On Being an Oblivious, Chronically Shy Exhibitionist

There's so much I want to write about now. I guess that is a good sign that this blog will stay alive for a while yet (touch wood).

I am hot. Intellectually I know this, but really feeling it, on the other hand, is something completely different, and for the majority of the time it's beyond me. Because of this I often don't even notice when people are checking me out, although if I'm feeling a bit better and I actually dress to my mood I can watch jaws drop and eyes follow all day long. This is a rarity though, and more often I'm shrouded in jeans and a bulky jersey.

Coupled with this feeling is the fact that my social education sucks. Being the picked on outsider all through high school meant that during the time I was meant to be learning how to flirt and date and generally interact sociably, I was hiding in the most out-of-the-way, least populated corner I could find. My first boyfriend was over the internet and I never actually met him face to face.

So when someone is actually flirting with me often I am completely oblivious, or I don't notice until its far too late.

Case in point: Earlier this week while in a dvd store, I was oogling the stand of sci-fi series on special, and a guy next to me just started chatting with me. 'Oh, a strange guy is talking to me.' I was looking over the prices of stargate seasons, made some pleasant replies, then hurried off to catch my bus. Out on the street there was the niggling curiosity as to why he had even started talking to me in the first place. 'I'm in my ugly-jersey, he surely was just making idle conversation.' Only once I was actually on the bus did it actually strike: 'holy crap he was hitting on me!' And I didn't even get a good look at him! All I noticed was tall, suit and young. Now I really wish I had just looked up to see his face, if only for the memory.

*head-desk*

There is the other side of this as well. I might blush insanely when guys pay attention to me, but it's a real slap in the face when the reaction to my appearance of someone I'm chatting to, who is meant to be interested, amounts to 'eh'. Its happened more than once, and its been gut-wrenching every time. Its enough to send me into a hiding-phase for weeks.

And there's yet another side. Once all those layers of bad self-image, denial, shyness, are gone, striped away by good friends and good times, in a place I feel safe and secure, I become such a show off. With the right crowd it would actually take very little for me to strip down right to the buff and prance around naked for everyone's enjoyment, as seen at the previous play party, and several before that. I love seeing people's eyes follow me as I stroll by completely nude, or maybe adorned with a bit of rope or cuffs or chains. There is something so erotic about being stark naked in a room full of people fully clothed, even better if those people are kinky and dominant. I love my body, and I delight in showing it off, in baring myself to others, and I don't get to do it nearly enough. Despite the playparties, the very, very rare cam shows for very close net friends, and despite the nude prints a professional photographer is selling, I still don't think I get to show off enough. Its when I feel the most secure in my own skin.