Fun and Games

As the white and grey and brown and black of the 401 West streaks by my window, I am once again thinking about my relationships, and life, and of course, sex. The last time I did this drive similar thoughts were on my mind, but in a completely different context. I had just split from my Big Love, and the Catalyst had also left town. At that stage I didn’t think that the Catalyst would become an addiction that I’d only really kick four months later. If I can say that I’ve already kicked it. It was before the intense webcam sessions and professions of love. Oh, the internet and my love life.

The speed at which you can connect with someone on the other side of the globe. It boggles my mind that through video interaction you can fall for a person; you can feel like you’re really there together. Really connecting. It’s body language – the human mating ritual. And pure sex. Oh, the speed of online escalation. But I’ll get to that…

There was an article that a friend of mine sent to me in Time that discussed flirting and its different angles. As a purely biological thing, and yes – we are still animals – flirting is a pre-programmed form of human interaction that really acts as a social lubricant. And we all flirt, whether or not we’re aware of, or willing to acknowledge it.

I have a confession to make. I use sexuality as a social tool. I earn a living selling alcohol and desire. And it’s really fun. I have made friends and networked, while running around in cute little outfits and smiling sweetly. I rarely get propositioned, although I get random compliments here and there. Validation? Hell, yeah.

Last Sunday, for instance:

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I just think you’re so fucking cute.” – Tall Paul, one of those people you just know. You know, he knows people you know.

I was also just given twenty bucks and told by an all-American grown-up skater boy that I’d done a really amazing job running around all night. Apparently he had a crush on me and thought that he’d tell me that. Apparently I’m really cute. He wanted to tell me that too.

Cuteness, eh?

I guess the barely butt-covering black and white polka dot skirt combined with my Chucks and a slightly shit-kicking attitude might do the trick.

But this weekend I slipped up. I broke an important rule on Thursday night by giving one of the regulars my phone number. It was Valentine’s Day and I’d been taking shots with the Amazon to get myself through the horror of the evening. I was grumpy having just terminated my relationship with the Catalyst once and for all, and this guy’s attention was better than the other douches I was putting up with. Foolish girl.

There’s a line that needs to be maintained, and once it is crossed, it can become an issue.

Yes, I may have been causing trouble. Telling a guy that your friend told you that your outfit looked slutty, while smiling sweetly, isn’t exactly an ambiguous statement. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he grabbed me and kissed my neck. Hard.

And then he tipped me more than 25%.

Hmm…

So is it worth it? Not for me. Not for money. I don’t have the safety of a bar separating me from my clients. Yes, I can always walk away from a guy and/or give him a threatening “I have a whole team of bouncers behind me” kind of look, but I’d rather not get in that situation at all.

Yet lots of women do go to clubs and swap a little sex for some booze and maybe a few fancy dinners. Breakfast, at least. In regular interaction it seems perfectly acceptable to accept cash for advances. According to the Harper’s Index, 61% of American women in their twenties are willing marry for money. Boost that up to 74% once you <gasp!> turn thirty. Although, of course, it’s money and love we’re all looking for. Isn’t it?

At work there are games that are played to create an illusion of availability. I’m a really physical girl. I dance around a lot. I hug and touch my co-workers, and a lot of my friends come into the club with whom I’m really rather friendly. I touch guys on the arm or back when taking their orders. I have to stand close to people to hear what they want. It gets hot and sweaty in the club. I wear short skirts and little tops and run around with glasses on big trays and ice buckets above my head.

I think that it does get a little confusing for some guys. There’s the fantasy – the show – and the reality, which is that it’s just for fun. Look; don’t touch. They see me interacting with they guys: bosses, co-workers, good friends, and they think they might have a chance. That’s the point. But it doesn’t mean that they can cop a feel, regardless of how sweetly I smile and ambiguously I shrug it off when asked for my number.

Why do I flirt? Does it make me feel powerful? Yes, to an extent. I know that I can get further in life being extra friendly. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not going around exuding fuckability. I don’t think so, at least. (Comments here, boys?) I’m just really friendly, smile sweetly, and often get my way.

Flirtation is undeniably a social lubricant that makes little daily interactions more pleasurable and simpler for both parties. Why even pretend to deny it?

Now to get to the other direction I wanted to take this: the internet. The thing about the way in which I interact with men at the club is that it’s primarily physical. Signals are sent through body language. It’s a dance: a state of ambiguity. They don’t know for certain that I’m interested, but then, they also don’t know that I’m not. But internet interaction changes this; it’s all linguistic. Innuendo comes through word play. Intellect is oh so very attractive, and sometimes you may find yourself connecting with someone you might otherwise have overlooked because they aren’t the type to command a room. Or they seemed stuck-up at first glance. Or they live on the other side of the planet. Who knows who you’ll start talking to more on facebook or gtalk or msn or god knows what actual dating sites you’re visiting.

The thing is that in these situations, because everything is done through words, you can’t draw out the tension as long, and things can quickly escalate. I’m not going to judge this. I don’t think that it’s good or bad – it just is. And oh, is it ever exciting when you start down along the road of steamy messaging, especially when at work or in other equally verboten situations.

I guess this is all to say that I’ve been thinking about all of this a little more lately. In my own life I’m experimenting with various unconventional forms of human interaction. Being open to whatever comes your way is, in my opinion, the most honest way to be. If you’re not hurting anyone and you’re having a good time, who cares if you’re following the conventions of the dating scene? Flirtation is exhilarating. Allowing sex to lie just beneath every interaction with someone can be energizing. I’m all about the chase, anyhow. I was chatting to a friend on gtalk a few days ago describing the situation I’m now in with the Outrageous Director Guy. He said that other people are cattle, and we’re sitting here laughing, understanding what it’s really about. I don’t know that I’d go that far, but I’m certainly not afraid of defying convention. It’s just so much more fun.