vibrated around this guy, got ditzy. However, we were both clearly in Not Available Land, and that felt safe enough. It felt possible I could have a good new guy friend that would be exciting but without sex stuff. Difficult, but possible. I wasn't really his rank, his speed, anyways, so if I got too attracted and felt the need to divulge, it could only be humiliating.

I clearly told this girlfriend at great length about him and how he lit me up. Of course, with the reserve I know I've got a boyfriend and I won't cheat on him but...! I invited both of them for a party. As the party approached and she inquired about any unattached guys that might be there, I mentioned this guy again, and raved about him a bit.

She threw herself at him! She was in a bit of a renewed-confidence stage, so it was cute to see her be bold and vulnerable, but I was shocked at how blind she was to me. Every moment we were alone, gushing "I think he likes me! He said he likes the flower in my hair! He touched my arm", etc etc. Me: "That's great" through gritted teeth. Over the evening, as my stomach was turning, I got more and more rigid and distant from him, because I wanted to be different, to be not that; because I thought she was being very presumptuous, and overshooting.

This guy is professional, high-quality, amazing. He's the kind of guy I would have to work hard to convince myself I deserved. He could have anyone he wanted, and he wasn't going to be interested in an easy lay. Turned out he wasn't. She invited him to her bed when everyone was finding their patch of floor to pass out on, and he opted for the floor.

To my eyes, he had been polite to her, and she'd overinterpreted his friendliness, and after he was wasted, he'd been loose with affection, and she'd thought he was into her. He hadn't been wasted enough to forget himself entirely, though, and so he found the floor. In the morning, he fled with all the classic excuses, vague memories and horror for getting too drunk the night before written all over him. I've done the bolt of shame from a seedy sun-up scene, so I recognize it. He couldn't get out fast enough, and I knew I wouldn't see him again. It was very disappointing.

He and I exchanged some devastatingly pleasant messages later about how much fun we'd had and how we should get together again- do something. BBQs were mentioned. He's polite like that. I don't think he'd seen enough of me to judge me, but I knew he'd seen enough. I knew he wouldn't go near me with a ten-foot pole now either. I don't know precisely why, but I have a good overall sense of it.

In the aftermath, she raved about all the indicators she'd taken to mean he was hot for her, and expressed much mystification that he had not taken her offer of sex. She was bursting with delight. I zipped my mouth closed about how he'd made all the same "flirtatious" overtures to me, to not diminish her pride. She was so damn thrilled with the night, ecstatic to be paid attention to. He's generous like that. I didn't want to dent her bubble, and I still don't. It wasn't too costly for me to let it all slide. My friend feels better about herself; I lose an opportunity of unknown value. I'm ok with that. It's just a guy.

But now, I might be offended enough to remind her of this man at my birthday party; tell her how I saw it. The friend in me doesn't want to hurt her. Telling her this might pile more sting and insult on the current rejection she's already feeling. Another part of me is of the opinion that illusion never helped anyone, and she might as well be informed that she is definitely capable of the exact insensitivity she's accused me of, and her self-righteousness is a little hollow. I'm not a lie-down-and-let-people-repeat-one-sided-versions-of-the-truth-about-me kinda person, either.

Being hot is a pain in the ass. Excuse me - it's not my fault that a guy's attracted to me. It happens. A lot. No matter what I wear. And in my experience, the farther away you sit, the more they chase. I think a nice little pursuit scene might have hurt her feelings worse. As it is, it must be easier to blame me, not him. But it's really not my fault he likes me.

He's a person in this too. I thought he was sweet, big-hearted, vulnerable and sensitive. I know he was strutting, proud to have us around him. I don't mind doing that for a guy. I like feeding back a man's attractive qualities, beaming at them. I think men get shorted an awful lot of praise, and get shit on alot while doing the hard work of the male-female dance. A little more equitable distribution of appreciation would go a long way to balancing our fucked-up interrelation standards. A few more confident men would mean less violence.

That said, I believe I was careful to not put out any I wanna fuck yous. I have pretty good whiskers for being too friendly. I even mentioned my man to him, early on, in a preemptive way. I have a perfectly good, gorgeous, well-equipped boyfriend whom I adore loudly (frustration at how far away he is notwithstanding), and I thought everyone else would assume the usual rules applied to me enough that I wouldn't be trolling.

I was next to oblivious about this drama developing around me (see thought-he-knew-I-was-out-of-his-league part), so I had been looking forward to seeing him again, hanging out some more (the three of us). He's fun, with unabashed male energy and opinions, qualities I like to be around. But that's out. And that pisses me off, the unnecessary amputation of something healthy because of someone else's perception.

It's a scarcity issue, of course. There is only this one man in the whole world, and she's pissed on his fire hydrant, so I shouldn't be sniffing. So lame.