Women are not unicorns
Шрифт:
Masturbation, of course, does not completely solve this issue. Here we need to work deeper, with soul. It is necessary for a person, a woman in our case, to see in herself the only one she loves, wants, admires, with whom she is not bored, to whom she is ready to give all of herself.
In my opinion, this is self-sufficiency.
Self-sufficiency in itself already attracts the attention of others. People do not like half-hearted and broken, wounded and wretched people. Adequate people run from energy vampires. Nobody likes to be forced to love, we like to consciously give our sympathy to an attractive person.
Therefore, my recommendation to you, dear women, is to love yourself entirely.
Transcript: start seeing in yourself the only person you love, with whom you want to have sex, with whom you admire, with whom you are not bored, to whom you are ready to give all of yourself.
Try it and write me your results.
And we move on to the next chapter.
“The coolest guy is already taken”
You know how it happens, the hero of your novel appears on the horizon, a tall, broad-shouldered brunette with a set of the most worthy qualities, and you’ve already fluffed your feathers, put on lipstick, and then suddenly another one appears next to him.
And not some bush muskrat, but the real Angelina Jolie.
It was a setup. The blue-eyed handsome guy found a match to match. Slender with glossy hair and skin without a single hair, the pastor's daughter instantly took in the man whom I had already planned for my husband. I was twelve and head over heels in unrequited love.
Who has this happened to?
Maybe you were that same Jolie and my situation is not familiar to you, but so far I have only met those who have encountered unrequited love at least once in their lives.
This is true. Ironically, that same pastor’s daughter, after breaking up with the hero of my novel, fell in love with a local rapper completely unrequitedly. My evil side rejoiced. The kind one understood and sincerely sympathized.
The beautiful brunette never became mine, even during the breaks between other women. I lost interest in him only ten years later, having already met many people. By the way, in my book “Sugar…” I wrote the main character from him, and embodied on paper what I couldn’t do in reality. These are miracles, only for this is it worth being a writer. You create new worlds instead of burying your fantasies deep inside your soul. My husband is not jealous, don't worry. There is love in everyone's life, a lot of love, there is no need to be jealous of the past.
And now in more detail what happened to me and how I dealt with it.
Now my stepdaughter is in love with a guy who also has an uneasy relationship with her. Their situation is similar to mine, with the exception that Katerina herself is the “pastor’s daughter”. Let me be clear, my husband is a very influential person, just like me. And we have proven ourselves well, so the employee of the organization where Katerina went to work respects and values us, and this greatly influences his attitude towards the girl.
Yes, the girl is not yet a swan, she is not at all prettier than me in those years when I suffered from unrequited love, but she has an advantage. The same "Jean Claude Van Damme". Do you know what I mean?
PR. If your qualities are lacking, then you take advantage of the protection of another person. If you are the protege of someone whom your lover values, then your status increases greatly, attention to your person grows, it doesn’t even matter that you are nothing special.
Not only was I nothing of myself, but I was also from a poor family of elderly parents, I was conceived at thirty-six by people already worn out by life, who, moreover, did not love each other. Why they needed this, only God knows, but now they are finally divorced and happy with this fact.
Olya, a tall, blue-eyed brunette with Barbie hair, always combed and thick (as if her mother did nothing but scratch her all her free time), was charming at fourteen years old, not only in appearance, but also in her relationship with an equally handsome and stately Pastor of Holy Gospel Lutheran Parish. Her father was a true leader not only for widows and orphans, he led everyone, smart and capable, men and women, teenagers and old. The hero of my novel spent all his time outside of school with this man. It is not surprising that Olya caught his eye more often than I did, and in the light of the great pastor she looked different than she might have if she were from my family.
Now I understand that she also had complexes, small breasts, high weight (due to her height), and a quiet voice. For some, this is a plus, but apparently that boy rapper did not appreciate Olya, which developed self-doubt in her.
I tried my best. The complexes consumed me so completely that it was impossible to even make a list, there were so many of them. I cried every night, and during the days I turned into a warrior, put on makeup again, dressed up and put on a smile to appear at least a little more attractive than a log.
It's true, don't laugh. Okay, I laugh too. It’s funny now to look at your past from the position of a mature, self-sufficient woman, knowing what could have been done then and changed everything, but then everything seemed so unsolvable, serious and tormenting.
If now a time machine transported me back to when I was twelve years old, I would go in for sports, get braces, it was still free. I would take vitamins, run in the morning, grow my hair, which I also comb. I would force my parents to sell their damp, cold apartment and move to a comfortable one. I would move to another school and take up dancing.
I would take first place in competitions and my PR would become more serious than the PR of a pastor, and even more so his daughter.
Remember, it is much more important to attract attention to yourself with your own merits, and not with someone else’s.
There was one incident that I will never forget as an eternal shame and stigma of stupidity on my self-confidence.
David, that was the name of my hero, went to the same only decent disco in the city that I did. Even then, he was already meeting Olya secretly from the parishioners, but he still could not refuse a fun time with friends at the club. I knew this and believed that either now or later it would be too late. I asked him to walk me home, saying that we are from the same church, as a friend you are obliged.