Written by Velvet :: [Thursday, 30 March 2006 16:12] Last updated by :: [Thursday, 14 February 2013 15:19]
by Velvet Belle Tree
WRITTEN FOR SGI WORKSHOP 2.4
You’d think that being an ubergirl I’d have a fantastic love life. Well, it just ain’t so. So what if I’m gorgeous and famous. If you think men would be falling over themselves trying to date me, let me disabuse you of that idea.
Where to begin? Well, let’s take the jocks. They thrive on impressing women with their strength and skill and they know my strength makes them look puny. Then, of course, there are the guys who like their women sweet and soft and compliant. Definitely not me. Then there are guys who feel they have to tower over women, so at 6 feet 1 inch, that leaves a lot of them out. I wouldn’t want a tiny guy, but hey, when you’re lying down, what does height matter?
Then, there are the guys who would like to date me, but are too scared. Look, just because I can break a guy in two doesn’t mean I’m going to. Just because I have a super libido doesn’t mean I have no control. My exploits are all well known. I’ve never hurt anyone who wasn’t in the middle of committing a crime. I can be gentle when appropriate. I mean, even a ferocious tigress carries her young gently with her mouth. I have perfect control of my muscles – all my muscles, external and internal – get my drift?
Then there are the guys who date me for the wrong reason. They just want to be able to boast that they made it with me. Their ardor often wanes when I make it clear that if I found out that they did any boasting, I’d make sure they could never have a sexual exploit to boast about again.
Now, I have nothing against guys who are in awe of me, but sometimes it can go too far. There was this guy – I don’t know how he ever got up the nerve to ask me out – who was so awestruck that he had trouble putting enough words together to make a coherent sentence. You can be sure he didn’t get back into my apartment to continue the evening.
At the opposite extreme, there were men who talked a blue streak and mainly about themselves. All they wanted to do was to impress me. They knew I couldn’t be impressed by physical strength, but they thought that I would be impressed by what powerful men they were – who they knew and what great wheeler-dealers they were.
Then there were some guys who seemed OK but then got weird when we returned home for the intimate part of the date. One guy wanted me to strip and then let him shoot bullets at me so he could experience my invulnerability. “Are you nuts?” I said. “You ever hear the word ricochet? You want the bullets to wind up going through you or my apartment?”
Another guy said he had this fantasy about overpowering and raping me. “You know that’s impossible,” I told him. “I know, I know,” he answered. “But can’t we pretend?” Well, it seemed ridiculous to me, but I figured why not, it couldn’t hurt me and the guy was really pleading. So I let him tie me up. What the hell did it matter? I could break the bonds with no effort whenever I wanted to. I refused, however, to pretend that I was scared. Even so, the scenario excited him. In fact, it excited him so much that the whole thing was over in a matter of minutes. He thanked me abjectly. Me, I was really bored. In fact, I think it was the worst sex I’ve ever had.
Of course, I have found a way to have great sex. I mean, I gotta do something to satisfy my super size libido. So I go to another city and I go in disguise. A rinse to dull my flaming red hair, brown contact lenses to hide my emerald green eyes. And then I meet the men in a dimly lit bar. Why would any of them figure out who I really am? They don’t look too closely anyway, they just want sex, the same as I do. Some of them want to talk first and that’s a problem. It’s hard for me to carry on a conversation with a made up identity, pretending to be from someplace I know little about. But I just turn the conversation back to him and hint that it’s time to go up to his room – where we find much better things to do than talk.
But I want more … more than just anonymous sex … more than a guy who just wants to make it with an ubergirl. I’d like some real romance. OK, I’ll admit it. I’d like to find real love. Why not? There must be some guy out there who wants to get to know me and can love me. I might not be like an ordinary woman, but I’m basically human. So I keep looking … keep trying.
Tonight I have a date with Danny. I met him when I was giving an interview at a local TV station where he works. He’s nice looking but not handsome enough to make him conceited. He seems to have a quiet confidence that I really like. After the interview he just said to me: “I know you must be very busy, but would you like to have dinner with me some time?” I told him that I would be happy to.
There he is at the door now. “Hi Danny”
“Hi, yourself.” He’s looking me over and smiling. “You look really great.” Now he’s laughing. “In fact, you look super.”
I think things might really work out this time. Wish me luck.