#but my emotions flip flop as easy as flipping a coin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kuraikyu · 10 months

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@elegiies : Each tap of buttons produces his expression to become unreadable. With his pink tongue held tight between teeth, dark lenses illuminate as they slide down the tip of his nose. Then, his head tilts, one cheek puffing outwards comically like a squirrel storing its treasures. "Huuuuhh...!" the word leaves his mouth, elongated in the most drawn out effect, suddenly he swaps view of the digital screen. "Hey! This creature reminds me of you" the pink ball inhaling everything in its sight as he has to fight back his laughter, failing terribly at it. Azure hues glimmer with mischief as Satoru snickers, "If only you were pink && squishable"

ㅤ𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑. The eternity of rejoicing spree of youth, laughter, and Summer wellspring in understanding unison of two anomalies wandering wast borders of concise lifetime. Sounds of rustling leaves in distant forest shrouded by coating morning mist signalized a moderate raise of wind, but it was still not enough and too hot to be hanging around in anything else than natural fabrics and flip-flops; let alone consume a thing. It reminded him of their common time in Okinawa. So he revised optimal alternative. Something light and nutrimental, taking only a few minutes to prepare on a deadly weapon -- frying pan.

Ever since Satoru began his hard training he would become quite restless. Despite his queer behavior, Suguru was slightly concerned with his new obsessive diet consisting mainly of sugar and snacks. Primarily the Curse Eater wasn't sure about the village name he was going to be sent to but before each of them would take their leave, he wanted to make sure Satoru eats at least some 'relatively' 'healthy' slice.

Although, he felt finally distracted from tightening darkness blooming in his chest whenever he remembered he has to go back, among non-Sorcerers and exorcise; over and ov- ...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ... how utterly, terribly /𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠/.

Geto nearly bit back a quiver that would hang loose on his lip corner when someone (*who) woke up later re-joined him; and of course, he would detect the presence of his dearest friend even with a blindfold.

The albino mumbles something recognizable through increasing sizzles of the pan, so Suguru looks over his shoulder.

With how he scouts the Master of Six Eyes' comical output, his attention stands with click of heel, taking a moment to meander nearby and look properly at what another heartbeat to the same coin tried to show him. Expression on Geto's face was quite a thing to see as if he has seen pipeweed for the first time. That until he came to conclusion that he wants his deadpan to look offended, so he poutily puckered lips in a pretentious duck face accompanied by a faint frown. His breathing evened out, but before he would listen any more closely ... Satoru was already doomed to face opposition.

" Beg your pardon? Since when you get to call me things without my say? " As if he was begging with sincerity for quiet admission or untangle the meaning. In all fact — it has taken a certain amount of glee to not laugh at these twisted mockeries, but his emotions betrays timbre of his tone and easy chuckle flows out.

His inquisitive self looks once more at console screen as if this time re-checking more properly.

" No, Satoru, it looks more like you, '' and it took him almost everything to make it sound flatly with rakish grin of his slip while toying with such implication all the while, " in terms of Pink & squishable. I take the credit for the rest. " Was he wrong at all? That would count only in terms of --, wait, what do these kids say nowadays? Ah, if only pink is the new black!

Now that he received from the situation a word that vast attacker have been quelled, it was now safe to pursue his seat spot and spare conscious melodrama with both plates of Savoury Crêpes reflexively placed on the table. Black glasses slide lower on Gojo's nose-bridge granting him nearly brisk glance at his own contoured reflection illuminated by grandeur duvet of crystalline blues that would sail him away and away into oblivious contemplation. He keeps looking for a solid moment and then switches at cutlery, opening soda can and pouring each of them full glass.

'' Tsch, you're lucky I can inhale in only curses! '' A playful threat? A playful threat ... One could only hope not to take lightly presence of mind and demeanor of even pleasantries. After all, the guy with such coy demure at the other side of the table was prone to undercut chair leg when one expects it the least. If the Honored One ever tried to make sense of his unidentifiable expression, he would as well capture a small fragment of misdemeanor reflecting in nothingness of Suguru's dark eyes, and he would also know that whenever that would cross radar of his notice - future mischief was coming.

