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Sunday, Jul. 27, 2003 - 3:51 p.m. FALLON IN RED I just arrived back from Shreveport with my parents and feel very groggy. I got up early yesterday morning to ride up there and did not go to bed until 3 AM. I probably did not fall asleep until even later. Then at 8 o'clock this morning, my father was raring to hit the road again. Last night, my brother, his roommate, and I all went out to experience the somewhat limited Shreveport night life. I was happy to be going to places with people I knew. My brother, especially, seems to have created a rapport with women since he has been in medical school. So we go out to this bar, then to "Polly Esther's." At the bar we met up with these two girls, one which was a phyician's assistant and another who was this blonde cutie named "Fallon" who wore red. My brother's roommate, though he stood a 5'4", immediately drew a liking from these girls. Toadying along with the two girls was this other chick we labelled "the bachelorette" because she was trying out for the TV show. While the bachelorette was very attractive, I was just turned off by something about her I cannot put my finger on. Given that it was my brother's birthday, these girls coaxed us to go to Polly Esther's with them. So later on we met them there. They eventually pulled us onto the dance floor. The girl in red eventually started butt-grinding with me. I could feel the testoserone. First off, I have been taking extensive dancing lessons, so I have a few moves on the dance floor. But in a club like that, packed with people, I have no room to show my moves. To add to that, the popular thing in the clubs these days is that rap-semi-techno crap. Most of my formal training does not apply to this music, nor its style of dancing. But I can definitely improvise with some awesome footwork. I slowly adjusted my dancing style to the writhing pelvis pumping that was going on. Three things went through my mind. First, I was not sure what this girl was up to and whether this was just a flirt. Second, if it was not, I was out of town with my parents and dependent on my brother for transportation. No matter what, anything I could get going with that girl would have to come to a screeching halt eventually. Third, I had my brother in mind who seemed to have wandered away from the dance floor. I did not want to have a good time while he was not. Incidentally, I believe the bachelorette was attempting to "protect" the girl in red from me by interrupting our dancing whenever the girl in red wanted to grind my leg. So I quit grinding and sought my brother. His roommate worked on her from then on. My brother and I went home after talking a while, leaving his roommate behind. I do not think he came in until 5 or 6 that morning. I have no idea what happened between the roommate and the girl in red, though I can try to imagine and I really do not care. Perhaps, if I had made more moves on this girl, I might have been the one getting in late the next morning. I find such possibilities to be quite alarming. The main barrier I have had with picking up women is the anxiety that was conditioned into me from my past. Mentally, I believe most of this anxiety is gone. I have reasoned it away with psychotherapy and have the benefit of medication. Physiologically, it is not gone. My new therapist and I got into this discussion during our first session. While I certainly may know how to approach women and communicate with them, my skills in physical communication between myself and the opposite sex may be a bit lacking due to my sheer inexperience, as exemplified by my trip to New York. This is a physiological anxiety that I cannot just reason away. It is the anxiety that works on instinct and not reason. It is what makes your body act scared even though you very well may not be scared at all. The only cure is experience. But now I am beginning to wonder if my experience is coming too fast. If I become a major player in the bar scene, which I am confident I can become, with a little work, of course, then I will be learning everything about women in perhaps the worst place. Women objectify themselves in the bar scene. Men are looking for a screw, and a lot of women, though they will not outwardly admit it, are easily willing to give it to them. In the bar scene, sex comes first, and the relationship, if one ever develops, comes second. If this is the end-all be-all of what I am to accomplish, I will be very disappointed. First off, the temptation to give up my prized virginity will be overwhelming. I just might end up loosing it in a cheap one or two-night stand. Second, there can be no way for me to reconcile the values I have carried with me all my life to the values that seem to be promoted by the bar scene. To fully submerge myself into the scene and reach my full social potential in it would require me to abandon many of my values. Lastly, by moving too quickly I can easily become a sociopath, preying on women, leaving them emotionally torn in my wake. Yes, I could easily become a sociopath, if I enjoy the sex enough. After all, I currently live a lifestyle with no emotional dependence on women. I can screw them and forget them. I can treat them like commodities, because I may never learn to treat them any other way because I lack the experience of a real relationship. And like any sociopath, I would be a lonely, empty person. This would fit my current profile very nicely. I do not know where I am headed. I have needs, and slowly but surely, I am creeping into an area where my needs might be met. All I can do is let it happen and handle it when it does. But the night life is an exhausting venture. I have to learn to limit my late-night activities as I must wake up early five days of the week now and be ready and alert for work. The new in-charge on our project is very anal and I can feel her on my back every time I think about work. I need to be in tip-top condition every day I go there, so bar-hopping must be held to a minumum. For the first time in my life, I am beginning to think that my job is harder than getting women. |