To Pull Or Not To Pull...
...that is the question. I don't know if it's just a youthful phenomenon I seem to have grown out of (like Warehouse for example), I just seem to have reached this ambiguous frame of mind on the subject.
Last year it seemed that the objective of a good night out was that it culminated in a fumble in your room with a handsome stranger after an evening of flirtatious bumping and grinding on the dancefloor. That you really were wearing a good outfit only if it attracted a few instances of flirtatious eye contact. I remember sitting in the corridors of halls about 3am with my friends, lamenting our lack of allure to the opposite sex, that lack of allure painfully contrasted with the frequent bedroom Olympics of some of the others every time they went out. I remember going through a variety of "just in case" preparations alongside the usual pre-club routine; make the bed, just in case, tidy room, just in case, sexy underwear and swimmer-like body hair removal, just in case. And the slow layings of a foundation on which your whole night depended, wandering round alone in clubs just in case someone came up to you, staring out anyone who so much as glanced at you. I think to be honest, I was desparate. And to be even more honest, I still am at times.
See, I'm divided on the subject now, rather than dead set on the idea that good night out=pull. It started the beginning of this year, maybe coincidentally or not so coincidentally round about the time of my twentieth birthday when it stopped becoming a major night-out issue to be ranked alongside the crucial dilemma of Seven or Diesel jeans? And surprise, surprise, just as the experts say, as I forgot about it, they flocked in. To be honest I think I've attracted more male attention this term than I did all last year. Although not all of it has been good, and I think that's why I've taken stock of my whole "guy" frame of mind. Basically I met a guy in a club, we swappped numbers and a little "thing" developed so we decided to meet up, which to be honest, when you only know someone through a few text messages (dirty ones at that) isn't a great idea. Anyway, the whole thing seemed to be going very well, until we got to a nightclub and he suddenly turned very aggressive, making comments that everyone was looking at me. And when we left he terrified me, as he got progressively worse, just shouting at me, telling me to do one thing and then the opposite. Luckily one of my friends was around so I rang them and basically legged it, but it was terrifying nonetheless and shook the trust I had in people.
It just made me think that perhaps I was desparate, to chuck safety out of the window in the hope I would have a boyfriend. And also that, on reconsideration, despite, not fulfilling the contemporary "objective" of nights out in the past, I still have an abundance of memories of good nights, with my friends, people who do count, not a few random blokes I didn't even know the surnames of.
But I am still in a catch twenty-two. I still need that male approval to feel good about myself. Deep down, if I haven't been so much as eyed-up at the end of an otherwise good night out, I still feel a tiny bit insecure. Perhaps that's all it is, insecurity, after all, for centuries we women have been trained to crave the sexual approval of the male sex. I just hate clinging to the fact that if some random has my number, I need him to return my calls. I suppose it's just knowing a man cares about you, another age-old female desire. And to be honest, I rarely make the first move, I'm always too terrified, it's only when someone expresses an interest in me I return it, and suddenly fancy the pants off them. Going out on a date with the guy you've fancied for ages is an alien concept to me, as it's yet another area where I've never bothered or tried. I'm not saying I go out with any old bloke who approaches me, believe me I can rebuff, but it's only one step up from that.
I also feel that the whole pulling in a club, as great fun as it is, is just so one-dimensional, I mean where does it ever really go? As I've discovered, you don't know the fundamentals of each other to have a relationship, well, I mean it rarely works. What really happpens, it's just one night stands, and after a fewds and after a while, those get boring if pursued for tw i fyou foollow that path too long. One night stands are, to me, the gap-fillers. Excedpt when the gaps are far too big to truly fill. to fill. I just feel I want something more from men. You may feel wanted and special for a few days, but once the sex is over, it's just as lonely as it was to begin with.
Last year it seemed that the objective of a good night out was that it culminated in a fumble in your room with a handsome stranger after an evening of flirtatious bumping and grinding on the dancefloor. That you really were wearing a good outfit only if it attracted a few instances of flirtatious eye contact. I remember sitting in the corridors of halls about 3am with my friends, lamenting our lack of allure to the opposite sex, that lack of allure painfully contrasted with the frequent bedroom Olympics of some of the others every time they went out. I remember going through a variety of "just in case" preparations alongside the usual pre-club routine; make the bed, just in case, tidy room, just in case, sexy underwear and swimmer-like body hair removal, just in case. And the slow layings of a foundation on which your whole night depended, wandering round alone in clubs just in case someone came up to you, staring out anyone who so much as glanced at you. I think to be honest, I was desparate. And to be even more honest, I still am at times.
See, I'm divided on the subject now, rather than dead set on the idea that good night out=pull. It started the beginning of this year, maybe coincidentally or not so coincidentally round about the time of my twentieth birthday when it stopped becoming a major night-out issue to be ranked alongside the crucial dilemma of Seven or Diesel jeans? And surprise, surprise, just as the experts say, as I forgot about it, they flocked in. To be honest I think I've attracted more male attention this term than I did all last year. Although not all of it has been good, and I think that's why I've taken stock of my whole "guy" frame of mind. Basically I met a guy in a club, we swappped numbers and a little "thing" developed so we decided to meet up, which to be honest, when you only know someone through a few text messages (dirty ones at that) isn't a great idea. Anyway, the whole thing seemed to be going very well, until we got to a nightclub and he suddenly turned very aggressive, making comments that everyone was looking at me. And when we left he terrified me, as he got progressively worse, just shouting at me, telling me to do one thing and then the opposite. Luckily one of my friends was around so I rang them and basically legged it, but it was terrifying nonetheless and shook the trust I had in people.
It just made me think that perhaps I was desparate, to chuck safety out of the window in the hope I would have a boyfriend. And also that, on reconsideration, despite, not fulfilling the contemporary "objective" of nights out in the past, I still have an abundance of memories of good nights, with my friends, people who do count, not a few random blokes I didn't even know the surnames of.
But I am still in a catch twenty-two. I still need that male approval to feel good about myself. Deep down, if I haven't been so much as eyed-up at the end of an otherwise good night out, I still feel a tiny bit insecure. Perhaps that's all it is, insecurity, after all, for centuries we women have been trained to crave the sexual approval of the male sex. I just hate clinging to the fact that if some random has my number, I need him to return my calls. I suppose it's just knowing a man cares about you, another age-old female desire. And to be honest, I rarely make the first move, I'm always too terrified, it's only when someone expresses an interest in me I return it, and suddenly fancy the pants off them. Going out on a date with the guy you've fancied for ages is an alien concept to me, as it's yet another area where I've never bothered or tried. I'm not saying I go out with any old bloke who approaches me, believe me I can rebuff, but it's only one step up from that.
I also feel that the whole pulling in a club, as great fun as it is, is just so one-dimensional, I mean where does it ever really go? As I've discovered, you don't know the fundamentals of each other to have a relationship, well, I mean it rarely works. What really happpens, it's just one night stands, and after a fewds and after a while, those get boring if pursued for tw i fyou foollow that path too long. One night stands are, to me, the gap-fillers. Excedpt when the gaps are far too big to truly fill. to fill. I just feel I want something more from men. You may feel wanted and special for a few days, but once the sex is over, it's just as lonely as it was to begin with.
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