#elegiies #!Satoru #Muse: Geto #VERSE (past) : ⑆ㅤㅤㅤcracks in golden seal.#Geto vc: how dare you bring Kirby into our food fights —#{ Don't you think I don't see chu lurking about Mona !! (✧ ✧ ) *crack knuckles* HECK let's get this salt party started. }#{ Not me making this in fact worse ... terribly /worse/ like I always do and causing crepes to be his last meal with Satoru before leaving #next time he eats it would be with Mimiko and Nanako at Takeshita street. *SOBS* except they are sweet not salty. }#{ crepes -> is the new war }#反応‚ㅤ╱ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 reacted.

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impossible-rat-babies · 2 years

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🚆🌪️☄️ for pollux!

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

theoretically, he’s in the mind of divert the track to kill one person. Easy enough in the logical and strictly numerical sense of five lives being worth more than one life. And his gut would say to save five and not one. But, after more thought he would most likely be unable to participate—thus killing five people instead. Or if such a situation existed to where he himself is a participant and a victim in said situation, then it stands to reason he could willing put himself in front of the tracks to save six people. He is presumably the only one in the situation who has agency as well, so to keep the lives of others safe, it’s worth it to lose his own.

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

Besides getting rid of the side cut? lmao beyond that he’s changed as my art style has shifted, but the core details are all still there. Personality wise, he’s much more…flip flop between anger and despair rather than floating in a miasma of indifference. Not in a caricature like bipolar, but in his anger and despair are two sides of the same coin. They have the same root cause: trying to find a way to survive. The anger is a way of soothing and channeling that despair into short lived action. It’s a way of taking another step forward—or rather a sprint forward. The anger is a poor parent to his despair, but anger is the easiest emotion for him to reach for. (Me assigning him the sin of wrath like.)

That’s the biggest one that comes to mind, beyond shifts and changes as he gets put into different if and oc stuff.

I used to be more cautious in playing if stuff and whatnot, but nowadays it’s like. if I wanna find something I will, but I have a character going on and wanna keep to the mold. I should do that less, if I’m honest.

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

physically the short stature and lankiness translates to folks underestimating his brute force and his knowledge of his own strengths and weaknesses he can leverage in a situation. He doesn’t have much brute force, but he knows how and where to punch or kick to make the most out of that. So that assumption is incorrect.

Other assumptions are. often correct lmao at least surface sorts of assumptions. He purposefully wears parts of his personality on his sleeves: the resting bitch face, the way he carries himself, etc. It’s all him, it’s just taking these few traits and constructing a mask out of them so people’s assumptions lead to the conclusion of Don’t Mess With Me.

#thank you friend! this is. Very late but I wanted to scream bout my baby #oc talk: pollux

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

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Change My Name

A/N: i’m trash and decided to write the Nikolai POV of the underwater kiss of @wafflesandkruge ‘s pirate au. Thanks for allowing me to be a trash for this content Tiff KLJHSADFKLJ

A bit steamy maybe.

Word count: 3422

AO3

Nikolai had always prided himself as a gentleman. Especially growing up in the palace, even as the second prince—or the bastard, according to his older brother—he really had to learn the manners a royal ought to have.

So when he tried to offer his help in rowing the boat and got rejected, it did prick at his pride dramatically. But he decided not to complain further as he wouldn’t be exhausted in guiding them to saints-know-where Zoya was planning to take them.

“Where are we going?” Nikolai asked, not wanting to sound so eager, but failing. He fixed the hat that she had put earlier on his head, but it only slid back down to the side as the boat swayed along with the waves.

It was the first time he was alone with the captain, and his mind was half-thinking of ways he could capture the infamous Zoya Nazyalensky and half-panicking that he was alone with her. The latter thought was rather unfitting for his true intention of letting himself be taken hostage, but the distraction in the form of the woman in front of him was making it difficult for him to focus. Those two weeks with her on the ship had made him stray from what he was supposed to do.

And yet he found himself not minding one bit.

Zoya glared at him. “None of your business,” she said curtly, just as he had expected.

Nikolai bit back a laugh and shrugged, leaning off to the side to look at the waters instead. But doing so only reminded him of the color of her eyes. He shoved away the thought. Not the best time to be thinking about her when he had a much bigger thing to prioritize.

