Trippy Vibe.

Life is always strange, isn’t it. Mine used to be dead boring, and dry and worst of all, without signposts. I haven’t exactly figured out where I’m going, but sometimes I feel as if I’m climbing the steps at Hogwarts Castle, the ones that constantly change paths, but yet at every junction, (which ever junction I’m presented with, it doesn’t matter) I know exactly where to turn.

Some girls out there think I’ve really got it figured out, and I appreciate your faith in my ability to provide good advice for your life. But you know what? I don’t really have any ‘good advice’. I’ll never be able to write (or bother to write) some bullshit email that sounded like I ripped it out from one of the books from the Chicken Soup series. There’s really only one answer to all your problems and it’s this: Live your life the way you want to.

That really solves everything. And the biggest problem that prevents a whole lot of people from doing that, and being happy people, is their lack of self-confidence. You wish, but you don’t believe you can, and therefore you never will, period.

After a bit of thought, I have realized what men want in women and what women want (and I’ve never watched the movie, so whatever I say here has got nothing to do with it.) The boys are crazy over girls that can hold their own, and all the girls want is their independence. Remember the story of St Gawain and Dame Ragnell. It’s ironic, because all the women I know that don’t need men have all the boys they could ever want, and they are all crazy over them. I’m talking about completely crazy, the sort of I’ll wait on you, If I could marry you I would kinda crazy. And some of these guys are not the kind of guys that would normally do something like that. And then there are the women that really seem to need it, and they never have it.

Ironic isn’t it.

Women that are already happy with themselves get happier, and women that aren’t, stay whatever way they are, until they realize they need to make themselves happy. They need to be happy with themselves, first and foremost. That is all.

***

I have no problem with removing my clothes. Me and every other person living in a tropical country like Singapore. But last night was really kinda weird. Nude modeling is one of those strange businesses where all of the girls try to keep some semblance of professional integrity by swearing to God they’d never sleep with their photographers. Inevitably, most of them do. And so did I, after nearly 2 years of keeping up with that ‘moral code’. But like they say, the lack of sex is most often due to the lack of opportunity. I had no lack of opportunity, I was simply never attracted to any of the previous photographers.

I was telling Richard yesterday (something like the Cock Monsieur is just too stupid to use on a frequent basis; let’s not even talk about using it in more… maudlin situations. Something like, ‘The Cock Monsieur tells me that I have the most incredible pussy’ may sound good in a Disc World novel, but it is certainly not the direction I am aiming for.) I told him that nude photography was the best hobby to take up if you wanted to get laid. I may be wrong, but I think there exist 2 types of women in the industry. Girls who are really confident, who know they have nothing to be ashamed off, and do it for the sake of creating good pictures (while making good money and alleviating boredom on days when they don’t have enough brain power to do more satisfying things –like writing or reading, whatever) or girls that are frustrated.

Doesn’t have to be sexually- just frustration in general. Stripping and modeling, for me, has some very powerful emotions attached to it, and just like blogging, it’s a hobby art that helps you release a lot of unwanted emotions by allowing you to vent it out creatively. It’s the raw theatrics of it I enjoy the most. It’s just like how some people like to sing Karaoke, although they really can’t sing. I’m not the world’s most fantabulistic actress (few years in theatre and the sporadic foray into indy films aside) but in photographs, you don’t really have to be a great actress, you just have to like being theatrical.

Whatever it is, confident girls lay you because and if they want to. They don’t need to rely on any silly code of moral behaviour to tell them what will make them feel good and what won’t (what’s right and what’s wrong, what’s a wise choice, and what isn’t) they know it, and a lot of people are depriving themselves of a great deal of good sex, just because they believe their pleasure needs to be approved first. Frustrated girls also lay you, because they’re frustrated. Either way, your chances of getting laid if you take up nude photography increases. So it’s generally a good thing. Everyone’s happy at the end of the day. And so far, in all honesty, I’ve not met a single photographer that has treated any girl badly. It’s got something to do with the fact that all artists, wannabe or otherwise) are possibly very sensitive at heart.

Before the whole thing started, I asked him if he’d like me to start with my clothes on. It was really odd, because for some reason, I didn’t feel as comfortable as I normally would taking my clothes off. In ordinary circumstances, it would just be about getting the job done. Taking off my clothes is taking off my clothes. Last night, it was different. I took them off like I normally do before a photo shoot, but there were all these vibes in the room that made things quite unlike what I expected. When I removed my panties, I felt like I was going to trip.

