As a single woman, I was a shameless flirt. In some circles, I was known as a slut. I have no shame in saying that, and in fact, I kind of reveled in my ill-repute.
Do you guys know how I met Thomas? It wasn't that he sized me up. I sized him up. I spied him from across the room, and made sure that he asked for my number by the end of the day. It's so easy to play, especially when the two people involved are adults who know how to play the game.
I have been so far faithful to my husband. I have no plans in cheating on him. If I wanted to, I could've done so in Spain. To be honest, I was repulsed by the machismo in Spain, in how they made it so obvious that that wanted me, and not because they found me pretty. Remember that Friends episode where Joey and Chandler got free cable porn? I think that free access to pornography has spoiled the id in those men, and thought that every elevator encounter would end up in bed. And another thing, I am very discriminating when it comes to taste and looks. If I don't find you hot, your chances with me are zero. Barcelona is an anomaly in the Mediterranean: The girls are unbelievably hot, the men are ugly. I swear, the ratio of hot girls to guys is 4:1.
Sometimes, the predator in me misses the chase. Thomas and I have no fast rules when it comes to flirting, and it never really occurred to me to do it. I haven't found anybody worthwhile to flirt with...yet. However, I have this weird craving for attention, to flirt with someone, to make myself pretty and make somebody fall in love with me and crush their hearts with my heel. I don't want to deny it, since that will make it worse. I want to channel it to something else. I need to chase after something. I don't know what.
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