Perhaps he should just jump into water and try to escape, or take off with the boat once Zoya was distracted enough once they finally landed.

Both sounded idiotic, but they were the only ideas he could think of.

Or maybe he should just tag along with it, see where it would go, and he found it dangerously tempting.

Soon enough, they arrived at their destination, a cove surrounded with high rock walls, the beach completely secluded and hidden from plain sight unless one sailed their way there or they somehow landed on the cliffs above. Nikolai raised an eyebrow as he eyed the surroundings.

Had Zoya brought him here to dispose of him?

But when she only flopped down on the sand after they secured the boat, his mind went to utter confusion. She couldn’t have possibly trusted him enough to let him leave her sight or even be around her for more than a few minutes. Though looking at her now, with her eyes closed and at ease, he realized that she didn’t mind having him there.

Nikolai couldn't help a smile on his lips, and it wasn't because of the triumph of having the captain to finally trust him even for a bit. She had agreed to let him out of the ship when he requested it, sure enough it was a small step towards gaining her full trust. Not that he needed anything as worthless as a pirate's trust, but he still found himself trying.

It got him thinking, what satisfaction would it bring him if he ever was successful in gaining her trust, only to crush it after? Two weeks ago, he wouldn't have minded. It was appalling that for a short time, he had let his emotions get the best of him again, and it was him that was getting reeled in instead of her.

He chose to run around the beach for a while, trying to find his way to escape. Or so he thought he was doing. He covered up for his scheming by occasionally calling out to her about the things he was able to find around. At the far end of the beach there was a small cave in the corner of the cliff wall, and he made his way towards it.

The cove was big enough to fit a crouching person inside, but the space was already occupied with a half-buried chest in the sand. Nikolai frowned as he approached the small casket that bore the Liliyana's crest.

He raised an eyebrow, looking back over his shoulder to where Zoya was. Was the beach her secret place? Curiosity got the best of him and then he was opening the chest.

Various metal objects filled the box, mostly coins and tarnished jewelry, but what captured his eyes was the blunt dagger on top of the pile. He examined the weapon, taking note of the messy carvings in its hilt, the jagged edges of Zoya barely visible on the worn out surface.

A smile appeared on his lips as he pictured a little, grumpy Zoya wielding the dagger as if it were a sword.

He put the weapon back in the chest and closed it, but not before snatching some of the cheap jewelry that he could use later.

Nikolai got out of the small cave, wandering aimlessly to find any escape routes again.

There wasn't really anywhere to go unless he took the boat they'd used and left her here.

It was the most rational means to run off, but he found that it didn't sit well with him.

All because his actual mission actually involved capturing her, not leaving her behind where he would have to chase her all over again.

Nikolai eventually resigned that he was stuck there in the cove with Zoya, so he came back to the spot where she was before, and found that she was still lying down with her eyes closed.

His heart did a strange flip at the sight. She looked calm and peaceful, so unlike the usual stoic demeanor she had whenever she was commanding her ship.

She was nothing like the stories he'd heard passed around in port towns.

Zoya Nazyalensky is a witch. Has to be, with the way she keeps slipping the authorities.

Nazyalensky is a cruel woman. Heard she once had a man killed for looking at her funny.

At first, he didn't have a hard time believing them. The Stormwitch, they called her, the terror of the seas. And when he was given the opportunity to try and capture her, he was beyond determined to take whatever titles she had earned for herself and drown them in the seas that she claimed as her territory.

But looking at her now, after spending two whole weeks with her and trying to find the same drive he once had to capture her, Nikolai realized it wasn't as strong as before. He might have even said that he couldn't find the reason to.

The Zoya he'd come to know was fierce, yes. Fiercely loyal and protective. Unwavering to her goal that always involved the greater good. But never cruel.

For once, he didn't know if he had the heart to accomplish his actual objective anymore.

Nikolai slumped down onto the sand beside her. "So," he started, trying to take advantage of the easy air around them, "this is your beach?"

A ghost of a smile twitched on her lips. "Correct," she said. "I'm Queen Zoya of the Driftwood and Tides. You may address me as Your Majesty."

He huffed a laugh. It was so unlike her to humor him with that kind of answer. Something was really different with her today, and he figured he didn't want whatever it was to go away just yet.

