Sex Appeal

Everyone has a "type" that they attract. Mine has always been "unavailable men." Usually, this takes the form of married men, but I've had a few "emotionall unavailable" thrown in there for fun, as well as the requisite number of "distance relationships."

But, married men love me. They flock to me. I have, at any given time, a veritable stable of them paying me sly compliments. I have always thought this is because I am a good flirt: I am playful, but I know where to draw the line, and how forcefully to draw it. This makes me fun, but invariably safe. I am not going to allow anyone to fall in love with me; I am not going to fall in love with anyone. I am not going to push things any farther than simple flirtation, ever.

As a side note, my problem with the "emotionally unavailable" has always stemmed from the fact that I will fall in love with them, and want them to reciprocate, because they should be available, and so I don't follow the strictures I usually place myself under. They, then, of course do not fall in love with me, and all manner of heartache ensues.

I like this explanation. It says that there's nothing inherently wrong with me, that I attract married men like flies. It's even pretty flattering of both my skill with manipulation and my self-control.

And who doesn't like a good ego-stroke, even if it is self-administered?

But I've been faced with the possibility lately that this explanation may be complete horseshit.

Certainly, the fact that I'm "safe" is probably the root of the reason that I seem to have so many married or otherwise involved or unavailable admirers. But my safety may have nothing to do with anything I consciously do or not do.

I may just be sexually unappealing. Period. Full stop.

It fits just as well. I'm good with words, I'm occasionally very witty, and I can be a lot of fun to be with. At the same time, lack of sex appeal would make me undeniably safe.

It also works with some of the more disastrous of my relationships. My ex-husband, for example, never wanted to lay a finger on me amorously. I always attributed this to his hang up, considering the other issues we faced. But maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was, in fact, me. My very first serious relationship was with a man when I was a senior in high school, and we didn't have sex for the last three months of our time together. I have always thought that that was because I stopped wanting to have sex with him, but maybe it was mutual.

And then there's the nebulous and hazy baby daddy. We had a very intense relationship, but we were very far apart for most of it. Perhaps ultimately he abandoned me because while our correspondence was intense and enlightening and thought-provoking and full of all manner of wonderful discovery and sparkling dialog, there was no corresponding physical spark.

It's an interesting possibility. And I say "interesting" in the most euphemistic way possible. Intellectually, it's interesting. Personally, it's pretty devastating.