Sexed Up: "Man-whore" overboard
Some men are used to having sex served up to them on a plate – so when they finally encounter a woman resistant to their 'charms', the results aren’t always pleasant to behold.
Anne Sexton, 25 Jun 2009
I liked to reject Jason, but only, I suspect, because everyone else says yes. I see him from time to time, at parties, in the pub. We’re not exactly friends. Instead we have intersecting groups of acquaintances – none of whom understand Jason’s persistent pursuit of me or my constant rebuff of him. Jason is out of my league and we all know it.
Part of the problem is the first evening I met him. Like most Irish social occasions it took place in the pub. There he was, sitting a few tables over with Ellen, a girl I knew slightly. I popped over, engaged in the small talk necessary to maintain the acquaintanceship, delivered a bon mot or two and returned to my friends. Not ten minutes had passed when Ellen sidled up to me and whispered in hushed, almost reverential tones that Jason had taken a fancy to me.
I don’t know about you lot, but personally I think that dispatching an emissary to do your flirting is all very well at fifteen. It suggests a certain gawky shyness and a respectable regard for the feminine mystique. For a man in his thirties it smacks of sheer laziness. This is how I believe the A-list like to pick up civilians – being far too important and fabulous to bother with charming you themselves, they send a minion to do the dirty work, rather like hiring a personal shopper to keep you supplied in socks.
Now I don’t normally look askance when good-looking men display an interest in me – I’m willing to give them a chance, but this annoyed me. I am a woman, not a Domino’s Pizza, delivered within 30 minutes, hot and juicy. Tsk! I wasn’t having any of it and told Ellen that if Jason had any balls he might come and talk to me himself.
Nature, Fate or the Gods had been more than unusually generous to Jason. The scion of a wealthy family from Dublin’s more salubrious southern suburbs, he was blessed with the height and good looks of a Ralph Lauren model. He was exactly the kind of man that mothers love – being both well educated and well off, he had excellent son-in-law potential. Worse still, he knew it – and that got up my nose.
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