Impulsively, he took her hand and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of it. "It is truly the honor of my lifetime to meet you, then, Your Majesty," he said, and he realized that there was a slight truth to his words.

Zoya snatched her hand back as if she were burned, but the redness in her cheeks didn't escape his eyes. "Isn't touching royalty without their permission punishable by death?"

"Oh, yes," he said, laying beside her and propping his head up with a fist. He looked at her with a teasing gleam in his eyes. "A very painful one. But I can’t even begin to imagine what they’d do to someone who kidnaps a prince and brings him to a secret pirate hideaway.”

She looked back up to the sky and closed her eyes again. "Only if that bastard Sturmhond catches me," Zoya grumbled, and Nikolai visibly swallowed. Had she not closed her eyes, he knew she would've seen through the change of his demeanor and demanded him to tell what he knew. "He's been unsuccessful for years. And as far as I'm concerned, he can die trying."

Nikolai covered up his uneasiness with a loud sneeze, and he saw her eyebrows furrow slightly but she didn't open her eyes. There had been far too many close calls in the ship before, with her gaze becoming more and more wary of Tamar every time the latter was talking to him.

He could only hope that Zoya would catch on with them.

Amidst the growing panic in his mind, an idea popped into his head.

"Stay here." Then he was scrambling to his feet.

"How dare you order a royalty around?" He heard her call out, but there wasn't the usual venom in her tone. A smile twitched on his lips. He needed to do something to distract him from the weight of her previous words to him, so he figured he might do a little surprise.

Besides, Nikolai didn't know how long before the truth came to crash between them and drive them apart.

He had time for now.

***

The damned chains finally clicked after several slips from his fingers, and he smiled triumphantly. It looked good, to him at least, and he held it close to his eyes to appreciate it. He could only hope that she would too.

Nikolai felt her presence before she spoke.

"What are you doing?" Her voice came from somewhere near behind him, and he immediately jumped to his feet.

"Stop!" he said, holding his arms up as if to hide what he was doing. He knew he looked a bit petty with his attempt, and he felt his ears go hot. "It's a surprise. Turn around."

Her scowl didn't waver as she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. She obviously didn't want to be ordered around.

Nikolai sighed. "If I was going to murder you, Zoya dear, I would have slit your throat while you slept," he said, but his words were nothing but a hollow joke. "Lesser chance of you fighting back and damaging my pretty face."

The stubborn expression was still there. "Maybe you like your victims to suffer."

"Trust me," he said, his tone holding enough sincerity that surprised him as well. He blinked. Everything was really coming to backfire at him.

Another moment passed before Zoya finally complied and turned, an exasperated sigh coming out from her lips. Nikolai smiled as he picked up the small crowns and made his way to her.

Her posture was stiff and alert all the while he was approaching her, and he had to stifle a laugh at her reaction. The great captain of the Liliyana fearing for her life? Very unheard of. He decided to mess with her for a bit.

He stopped right behind her, and the scent of wildflowers immediately invaded his nose. He tried not to breathe in more of her as he brought his free hand to her shoulder. As he had expected, she jumped back from his touch.

Nikolai chuckled. "A bit of a high-strung, aren't you?" he said, voice laced with amusement. He started to guide her to the ocean, but he felt her resistance and her attempt to pull away. "We need the water for this to work."

"For what to work?" she demanded. The water was already up to their chests, and she was beginning to struggle a bit more. "Are you drowning me like an unwanted kitten?"

"Nothing of that sort. Close your eyes."

She turned around to protest, her blue eyes sharp and wary at the same time. "Nik—"

"I'm waiting."

Zoya stared back at him incredulously. Nikolai knew she was contemplating whether to strangle him or stab him, and yet he didn't seem to be fazed and he continued to look at her with an expectant expression.

With another exasperated sigh, she shook her head before finally closing her eyes.

He brought his hand that was hiding the crowns from his back, and gently placed one on her head. It had taken him a few hours to mend the thing, letting his love for putting things together drive him to work carefully. He even went as far as going through her things while she was asleep to add the small gems.

But when he looked at her now, with her eyes closed and the gilded crown practically glowing on her head, Nikolai didn’t know if there was anything more beautiful than the sight he was seeing right now.

