“Out of all the good looking girls at school, you’ve still got it. Others haven’t” – so said an old friend that I met yesterday.
He went on to say that he was being absolutely serious. Over the years, he’d met quite a few of what he deemed to be ‘fit birds’ with whom he had spent his formative years but none of them had managed to maintain their sparkle, their good looks and their charm. I, on the other hand, had done so.
Flattery will get him everywhere. He has lost none of his ability to charm either, and for an instant, I was most grateful for his observations, irrespective of whether there was an ounce of truth in them.
The fact is I never thought I was good looking. I knew that there were certain features of mine that appealed to certain people but I was not good looking. Not only that, but I wasn’t really that interested in my appearance either. I never plastered my face with make-up. I never learned how to apply eye shadow. I just did what I did to look presentable. I was and continue to be completely unconfident of my looks and hope that those who know me see beyond the features of me physical being.
But this comment did make me think, as little asides tend to do. What was this man actually seeing as good looking? What was it that made him think I had maintained my looks?
Recently, I have got in touch with a few old school friends via the social networking site. They too have made comment about my appearance; that I look as they expected, that I haven’t changed and that I am still as beautiful as ever.
This genuinely surprises me. I am quite astonished at these comments and the very fact that they are voiced.
What are they seeing? What are they seeing that I cannot see in myself?
Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the beholder but the definition of beauty is far greater than that. What I think they are possibly seeing, is an image of a woman who, on the face of it, seems contented and calm, who is happy with her lot and who is assured to a certain extent. The fact is that I am none of these, and yet simultaneously, I am sometimes all of these.
I am beginning to think that what they see is a woman who is sexually fulfilled.
I think that sexually fulfilled people show it on their faces. We jest about whether someone is a “goer” or not. Ever played that particular game, when you walk around or do a spot of people watching and decide whether they are likely to be a decent fuck or not?
I have, and there are clear differentiations.
I have seen some stunningly good looking women but as soon as you look further than the explicit beauty on their faces or beyond their perfectly shaped bodies, you can see no sexual spirit. You can imagine them looking utterly divine lying naked on a bed but simultaneously, you can imagine them being totally unadventurous or even excited about the prospect of decent sex.
They are no goers. They are devoid of sexual presence. They look good but they don’t convey any feeling of being sexual beings.
Conversely, you might see a decent looking person who has a slight flaw of sorts. They may not be tall enough or they may be more portly than desired, yet they have that twinkle, that sparkle that makes you know they are having a fucking good sex life.
These people do not have a physical twinkle. It isn’t that their eyes are more sparkly or that their posture is more pronounced. They just have something that is indescribable but present.
It might be that they are not sexually stimulated but they certainly have the capacity to be so. There is just something that defines people as “goers” that does not rely on the clothes they are wearing or the natural beauty of the being.
I’ve always wondered about this so-called Gayometer. My gay friends do have this ability to spot a gay man a million miles before I do, and my Gaydar is actually relatively well-tuned. They don’t talk or look in a different way but within walking into a bar or a museum or simply walking along a busy street, my friends can spot the homosexuals.
Is there a heterosexual equivalent? I think there possibly is. It is the “Goerometer”; the one that I have just described. I think that sexually enlightened people who are in tune and comfortable with their own sexuality can spot similar people who are likely to be goers too. Sometimes they are easier to spot than other times. Sometimes, the clothes they wear make it clear that they are ‘goers’, though one has to be extremely careful in making such a statement. The abuse of assumption is painfully too obvious to the extent that one should never assume that a woman who is revealing her cleavage is up for a grab. They are not!
How this phenomenon happens I have no idea but it is more generalist than an attraction thing. That is different, though of course the Goerometer can trigger in a meeting with an equally attractive person.
You may look at Goers using your inbuilt goerometer and simply recognise them as sexual beings without wanting to take them down a side street to fuck the living daylights out of them. All you are doing is acknowledging their sexuality.
With attraction, it is different. You do want to do something about these goers. You want the full, unadulterated extent of their sexuality deep inside you; the deeper the better.
What I think my long lost friend saw yesterday was a woman who was a bit of a goer. I’m not suggesting that he imagined me sitting with my legs sprawled awaiting some action, and as charming as this man is, I have never found him remotely attractive so there wasn’t that mutual attraction thing going on at all. But I do think there is something telling in certain faces, in my face, that I am a woman who needs sexual fulfilment.
The external beauty that comes from that sexual fulfilment is there for people to see if they are looking for it, maybe even if they are not.
A few years ago, I met another friend who I hadn’t seen for some time. She took one look at me and asked me how my sex life was. She knew instantly that I was having the best sex of my life, though I denied it completely, and in a similar way that I have done with others, I made her doubt her intuition. But believe me, she had seen it. She had recognised something in me that was different from the last time I had seen her. I was officially now a “goer”. I had reached, or so I thought, my sexual peak. It was not going to get better than this. I was a sexual being and I was bloody determined to maintain this.
Vulva juice. There is a perfume that emulates the scent of pussy. How cool is that? I really must get some to see if it does what it says on the box, but goers don’t need this scent to show that they are sexual beings, though I really like the idea of smelling of sex to exacerbate what other people are already thinking about my sexuality. Goers use their goerometer to notice someone else’s sexuality, though there is nothing wrong with using as many senses as possible to increase your sexual pleasure.
My friends, I think, have seen this part of me without being able to actually attribute this so-called beauty to the sexuality that I have embraced.
I still think they would be shocked to consider how much this woman is empowered by her sexuality. I still think they would be incredibly shocked to know how much this woman wants to look at pornography, wants to fuck as often as possible, wants to be filmed spraying her come across a room, wants to kiss women and men simultaneously, how she wants to gag on her lover’s cock.
I still think, despite them looking into the eyes of this particular goer, that they would not see any of that.
After all, I’m a sweet little innocent in their eyes.
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