I was sleeping with this girl when I was in college.
It was a casual, dorm-life kind of thing and one weeknight I went upstairs to visit her.
When I got up there she already had a visitor. He was a skinny little dork and he sat on the edge of the bed going on and on about classes and studying and all sorts of stupid bullsh*t.
My girl and I got close and sat on the bed. She began rubbing my leg and I started rubbing her back. He still didn't get the message that we wanted to be alone.
Finally I got fed up and said, "Look, do you think you can leave? Jen and I Have to talk in private." And sure enough he said his goodbyes and was out. I slammed the door behind him and though she objected that I was kind of rude she put up no struggle as I took her in my arms and laid her down on the bed...
A few weeks later I was digging another girl.
She was tall, stylish, sexy and from Brooklyn. A real badass chick: All curves and attitude. We seemed to be getting along pretty well but things were going slow and I felt like I would die if I didn't get it soon. One night I got really drunk and I went upstairs to see her.
When I got there she was sitting in her room, smoking cigarettes and listening to Prince with another guy. I swayed on her bed drunkenly, without speaking.
Finally I figured I would try the same thing that worked for me a couple of weeks ago. He left and she asked me what I wanted to talk to her about. I paused. "Nothing", I said, "I just wanted him to leave."
Well, apparently the guy was one of her best friends and she wasn't too pleased with my actions. The last time we talked I tried to give her a Tom Robbins book as a peace offering but although she accepted my apology things would never be the same.
I learned a valuable lesson with those two experiences.
While many women like it when a man takes charge there is nothing worse than a man choosing for a woman or when a man backs a woman into corner. He'll always get burned if he lets the cat out of the bag too soon or is overly aggressive about his intentions.
My American upbringing taught me that the guy that is best at getting girls is the guy sitting at the bar drinking, seemingly without a concern in the world. A girl, especially in a revealing outfit, wonders what he's got that he doesn't need to look at her.
The best things that ever happened to me with women have happened when I stopped caring and just relaxed and simply let events take place. Those nights I just gave myself over to fate, laughing at my own futile turbo-libido and joked with friends and got drunk. Next thing you know there is a girl next to me and quite naturally, no forced lines or butterfly stomach walks over to the mini-skirt, you are talking and she is laughing and then...
Cut to Prague, 1998. I am in trouble. I am in deep boiling trouble. No experience I have had has prepared me for the daily torture I have faced walking the streets here. Spring has come and the clothing is reducing. It amazes me how the general population of woman here all wear skirts. High heels accompany these short skirts.
The symmetry of legs is something, some riddle I am grappling with; the way the high heel pushes up the calf and the way the muscles rise up beyond the knee to the expanding white thigh that smoothly arches and expands slightly upward and into fabric. Why is this so intoxicating and so plentiful in Prague?
...round a corner and there she is. The first thing I see is her breasts as she moves down the street towards me wearing no bra on with her halter top cut down just above her nipples.
Her large breasts look like two puppies fighting under a pillow case and they seem to undulate and sway as if under their own power, independent of the brain that is nestled behind the beautiful Eastern face of full red lips and expansive, high cheeks and jeweled eyes.
I am hypnotized and my walk turns to a stumble. Her body curves down into an impossibly small waistline. She walks with a sublime arrogance, like she just f*cked God, and the rhythm is something that is beyond grace and closer to the realm of divinity.
As she passes I see beads of perspiration in her copious cleavage and now under her power I turn and follow like a zombie. The whole time I follow her through the maze of bodies on the crowded street there is no thought function only her walk, only her. She is lost in the gauntlet around a Metro stop and I feel like I have just been punched in the stomach.
She is gone forever and I never even spoke to her. Women in this town are like snowflakes to me: No two look alike and they melt away before I can get a grasp on the beauty before me.
I have reached critical mass. I am tossing away my American laissez-faire philosophy and adopting that of the hunter. There is nothing else I can do. Just standing at a tram stop or at a bar trying to be cool has gotten me exactly nowhere.
The transition to this entirely new male I am striving to become is not going smoothly. When I spot one of these gorgeous woman I am torn by the lessons I have learned in American life versus the new situations I have found myself in.
Half of me wanting to pass by with a casual smile and aloof verve and the other half screaming in agony and demanding action. Every ounce of ingrained habit quivering like a tightrope underneath the weight of this cultural contradiction and my own fuming sex drive.
I have been trying meet them by asking "Prosím vás, kolik je hodin?" or directions to some place I already know and generally they realize what I am all about and ignore me or answer extremely fast in Czech and then get on the tram or walk away.
I am a musician and I have tried to hand them flyers to my shows as I pass them on the street but then they either blow me off or just grab the flyer and take me for one of those schmucks by Old Town Square who hand out useless flyers all day with pathetic, pleading looks on their faces.
I know that my problem is in my delivery. I know that when I walk up to one of these woman it is with my heart in my throat.
It is bulging (if only it was the only thing bulging...) and she can see it (both) and I am done for. I will keep trying my lines and trying to meet girls this way but I can see myself in a couple of months. I'll be out at a bar having a good time, drinking with friends, thinking finally and once and for all "F*ck girls, I don't need them".
I'll find myself making people laugh, there will be any energy around me that arises out of acceptance and all of sudden there will be a woman and later a small victory. Now if I could only get this horny, springtime, insanity faze over...
- Illustration by Jeffree Benet