"Alright," he said, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended, "you can look now."

Zoya opened her eyes. He held his breath as she looked at her reflection in the waters. For a moment, he thought that she considered it petty and childish, and he was ready to brush it off as a mere joke to save his dignity. But when Nikolai saw the vibrant warmth in her eyes, he realized that he'd do anything to see it all over again.

It was then that a single thought struck him, the one that came to his mind the first time he saw her, but never really pondered about it until now. He sucked in a breath as if he had just been punched in the gut.

She was beautiful.

Saints, she was so beautiful.

He slipped a crown of his own just as she looked up at him, and he cleared his throat, trying to remember the tone used in statements during a coronation.

"I crown thee, Zoya Nazyalensky, first of her name, Queen of the Driftwood and Tides, Head of the Cove, Protector of the Seas, Lady of the Sands," he said, each made-up name bringing amusement to her eyes. He found himself smiling softly at the triumph of making the great Captain Nazyalensky amused rather than annoyed with him. He fixed the crown on her head, letting his hand linger for another moment. "Long live the Queen."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "If I'm Queen, then what does that make you?"

Nikolai flourished a hand in the air. "Why, your loyal king consort, of course."

The weather and the waters weren't that cold, but the redness on her cheeks were apparent. "And Prince of Ravka," she said.

"Second Prince," he corrected. "Big difference. And I must say, these crowns I made are much more comfortable than the ones they made me wear back in Ravka."

"Is that so?"

He fought a wince as he tried not to remember the feeling. "It's horrible," he said, wrinkling his nose. Zoya was frowning, expression curious as if urging him to go on. She didn’t break her gaze at him, unwavering, and he was floored from the intensity of her eyes.

Beautiful.

And it was in that moment that his mind narrowed down to a single thought. Nikolai wanted to kiss her.

He knew what he had to do. With a dramatic expression, he added, "After wearing one all day, you develop a horrible ache right" —his hand moved to cup the back of her neck and pulled her closer— "here."

It had been his intention to pull her in, to be nearer to her, and yet every word still seemed to fly out of his mind with their closeness. The current had pushed them nearer to each other, their bodies touching, a situation they never would have dared to be in back on the ship.

There wasn't much space between them, with their chests flush against each other and Zoya had to tilt her head up to look at him. Up close, he noticed that her eyes were of the shade not much different from the seas, and maybe that was why he always felt drawn to them, as they were near the same thing he adored so much.

He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Beautiful.

The lapping waves around them weren't enough to overcome the sound of the erratic beats of his heart nor the voice telling him to close the distance between them.

The seas will help you find your way.

It was something his mentor always liked to say. He almost smiled at the memory; he had never quite believed it back then, as he would say that it was the sailors alone that found their way back.

But now, he didn't think so.

Because the seas helped him find his way and it led him to her.

A stronger current pushed them closer together, and then it was followed by a wave that sent them underwater.

Below the surface, everything was calm and quiet, the feeling of serenity almost strange to him after all the harshness both the seas and the palace had thrown at him. Nikolai looked over at Zoya; her hair was cascading around her like a glowing halo, and if she were a saint, he knew he would get down on his knees and worship her.

His hand was still on the back of her neck, and his free hand slowly came up to cup her cheek. His gaze on her was soft, baring his soul before the storm that took his breath away.

Beautiful.

Nikolai didn't know who moved first, whether it was him or her, or even both, it didn't matter. The moment his lips met hers, he already knew it was over.

He needed her more than air, the taste of her mouth making him feel alive as he felt her hands threading into his hair and his back to kiss him deeper. It would've been enough for him, but the current dragged them up to the surface.

Zoya only had a second to breathe before he was cupping her face with both hands and pulling him to her, and she was meeting him halfway. They tangled again in a mess of eager hands and urgent mouths, neither of them wanting to end the moment.

It was easy to forget everything he was supposed to do, the actual reason why he was here in the first place, but the sighs coming from her mouth made his thoughts slip away and only focus on the feel of her.

Nikolai smoothed her hair back, his lips moving from her mouth to her jaw, and to the spot under her ear. Her hands clutched on his back, and then she was tilting her head back for him. He tightened his grip on her waist as he moved dangerously down from her ear to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, feeling a shiver run through her when he lightly bit down on her skin. He couldn't get enough.

