Some quick thoughts on me:
1) I want. I like. I picked the name “N. Likes” sort of happenstance-ly (see a post to come on just how I did). But it’s true. I like. A lot. And I want. A lot.
2) I’ve recently been learning something most men worth their salt learn in their teens. Desperation isn’t sexy. Unavailability, indifference, is. I’ve watched V be pursued by two guys recently, and each has pursued her in a way entirely unfamiliar to me. By, essentially, letting her twist in the wind, wondering if they’re interested in her, wondering what they want of her, with her. (It’s nice, for me, that she seems not to want much of/with them, but that’s another story.) It’s simply unimaginable to me, the seemingly chill way in which they’re interacting (or not interacting) with her. Me, I’d be all over her. I wouldn’t be able to wait a day, wouldn’t allow a voicemail to go unanswered, a text to go un-responded to.
3) And, from the opposite side: I want to be wanted, to be desired. But, as I’ve written, not too much. On another day, I’ll examine the whys and wherefores of this a bit. But for now, suffice it to say, I think that part of what is most exciting for me about being desired is not the fact of being desired, but the moment at which I learn that I’m desired. So if that moment can be repeated over and over, so much the better. The thin line here is that in order for that to work, there needs at least to be the constant possibility that I’m not desired. But never the reality of my not being desired. That’s a pretty tough baby to split.