Status: I'm currently still working on this book and will add to it as I experience it. Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is welcome. :)
They All Say Things You Want to Hear
Louis
Fashion designer. You see those words and your mind conjures up images of floor length gowns, bags that cost more than your rent, and anorexic models strutting their stuff. Although we are all privy to the existence of male fashion designers, they are far and few between all of the amazingly talented women. Even the most successful of male designers are subjected to the assumption that they are homosexual, or at best, metrosexual. This was exactly my presumption with Louis.
Truth be told, I went looking for Louis. I had just had my heart broken by Lincoln and in my daze of lost, broken, hopeless dreams I decided that the best course of action was to get revenge. Although revenge would require the other party actually caring, which I was almost sure Lincoln did not. Louis happened to be a friend of Lincoln, as was just about every other affluent bachelor in the area. In my mind I figured if I dated someone he knew, who was wealthier and more successful than he was, then he would be jealous. Think Cher Horowitz in Clueless. She wants Christian to like her so she "does what any respectable girl would do" and sends herself candy and flowers. I was just taking it to a new extreme.
Louis is a man who is slightly older, twenty years my senior. He comes from a well known, well off family in the area. He splits his time between our little town and the big apple, and has a slew of celebrity friends. In addition to this, he designs fabulous clothes and handbags only carried at the most prestigious of stores. He wasn't attractive. In fact, he resembles a famous actor who is also highly unattractive. He was short, balding, not in shape, the list goes on. His idea of conversation was repeatedly daydreaming about sexual encounters, telling me to tell him how much I wanted him, and sending me pictures of his penis. Red flags? Yes, I know, but I was trying to mend a broken heart in the only way my emotionally clouded mind thought would work.
We spoke everyday for a few weeks, and then decided to meet. He invited me to his house, and I was only too thrilled to go. He lived in the hip historical part of town, and his family had built the home fifty years ago. My imagination ran wild imagining what this fashion designer's fortress would look like. When I got there, he met me at the door, but he didn't have to. The entire front of the house was a combination of a giant picture window and floor to ceiling panes of glass. When illuminated you could see from the street clear to the back of the house. The carpets were the color of fresh cream, and the furniture that of pure driven snow. I noticed furniture I had only ever seen on "Cribs" and was a bit taken aback by all of my surroundings. In the very rear of the house, next to a spiral stair case with a backdrop of two story floor to ceiling windows, was a statue of Buddha bigger than me.
He immediately started to kiss me as the soundtrack from the year 1989 bellowed in the background. The kissing was so horrible I tried to keep my mind on other things, like that Buddha in the background. In my head all I could thing was "At least this will make Lincoln jealous. At least I'm getting material for my book", anything to reconcile myself with what was happening. He led me into the bedroom and asked me to undress. Starved for affection and still on a mission of revenge, I obliged. We climbed into his bed which had the softest sheets I have ever felt in my life. It was like butter rubbing against my skin. He began to stroke his cock and instructed me to pleasure myself. I knew from our conversations that mutual masturbation was a fantasy of his. This way we were both getting off, but with little intimacy. We commenced our pleasure session and then proceeded to the bottom floor of the house where we conversed for a bit. I made sure to point out that we had a mutual friend, Lincoln. He began to speak of him, and I couldn't help but think, this is the most interested I've ever been in this man. He mentioned they had had lunch a few months ago (which I knew, I was seeing Lincoln at the time, and I'm an expert Facebook stalker) and that Lincoln had discussed his future with him. A future at that time I didn't know wasn't to include me. Although I knew about Lincoln's pipe dreams, I never thought they would come to fruition. However, according to Louis, he had taken every reckless step towards realizing his dream. What could the dreams of an overly successful, intelligent, bachelor be? Why, to open a bar of course!
At this point I was done with the situation. I had came, seen, done, literally. Louis had gotten what he wanted from the situation. I had made the remark early on that I didn't want to be used and tossed aside, and Louis assured me that wouldn't be the case. But as you will learn over, and over, and over again, in this story, in many more, in your own lives: they all say things you want to hear.
As soon as I left Louis' house, I turned on my Lincoln song on my iPhone, turned it up as loud as I could handle, and reflected. Before I had made it halfway home, I text Lincoln. I said I had heard a song and was thinking about a tryst of ours. I had nothing to lose, it was worth a try. Little did I know that I had just opened myself up to be hurt and disappointed yet again by Lincoln.
We both made a few friendly attempts at texting, but it was clear to us both, we had used each other for what we needed and there was no point in conversing anymore. As per usual, I pretend like everything is just fine. I never let my feelings show, never let them see the crazy girl who has built up a fantasy life in her head for the two of us, never let them see my broken heart. If there's one thing I've learned about dating influential men, is that you will see them again on your long crawl to the top, and you need to be on good terms.