A sharp gasp came from her mouth, her other hand coming up to tangle in his hair. "Nikolai," Zoya breathed, turning his head to capture his lips, and Nikolai fell to her again.

Whether it was minutes or hours that they were tangled in each other's arms, they didn't know. But eventually they figured they still needed to get back to the ship, and as much as they wanted to get lost with each other for a longer time, they had to swim back to the shore, and back to their small boat.

They lay exhausted on the sand right after, both of them trying to catch their breaths before they make their way back to the ship, and back to their reality.

Along with the truth of who Nikolai really was.

"So…" he started, but he was cut off by her voice right away.

"Not—not now." Her tone was begging, almost desperate, very far from the voice that always held sharpness and poison.

Nikolai understood, and he reached for her hand, feeling her fingers close around his as they looked back up the reddening sky.

The truth hung heavily on his shoulders, now that he was already in way too deep with his feelings, but he shoved all the thoughts away.

Right now, nothing had to be said.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #pirate au #my writing #MORE PIRATE CONTENT KJASHFDKJASF #UNDERWATER KISS BC IM TRASH #PLS GO READ TIFF'S ZOYA POV CONTENT IT SLAPS OK #idk im trash for this au #even tho im already trash #loved writing this one sm #got bit carried away tho HHAHA #quite steamy

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papatonyinsandiego · 6 years

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Non-Verbal Communication, Part Two: Distancing Mechanisms and External Validation

Part One Can Be Found Here...

Pretty Privilege

In the gay Leather/Kink/Fetish community, just as in any other culture or subculture, there are the “👍 WINNERS! 👍” and the ….losers…

Are we all sick of that? I sure am. My experience is that 100% of gay kinky men are done with being judged on externals that we have no control over.

It’s a primate-ape fact of life that desirable features make us more fuckworthy. They can also be a trap. I want to talk about it from the other side. Pretty Privilege DOES exist in our Tribe. I have made use of it myself.

Back when I was young, virile and FINALLY getting a lot of approval from men, I attended a lot of five-star, crowded “elite” parties, both clothed and naked. It felt GREAT to be “New Meat” and highly-desirable.

If the gloriously beautiful men around me were bitchy and insecure, then I guessed I would try that on for a while. I got way too good at it. I am ashamed of my behavior back then. A lot of the virtuous acts that I have performed since those days are my atonement for how I fell into bad behaviors for a while.

After a while, though, I noticed something odd. The vast majority of men in my life had no interest in who was inside the pretty exterior. I realized that I was just a mobile dildo to that crowd.

In fact, I got picked-on if I stepped out of bounds in some way. It was like trying to balance on a tightrope of other peoples’ expectations. Fall off, and you would never get back on. It was conditional approval.

The clincher for me occurred after a big fuck-party, when I showed up at Sunday brunch in a Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops and shorts. My brunch companions refused to eat with me, unless I changed back into full black leather. That was the last time that I associated with them, and with that subculture. I happily stepped into a much, much slower lane.

At age 25, I gave up using my privilege at others’ disadvantage. I chose a different path of seeking real and useful wisdom.

Assertions And Declarations

I assert that I am more than what you can see.

There are depths to me that are worth knowing.

I am an amalgam of many flavors, good and bad.

I am not just a single, obvious musical note. I am a symphony.

I assert the same about YOU. There is majesty, worth, and a valuable contribution to the world inside all of us. I take that attitude with me wherever I go, treating everyone as my favorite brother or sister. I am rarely disappointed.

External Validation

Being given approval of any kind is delightful, so we work hard to get more of it. We can spend thousands of hours every year, pumping up bigger and bigger muscles. We can have our teeth straightened and whitened, along with hair-removal and spray-tanning, $3,000 leather outfits, and darkening that gray beard.

We may have experiences of all of those attributes and many more. They can bring on flattering and pleasurable reactions, and allow us to “win” on some level.

No matter what, sooner or later, the crash arrives. Age, sudden disasters, infirmity and gravity work against our following the same path forever. That’s when we will be needing the emotional growth that we may have allowed to dwindle while we were otherwise occupied.

