Anders

Men lose their locality when it comes to fucking. Unfortunately the truth is that the time and the place are important, as is the mix of chemicals that eddy around us when we interact with someone enticing. All things in our perception have a beginning, a middle, and unfortunately and end. I have spoken to a lot of dudes about their dating habits, and I know a lot now, I know a lot about the way most of us think, and I'm dismayed at the stupidity.

The whole enticement deal is a voluntary process, and we choose our mode based on a lot of factors. Unlike most people I'm not in a mad rush to the end, ever.

Mostly all men objectify women at a certain point. This follows the concept of the ends justifying the means, as if the end is what the goal is. In fact this is social dogmatizing at it's worse, to seek the end before the means. Popular fiction reinforces the end as the goal, people are trained by the same industry that pays for my beer, you're all being duped.

LA is a big city. Since I mostly live in the small north western quadrant and almost never leave that area, it's also a small town. It's sometimes hard to avoid people, and I have had emails where people labeled me as a womanizing cheating misogynist with no class. Ironically this proximity problem is a contributing factor in making me more transparent than I could be, I'm not as much of a shithead as you think. When I am dating someone with pure values, I'll be almost forced to date her exclusively, or I'll be forced to date her for a short time.

I think the median time to date someone and lie about a long term commitment in LA is about four weeks, unless you're a hermit. After four weeks you will be found out. That's why I don't construct elaborate lies, I don't hide the obvious. Half truths are the only reason I'm alive, but as far as my relationships go, I'm very uncomplicated.

Back in my Jeep immediately after picking her up, I am sitting next to Alana driving with the windows open and she is talking.

"Let's eat, are you hungry?"

Alana looked at me with her green eyes and pouted her lips in that involuntary fashion that made me question if it was an intentional assault or not. She is a model, she knows her looks, she knows what visually works for her, she's an expert at using her face to get what she wants. I of course am in rapture for a lot of other reasons.

"Yeah, let's go over to Robertson, you like burgers?"

She nods, the morning light reflects in her green and gives me another half breath moment. Is it possible that I'm just a big sucker for beauty? Is it possible that I'm drawn to and invariably controlled by the siren? This is a common thread in my life, and probably mostly all of what goes on inside my tiny brain.

I'll reiterate the concept I began with. It is not the fuck principle that totally drives me. I was kind of on auto-pilot and I apprecaite that each moment has the potential to have a natural high.

I enjoyed her accent. I enjoyed her skinny knees and size 2 ass sitting on my passenger seat. I enjoyed her descriptions of how weird it was the drive on the wrong side of the road. I enjoyed the way her tits pronounced her t-shirt. I enjoyed the way her lips sort of matched her hair and she had subtle freckles, and the last thing was that she was really smart and quit funny. It also wasn't the "last" thing either but rather the way 11:59pm and 12:00am butt up against each other.

I'm also skirting around the fact that I'd wanted to fuck her since San Francisco. I'm also on the periphery, I'm not desperate, I'm not needy, and I'm direct but not intimidating.

We're sitting in the outdoor cafe in our little intimacy bubble and my friend Anders just happens to be walking by. He's gruff, he's tough, he is well built and has those Nick Lachey tattoos that were all the fashion a few years ago. Actually his tattoos would probably get him killed if he strayed through Long Beach in the wrong place. Anders is just a dude who thinks he has a lot going for him.

He stood by our table for a few seconds before I noticed him. To be honest I have to admit that I did use a few seconds of ignore time just break him down a little, like I was in competition. In reality it was like the Netherlands stacking up against Nazi Germany. Alana raised her eyebrows at me, which I suppose was my signal to acknowledge his presence.

I look up at Anders and smiled, "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"oh" He looked down Alana then back at me. "Just getting starbucks and I saw you over here"

"I thought you had that thing going on in Redondo today?"

"Yeah, finished up at ten." Anders checks out Alana's t-shirt, she beams back a shielded glare. "You know Karl, the fucker never sleeps, and does everything in one take".

At that point I liked him, and we both laughed.

"hey this is Alana, she's just in from San Fran." Hand gestures follow and I shift my attention back to Alana. "This is Anders, I sometimes make him get me coffee".

Anders laughs and a little silent desperation creeps out as he shakes hands with Alana who doesn't move and continues the shielded glare. There was no softness in her eyes this time.

"hey" He finally deigns to look her in the eye and quickly averts his gaze back to me.

I break the awkward interaction. It's clear she doesn't like him. This could be interesting.

"We're just thinking of getting some beers, you want?"

This is where the brotherhood connects and Ander's pea brain has a direct connection to my evil intentions. He knew somehow that this invitation was a ruse, that he was in danger of being carved up by Alana for interrupting her carefully planned seduction. I was laughing inside all the way to the bank.

"Nah, I gotta jet, nice to meet you though."

With that he's gone and I'm back to visually tracing Alana's nipples through her t-shirt.