Being Average

Tim keeps bugging me. It is certainly a huge turn-on when guys do not understand No and keep pushing for YES until they get what they want, but the situation becomes really annoying. He is young, educated, accomplished, and aggressive. No drama, no alcohol, no drugs, a fairly descent lawyer with the Nordic appearance and the smell of a menthol gum.  But he does not seem to deal well with being rejected. 

          You are a worthless slut, I have no respect for you, – he was almost yelling over the phone
          Stop calling me than, – after breaking up with Greg I promised to myself not to let people get to me
          But I want to fuck
          There are thousands of others, I am not the only pussy here, – I was curious how long it will take before he gives up. Surprisingly, I did not feel offended or angry, just surprised why such a young and handsome zombie is so desperate in his attempts to find someone for a one night stand
          I like you, you are thin and foreign
          There are plenty of thin and foreign girls around, much younger and much more attractive, please leave me alone, – It was getting old. Tim was right though, I liked him, otherwise I would have stopped this charade long ago and blocked his phone number
          When can I see you again?
          I am busy
          When can I see you again?
          Leave me alone
          I like you, we just won’t have a relationship beyond sexual pleasure, only orgasm for me and you
          No means no, – I liked his persistence, the rare quality to see in the boredom of gender equality, political correctness, and anti-harassment propaganda.
          Ok bye,  he hung up on me. 

A minute later he was calling again.
          Just so you know,  – there was ice-cold calmness in his voice, – I have lost interest in you. You are an average looking slut with above average pain in the ass personality.
          Great, just forget my number
          If you want a man, you need to be less of a pain

Now it was my turn to take a deep breath and hang up. 

Tim was right, I am a very pedestrian girl with very pedestrian expectations. Some expectations can be met, some remain unattainable fantasies, since Greg will never change, and his random appearance in my life will always result in feeling bitter and wasted. But in general, being average feels really good. Like every average looking creature, I love average serenity. I love feeling averagely happy, and I deserve the average happiness. A-VE-RA-GE sounds like my favorite statistics, there is no statistically significant difference between myself and million other girls, averagely manipulative, averagely worldly, averagely lazy, averagely promiscuous, averagely tearful, and averagely wrong about feeling that their pussies are made of gold, and every person on this planet must treat them as the queen. 

Tim is uniquely crazy, and his craziness prevents him from realizing that it does not make sense to get obsessive over Vixen since there are many others that have the qualities that he needs. His unique craziness results in his fury, desperation, and aggressive hysteria. Average balance is much much better than outstanding sufferings. 

That night I fell asleep with a big smile on my face.      
feelings, Tim

Tim, Attachment, Zombie

I went out with Tim several times, and I became attached to his real self that he kept hiding behind skepticism, bluntness, and dirty language. He was very smart, highly educated, and heavily traumatized.  Young, tall, and athletic, he had that college-kid look and quiet innocence that made me smile.
During our first meeting, he immersed me in a long political discussion, demonstrated profound knowledge of the world history and public policy, and presented as absolutely detached. He looked like a typical Anglo-Saxonian zombie, cold and smelling menthol gum and laundry detergent.
I was very positive he was not into me at all, we are peers, and I tend to attract older guys, accomplished and wealthy. But I received an email from him after, stating that he is not going to be respectful with me any longer, since all he wanted was to put his hands under my dress and check if I had my undies on. I was so surprised that he showed up that I did not even get upset.
I was more amazed at myself than at his sexual directness, since I kept responding to his endless vulgarism and lack of respect.
          Why are you so disrespectful with me, Tim? What am I doing wrong?
          I respectfully want you, can I come over now?       
In reality, he kept presenting as cold and very knowledgeable of technical and legal matters. An engineer and a lawyer, he demonstrated his researched misanthropic attitudes about others when we met, and kept sending perverted texts after.
I told him about his Jekyll and Hyde nature, and he immediately lowed his voiced and started looking around, apprehensive about the humid darkness.
          Well, there are people here, and I do not want to scare you off. Do you really want me to tell you what I am thinking about you?
          You are going to write it to me later anyways, right?
          Yes, but writing is different
          Why don’t you give me your phone number?
          Sorry, my phone number is only for work
 I left that date with the firm decision to block him for good, but I kept conversing.
          You like it, you like being treated like a little slut, you will be my little slut, and I will dump you after.
After two months of getting obscene messages through the email box and his constant begging for my explicit pictures, he gave me his phone number. I started receiving harassing texts in-between our cold and strictly educational meetings.
Months after I learned to see through his ongoing stop-wasting-my-time-I-want-your-pussy-talk, I sadly realized that the Tim I have developed a strong liking for is hidden under megatons of inferiority complexes, childhood traumas, and the pathological fear to express feelings.
He helped me with grocery bags to my vehicle, inquired about the safety of my son’s car-seat, and finally gave me a hug. I slowly stroke his arm and leaned against him trying to get to his smell through the superb cleanliness of his t-shirt and menthol breath. 
I felt him, he was awesome, the problem was he did not feel himself, constantly suppressing everything through fake toughness
 –           You are very pleasant to touch and to smell, this is awesome.   – He did not get it. He was chewing his gum while kissing, he was paranoid, nervously talkative, and desperately rude. I got into his vehicle since it started raining and was bombarded with his unbridled horniness and anxious efforts to cajole me into going down on him.
          I am looking for a long-term lover, Tim
          Don’t use ‘lover’, say ‘sex partner’
          Why don’t you call me by my first name?
 He kept loudly chewing the gum hastily looking around
          I do not want attachment, I may be leaving the area soon. I am afraid though you will be attached to my cock
          Of course I will, this is the luxury of being alive and real
 He looked at me in astonishment, he literary did not get what I was talking about. He was like a scared little kid, lonely, helpless, and extremely traumatized, and nothing could be done about it.
 –          Is it ok that I am touching you, Tim, or do you want me to take my hands away?
          You do not have to ask, do what you like.
          Tim, – I tried again knowing though that I won’t be able to get to him through his zombieism – You are very warm inside, but you freeze yourself so much
          Are you psychoanalyzing me?
          I threw my license into the Gulf of Mexico a year ago
          Good for you, but I have no idea what you are talking about. Shall we fuck?
I quietly got out of his vehicle and left. I liked him, I really liked him, I still text him back and miss his obscenity when he disappears. He is panicky about everything, and I do not need his emotional instability and trauma in my life. Sadly, he is a zombie with no interest in becoming a live human being.