Heh, nice topic. That original archived thread is pure gold, and I'm only on page 5
Back at my teens and shortly after, I was a huge AFC, so of course I missed my share of chances.
Last year of HS, there was this chic I liked from another class (8.5 at least), and at the end of the year we had this big "farewell trip" where all the classes went somewhere under the supervision of 3 or 4 adults (you can imagine the kind of trip it was, right?). Anyway, we're at a pub, I'm playing pool, and I see her sitting by herself next to the pool table. I approach and ask her if they've been left all by herself. She turns, smiles, says yes with an inviting gesture for me to sit... And completely disarms me, so all I can do is fumble for a couple of minutes before exiting stage left. Heh.
In a similar vein, the chic who was sitting behind me for the whole year (7, short but curvy, and by curvy I mean actually curvy and not fat) was looking at me supremely pissed the couple of times I ran into her during that trip. Apparently she had been throwing hints at me for months and I never took her up on them. To this date, I still can't remember a single one of those though...
However, those are just the warmups. See, in the time between then and now I traded my AFCness for... Not-careness, for lack of a better word. I started losing interest in women; oh, I thought sex was good sure, but quite frankly I didn't think it was worth the trouble.
No, I don't care where you went to high school
Studies? Don't care.
Hobbies? Whatever.
Don't care.
Don't care, don't care, don't care.
It's a very dangerous dynamic to fall in, it's what I've been working to dig myself out of. I was genuinely, completely disinterested in females, well, in people in general. Going out with friends? I'd sit back and hardly join the conversations. Anyone asked my opinion? They'd get the keynotes in a monotone, bored voice. I'd pretty much have to force myself to go out, because at some level I knew some human interaction was good for me, but the care meter was abysmally low. This led to interesting situations, reading them now that I've written them make me look like a jerk, but it was because of genuine lack of interest.
Some dance club in Sao Paulo, Brazil. A chic (whose looks I don't even recall, can you say disinterest?) starts dancing behind me rubbing her back against mine, more and more obvious. I turn around just enough to give her a dirty look and move to the bar.
On a different occasion during the same vacation in Brazil, some woman tried to give me a kiss on the neck from behind, but fell short and landed on my shoulder (I'm almost 6'1" after all), and I get pissed because she put lipstick on my T-shirt.
Some other dance club, in Iceland (this was later on, I lived there for a couple of years). A HB (I'd give her a 9) comes and slaps my ass – literally, and quite hard – from behind when I'm standing there with my pint "talking" with a couple of friends. I turn around, look her up and down (and I don't mean check her out, it was a "who the hell are you" look), then turn and continue my conversation, didn't even say a word to her. Later that night she tried to approach me again, but when I saw her coming I rolled my eyes and went in another direction.
We're playing pool at a pub, and a HB... I'd give her an 8.5, comes and sits next to me, and says "hi!" very enthusiastically, smile and all. I mimic her with a smile and a "hi!", only to immediately lose the smile, stand up, and go to the pool table because it was my shot, didn't even look at her. Man, she was pissed. Too bad I didn't care.
A pretty good one, an acquaintance of mine (HB6) and a friend of hers (HB8) are talking with me sitting between them. The conversation turns on their sex life and how HB8 haven't had any good sex in six months, and how she really needs a very torrid night of hot sex, with HB6 agreeing she'd love one too, blah blah. I'm sitting in the middle, they're both somewhat leaning on me because they had to hear each other... And I didn't do anything because, again, I didn't give a crap.
But the best one, the best one by far, happened when I was changing jobs (and countries). HB8 from work who had given me an "I have a boyfriend" line when she thought I was interested in her at some point in the past (I wasn't, actually, but apparently my dancing the night before had been "aggressive", go figure; I didn't bother correcting her, I responded to her email with a "cool, good to know where we all stand" or somesuch), sends me an e-mail saying that since I'm leaving in a month, we should use the time well until then and do something together! Uh... o-kay, I guess. We somehow agree to dinner and DVD at my place, and halfway through the dinner I'm already bored and wondering why the **** did I agree to this. Film comes, I sit there watching, she sits close and of course I do nothing – I'm actually more interested in the film: "A Perfect Murder", with Gwyneth Paltrow, Michael Douglas and Viggo Mortensen, very good film IMO. Anyway, at some point she was resting with her head on my lap, and I did... Can you guess it? Nothing.
Somehow, she insists on a second date. Whatever. There's a new club in town she wants to check, so we go check it. Drinks, dance, I say I don't want to drink too much because I have to drive home, so she says I can crash at her place and take the car in the morning since she lives so close. We dance, at one point she's dancing and rubbing her butt on my **** while bending forward, yadda yadda. End of the night comes, and I see there's no sofa at her place. No no, "I have a big bed, we both fit in nicely". Cool. I get to my underwear, she takes off everything except her panties, and I proceed to get in bed and fall asleep. Smooth. Care level: very low.
The only reason we actually had sex was because she pretty much jumped at me in the morning. According to her, having sex with me was good, but felt more like pulling a tooth out.
