alpha male

All posts tagged alpha male

Come Hither

Published July 4, 2013 by Sandee

I don’t flirt usually unless I already know you.  If I flirt with a man I don’t know, it means I’m overpowered by chemistry.  I saw a man near Park Avenue once, and had an animal reaction.  I locked into him and shuddered a little.  He wasn’t conventionally handsome.  There was just something alpha about him.  He looked at me, and appeared to be nodding subtly to communicate that he understood my reaction — this is part of the reason I think he had alpha chemistry.  He might have been used to this reaction?

I probably flirt with girls more.  I used to be fearful of boys.  They fucked with me when I was sick in junior high school.  They were mean and teased me mercilessly because I was emaciated and flat-chested.  When I got out of the hospital after a month, and got meat on my bones, things changed.  They asked if I had been at the farm — haha!

I’m not a lesbian, but I used to like girls better.  I didn’t gush around boys, I tensed up.   I remember playing in the pool with some boys and girls.  The boys dunked the girls, and they giggled — squealed.  I was horrified.  They’d come at me and my eyes widened, and there would be no giggling — I scratched the shit out of them.  I was frightened of the water and the boys were so overpowering.

I was curious — and suspicious — about girlfriends who had ‘friendships’ with boys.  Although I had boyfriends, I didn’t care to just be hanging around dudes.  I cared about impressing them, but from a distance.

In my thirties, I relaxed, and allowed myself to be “friends” with a couple of guys.  But I knew it’d probably be bullshit.  I had a girlfriend who said she preferred male friends to women friends.  I asked if she was fucking those male “friends.”  “Well, yeah,” she said — hahahahaha!

I believed there would always be an underlying agenda with mixed sex friendships.  In most cases, both would probably need their sexuality validated in some way and that would negate the platonic part.  I wrote a brilliant novel with this premise, but it has yet to be recognized as such — ha!

So, I tried the platonic ‘thing’ with a guy.  We spent most of the time almost fucking, and actually did twice.  Finally I had to let him go.  He turned out to be dishonest.  It just confirmed my theory.  While I do call a few men ‘friends’, I still have difficulty with the concept.  But nowadays, I’m trying to understand men as fleshed out people, and I do like them, not that I ever did really dislike them.

Today I practiced flirting and it worked!  The guy just hung around, asking questions, blushing — ha — so cute!  I think I might be experimenting with this kind of thing more.  Too bad I’m all old and shit trying to do this now.  I’ll keep you posted.

Lord of the Flies

Published October 6, 2012 by Sandee

I was with a man who wanted me to have a baby — blegh!  I wanted nothing to do with them.  Today I referred to a kid as ‘it’.  I had good reason — I didn’t know if it was a girl or a boy — so I had to ask the dad, “What is it?”

My sister has two boys, so now I like kids, and feel sympathetic to little parasitical beasts all around.  But I’m glad I didn’t breed and still harbor a strong anti-procreational streak — what would planet earth do with my spawn?  I’m narcissistic, nihilistic, and a nervous nelly — I’m not a physical specimen and not good at math — AND — I know nothing of  building rocket ships.  Perhaps though for some reason beyond me, the earth did need my spawn for some large part of the picture that doesn’t necessarily suit me and my ego.  I say maybe it ‘did’ because it’s too late  now.  Having a kid now would be selfish and dangerous because I’m old.  I’ll be fifty.   Here’s a good reason why I shouldn’t — how I turned my nephew’s carefree day at the playground into the Lord of the Flies.

I want my nephews to be bully-proof alpha males.  I want them to be in the good guy tribe from The Lord of the Flies, unafraid to stand up for what’s right, and while using their brains to fight battles, like the finest general, they will have valiant physical prowess — oh yeah — and the older one will be a neurosurgeon and the little one will be an astrophysicist.  They will be extremely well-adjusted, have lots of fine friends and will be indebted to Auntie Sandor Sword-Chinned Bitch until the day she dies.  That’s why when we went to the park, I chased behind my then 3 year old nephew to make sure no kids tried blocking his way to any one of the slides.  I won’t get into specifics.  I’ll just say that my sister told me, “No, Sandee, you can’t do that!  They’re just kids.”

I watched the kids play as if watching war games.  My nephew got into it with an older kid.  The kid says during a break in their shoot ’em up game, “You don’t know anything about guns!”  And check this out, my nephew screams, “YOU don’t know anything about guns!”  He pointed vehemently, his whole body shook.  He got the last word — yeah!  When we got home I high-fived him about it, out of view from anyone who might judge me as an ass.

It was an exhausting day, trying to figure out where he’d fit in the tribe.  Back home I wanted to cry.  “Sandee — he was having a good time — calm down,” my sister says.  Yeah?  Doesn’t she know there’s politics in the playground?!  Next time I’ll tell you about the horror of a kid’s birthday party.