A monologue about living in the city with another woman.
I used to be able to pick up guys like nothing. Bars, parties, library, classrooms... they just flocked over to me. I hardly had to move my fingers. I let them do the talking, let them make the moves, let them pick the music, let them pick... oh, whatever. Not that I didn't have any self-esteem or anything. No. I knew what I wanted... I hardly ever got exactly what I wanted, but it came close once in a while. And, whatever I did get, I liked well enough. It is interesting how many different things people want... different ideas of the exact same thing. For instance, I bet those guys thought they were picking me up, which is kinda' true , but what's important here is what I wanted and what I thought and what I got.
I don't want you to think I was some poor slut victimized or socialized or conditioned to be objectified or something... I went through phases, too. I didn't always attract attention like a military chopper flying low over a dorm building. I didn't always want to attract attention. It's just that, for a couple of years or so, I just did, and I had fun.
On the other hand, I don't mean to imply I got anything out of it, either. To be frank, I got nothing out of those years except for a couple of troubles... I broke some guys' hearts, too. Not the best thing for your self-esteem. I was a nice person; I was not out to hunt down and hurt anyone... I just wanted to enjoy life any way Nature allowed me.
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