Then he said something weird to me. Technically, it shouldn’t have been. Loads of photographers have said it to many other girls. Kevin would probably go something like, ‘Wah lau, I see so many already la. See until nothing le, unless they do something la.’ (Something as in spreading and going, ‘come and get my fresh cunt’).

“I have seen naked women before.’ He told me.

Of course he’s seen naked women before, who hasn’t. But it’s just different seeing someone you want, naked. It’s the difference between asking your parents to buy you something you want and opening a surprise gift from someone you like. And it was odd he said it, because obviously he felt something too, then. There was absolutely no need to have said it, I wasn’t shy about removing my clothes. I think more then anything, I was just uncertain about what sort of reaction it would illicit.

I’ve always been attracted to him in a certain sort of way, I really like the dead-pan humour and self-admitted pervert visage, but there was something in the way he did things around me occasionally (and it was mostly very occasionally, because up till last night, we’d never been together alone, much less, in complete privacy) that completely felt different from how he normally seemed to be. (And of course it’s clear he wasn’t all about being a pervert and dry jokes about humanoid back doors. Because people that are all that and only that come across immediately as jerks. He could possibly be a jerk to some other people –the fact that he tries to avoid people that he doesn’t already know he’ll like proves that he could be, only it’s the sensible thing not to waste time on such-) There were occasions when he’d throw me a look, or do something like showing me stuff on the LCD screen of his camera. There was once when I sat beside him on the couch and I got that same weird vibe. The sort of vibe you get when you feel that someone’s attracted to you, only you don’t know for sure.

You know, all that bullshit about taking your clothes off in front of just about anyone cheapening the process for yourself and your future partner is just that. Bullshit. Eating Cadbury chocolate all your life doesn’t cheapen the sacredness of biting into a box of fresh Royce bon-bons. Cadbury is good, but Royce is ultra, ultra good. Better then only ever having eaten the former all your life!

The same goes for sex, so there.

It’s amazing what sleeping with someone does to you, but I find that I feel this all the damn time after I sleep with someone. (Remember that I only sleep with people I can stand) It’s funny, but I feel like I want to live with them right after. And the funny thing is, I probably would if I could, and I probably would be happy, because I’m just not fussy. As long as the person doesn’t do anything irritating like snore off tempo or breathe in my face when we’re cuddling. The only time that happened I had to hit him on the head with a bedroom slipper several times throughout the night. (I remember that one. It was unmemorable up to the point I remembered it as the sole most unmemorable encounter. I wouldn’t even use ‘sexual’ encounter).

Richard is really, incredibly… Just Great. I spent most of last night on my back, and I am sure in two days time, I’ll have problems pissing. But it wasn’t just that. He was so sweet, and I can scarcely believe he’d wanted me all this while. He was nervous at first. You know how it is, when you’ve wanted to sleep with someone for awhile now, and then you can… and then you can’t. Women don’t have to worry about it, nothing Astroglide can’t help. I suppose men have Viagra, but it’s not the same, and never equally as consistent as lube would be, for women.
For the most part, I was in too much of a hyper-eroticized state to care. The couple of hours previously spent whoring from his camera –and of course flirting with the person behind it, because that’s all part of the act, but most times, I’m not aware of it. But when you are, it can really turn you on-.

There were a couple of thoughts that wafted through my mind after he’d dropped me off at the Café so I could get my caffeine fix and a morning read. I felt myself wondering if I should have held back, because I find myself really liking him now, and realizing I enjoyed the tension that existed when he was still wondering if I’d reciprocate the way he wanted me. But then you know what, what’s done is done, and how long could it have lasted anyway. Maybe if I didn’t sleep with him last night, then I wouldn’t be feeling the way I do now, and nothing would have ever come out of it. And maybe nothing will anyway, but then at least I had some of the best fucking sex I’d ever had and it was just so lovely talking and cuddling and being told over and over again that you’re absolutely gorgeous. Because I can still hardly believe it when people say that I am (you know what they say, women will never be fully satisfied with themselves. And while I am, at the moment anyway, this world has fed me with too much shit like how much I need to look like Liv Tyler before I can be considered beautiful).

But how silly of me, of course beautiful is natural. Means natural.

xoxox