To this day, I still go to the gym several times a week, but I ALSO work on my social skills, and provide value to my circle of true friends. My biggest struggle is with humility. I’m still trying to figure that one out, and I am open to suggestions.

Distancing Mechanisms

The other side of that same coin has to do with keeping others at arm’s length. Let’s start with WHY we would want to protect ourselves from others.

We are all born perfect, trusting and uninhibited. We learn to be otherwise, when we receive wounds along the way:

• “NO, STUPID! The OTHER way!” “People think that I’m stupid?”

• “Don’t talk to me, ugly! Take those big ears somewhere else!” “What’s wrong with my ears?”

• I’ll give you something to cry about!” “It’s bad for me to cry?”

These wounds cause us to make decisions that we hang on to, long after they have become obsolete. We may use ever-growing musculature to keep others at a distance. Or five layers of leather. Or whatever else helps us to keep possibly stressful interactions at arms’ length.

Those same predicaments can also create new, pleasurable possibilities, but we have to be OPEN to that idea in the first place.

Cynicism protects our tender hearts, but it can also prevent us from noticing when the Real Breakthrough Opportunity shows up.

One decision that I still struggle with can be expressed as “I’m not going to let you reject me. I reject you FIRST!” That’s on a very deep, early level, but I am not being driven by it so much any more, now that I consciously recognize it. Eventually. I no longer feel that my foot is nailed to the floor, while I go around and around the same problem, doomed to repeat it. Therapy helped.

I now laugh about my flaws as a personal foible. At that point, I clean up my mess: “Oh, there I go again. Sorry. I am glad that I caught myself. My anger does not belong to you. I’m not doing that any more. Let’s start over.”

Attitude Queens with a Capital “A”

So when you see that gorgeous man who seems to have everydamnthing going for him, moving through the crowd with a fixed look on his face that says “Don’t bother me,” spare him some loving sympathy. He is just as damaged as you are, despite external appearances. He’s just expressing it in his own way.

He’s lonely too. He is misunderstood. He struggles with finding unconditional love and deep friendship, just like anyone.

If I see somebody who is broadcasting on that channel, I get right past his defenses, 99% of the time. I do it by treating him as a good-hearted man, with value as a possible friend. Like any human being, he is starved for honest respect and affection.

Our Brains React Differently With Objects of Desire

Recent MRI-scan tests have shown that our mental processes change radically when we meet a politician, a celebrity, or a porn actor. We put them on a mental pedestal. Star-Fuckers, World’s Biggest Fans and Celebrity Stalkers can be a real chore for someone who just wants to walk down the street unmolested.

Think of the porn actor who is making some extra money as a go-go dancer on an elevated box at a big dance-party. He has drunks pawing at him like he was a piece of meat. They are making his privates very public. No matter how much he can rationalize this (”It’s all part part of the J-O-B”), he can also get pretty tired of it. Feigning enthusiasm can be a tedious chore.

That's why I always do one, specific behavior with every go-go dancer: I bring him some ca$h to stuff into his shorts, but I only do it in the area between his hip and his dick. I am not going for the gold. I smile in an honest, happy way, look him in the eye, and tap my cheek with two fingers. He smooches me on the cheek, and throws his arms around me with honest pleasure. I take that chance to express some honest compliments about his dancing, and then we disengage affectionately.

I gave him a Warm Fuzzy - A moment of sweet, honest human interaction. As a result, I am loved and respected by that man, forever afterward. I looked for the good in him.

The Calendar-Signing Party

I attended an event that turned out to be well-stocked with extremely handsome, muscular men. They were in town to promote a charity calendar, and I was politely interested in knowing more.

After about an hour, a man came up to me. He was the husband of the calendar’s creator, and he was curious to know more about me. He had watched me speak to every one of the calendar models, and had noticed that they all dropped their shields around me in seconds, and were at their ease. They didn't feel the need to be “on” with me. They all hugged me, as their own idea. I almost never ask for hugs. I prefer to earn them.

I get a lot of hugs.

The Bottom Line

The point that I am belaboring is that we can rise above our easy and obvious biases. We can choose to let go of physical external appearance as a point of reference. Those are just what we can see. If we open up our own hearts to the possibility that somebody is a good man, then he may pleasantly surprise us.

I am VERY rarely disappointed.

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