People sometimes ask me why am I attracted to these men? Some of whom (like Louis) are not physically attractive. The only answer I can come up with is I want what they have. No, not just the McMansions and bottomless bank accounts, but their drive, their intelligence, their ambition, their passion, their understanding...and yes, their giant houses and plethora of wealth.
Truth be told, I went looking for Louis. I had just had my heart broken by Lincoln and in my daze of lost, broken, hopeless dreams I decided that the best course of action was to get revenge. Although revenge would require the other party actually caring, which I was almost sure Lincoln did not. Louis happened to be a friend of Lincoln, as was just about every other affluent bachelor in the area. In my mind I figured if I dated someone he knew, who was wealthier and more successful than he was, then he would be jealous. Think Cher Horowitz in Clueless. She wants Christian to like her so she "does what any respectable girl would do" and sends herself candy and flowers. I was just taking it to a new extreme.
Louis is a man who is slightly older, twenty years my senior. He comes from a well known, well off family in the area. He splits his time between our little town and the big apple, and has a slew of celebrity friends. In addition to this, he designs fabulous clothes and handbags only carried at the most prestigious of stores. He wasn't attractive. In fact, he resembles a famous actor who is also highly unattractive. He was short, balding, not in shape, the list goes on. His idea of conversation was repeatedly daydreaming about sexual encounters, telling me to tell him how much I wanted him, and sending me pictures of his penis. Red flags? Yes, I know, but I was trying to mend a broken heart in the only way my emotionally clouded mind thought would work.
We spoke everyday for a few weeks, and then decided to meet. He invited me to his house, and I was only too thrilled to go. He lived in the hip historical part of town, and his family had built the home fifty years ago. My imagination ran wild imagining what this fashion designer's fortress would look like. When I got there, he met me at the door, but he didn't have to. The entire front of the house was a combination of a giant picture window and floor to ceiling panes of glass. When illuminated you could see from the street clear to the back of the house. The carpets were the color of fresh cream, and the furniture that of pure driven snow. I noticed furniture I had only ever seen on "Cribs" and was a bit taken aback by all of my surroundings. In the very rear of the house, next to a spiral stair case with a backdrop of two story floor to ceiling windows, was a statue of Buddha bigger than me.
He immediately started to kiss me as the soundtrack from the year 1989 bellowed in the background. The kissing was so horrible I tried to keep my mind on other things, like that Buddha in the background. In my head all I could thing was "At least this will make Lincoln jealous. At least I'm getting material for my book", anything to reconcile myself with what was happening. He led me into the bedroom and asked me to undress. Starved for affection and still on a mission of revenge, I obliged. We climbed into his bed which had the softest sheets I have ever felt in my life. It was like butter rubbing against my skin. He began to stroke his cock and instructed me to pleasure myself. I knew from our conversations that mutual masturbation was a fantasy of his. This way we were both getting off, but with little intimacy. We commenced our pleasure session and then proceeded to the bottom floor of the house where we conversed for a bit. I made sure to point out that we had a mutual friend, Lincoln. He began to speak of him, and I couldn't help but think, this is the most interested I've ever been in this man. He mentioned they had had lunch a few months ago (which I knew, I was seeing Lincoln at the time, and I'm an expert Facebook stalker) and that Lincoln had discussed his future with him. A future at that time I didn't know wasn't to include me. Although I knew about Lincoln's pipe dreams, I never thought they would come to fruition. However, according to Louis, he had taken every reckless step towards realizing his dream. What could the dreams of an overly successful, intelligent, bachelor be? Why, to open a bar of course!
At this point I was done with the situation. I had came, seen, done, literally. Louis had gotten what he wanted from the situation. I had made the remark early on that I didn't want to be used and tossed aside, and Louis assured me that wouldn't be the case. But as you will learn over, and over, and over again, in this story, in many more, in your own lives: they all say things you want to hear.
As soon as I left Louis' house, I turned on my Lincoln song on my iPhone, turned it up as loud as I could handle, and reflected. Before I had made it halfway home, I text Lincoln. I said I had heard a song and was thinking about a tryst of ours. I had nothing to lose, it was worth a try. Little did I know that I had just opened myself up to be hurt and disappointed yet again by Lincoln.
We both made a few friendly attempts at texting, but it was clear to us both, we had used each other for what we needed and there was no point in conversing anymore. As per usual, I pretend like everything is just fine. I never let my feelings show, never let them see the crazy girl who has built up a fantasy life in her head for the two of us, never let them see my broken heart. If there's one thing I've learned about dating influential men, is that you will see them again on your long crawl to the top, and you need to be on good terms.
People sometimes ask me why am I attracted to these men? Some of whom (like Louis) are not physically attractive. The only answer I can come up with is I want what they have. No, not just the McMansions and bottomless bank accounts, but their drive, their intelligence, their ambition, their passion, their understanding...and yes, their giant houses and plethora of wealth.
♠ ♠ ♠
Could use a little clean up, maybe some more details.