I’d just worked a full day in stilettos and a short skirt, so even though I’d changed to go play pool - something about my energy felt a little frisky and outwardly sexual.

Enter Nick. He joined our game when he was already a little tipsy but had no problem pulling off complicated shots.  I took the opportunity to study him for a few hours.

Let me be honest for the duration of this post, I’ve admired Nick for some time – but I have judged him harshly for reasons that once I broke them down, it looks like this…

People who are beautiful and know it are often difficult for me to take seriously.  This may be a personal failing on my part, but I’ll have to pick apart why later. What I’ve developed over time, is a friction to the aloofness that often comes with those types that walk around with a sense of entitlement because they are used to attention – be it good or bad attention, and just like my previous post about feeling like the ugly duckling – I suspect that the “pretty” folk suffer from the same sorts of insecurities and sense of exclusion that others who think of themselves as less attractive must feel. Only their insecurities are most likely fed by the fear that they will never be wanted/loved/appreciated on their merits/skills/talents without being wanted for their looks. I asked him if he gets misjudged a lot. He admitted he does.

Bummer.

So I have this friction that when I’m attracted to a pretty man who knows he’s pretty – I develop a juvenile attitude and treat them somewhat condescending (different than my usual condescending nature), in an effort to protect myself from them. This is the equivalent to being on the playground and liking a boy so you run over and kick them in the shin for good measure. Clearly, if they know you like them – they will understand it is a love kick. Right?

Anywhoo, I asked a bunch of personal questions and he answered, a little defensive at first, but as he warmed up I think I got to see a little more of the Nick behind the wall and all I could think about as I fell asleep last night was – “Poor kid.”

I know he could sense my interest and kept his distance even though a fun banter opened up.  I’m cool with that. While I can openly admit to finding him attractive, I can also understand it is not rooted in any sort of depth – it’s purely superficial, because I don’t really know him.

I’m attracted to intelligence. He has it in spades as a mechanical engineer, and a quiet observation of the world around him. Dreaded hair and an easy smile he also carries his body with a languid familiarity and fluid confidence. But he is also closed off - afraid and from where I watched him as we played pool, I could understand why.

I will try to take him more seriously, tone down my friction and pull back my energy.  

That being said, I’m having dinner tonight with a man who is equally as attractive but seemingly has no idea he’s so attractive. The comparison is astronomically different. While both are decidedly intelligent, my “self protection” mechanism has not kicked in around Jordan.  I find myself more willing to reach, less fearful of condemnation, and happily ready to have him in my space. Both men are charming, both are educated and independent but where I see a hardness in Nick as he tries to keep himself from getting hurt or overextending – I see in Jordan an exhilaration to be open. Faith in the experience. A willingness to jump despite the consequences.

And I have to admit – that fearlessness, that “to hell with them that judge me” attitude is entirely disarming. I have no recourse for it but to be in awe and inspired.

As I am opening again and things in me are reawakening after the long sleep of healing. I am more certain than ever that I will never again put myself in the space or rhythm of someone who doesn’t WANT me there.  I will never again be the convenient girl or the “till something better comes along” woman.

With that in mind I have no interest in love kicks in the shins. And what is far more attractive to me than anything – anything at all. Is the knowledge that I am chosen. That, hands down, is the sexiest thing ever.

And precisely why I’m fixing dinner for Jordan tonight, and why I will likely never ask Nick out.