Submission is a result of the ambivalence between fear and attraction.
She is sitting there next to me in the bar. She is a beauty queen, this one. We are locked in conversation. I have been teasing her and connecting with her on many different levels for the last 45 minutes. Things are going “well” by any standard. I know, however, there are more words that need to come out of my mouth.
And I am gripped by fear.
I’d approached her on the subway. A casual opener asking her if this train goes to 14th street. When she told me it does, I hired her as my personal assistant. I told her I would take her everywhere with me.
She laughed. We moved into conversation from there. And I kept sprinkling in banter here and there. As we talked more, it turns out we both live in the same neighborhood. I told her I’d been living there for three years.
“And you didn’t know that this train stops at 14th street?”
“I just wanted to come flirt with you,” I responded, without a hint of apology in my voice.
She was fun and genuine. As she walked off the train she glanced backward to see if I was walking with her. I was.
I invited her out for a drink. I told her my friend Maurice was working at The Abbey, this bar near her place. She says one drink would be great, but that she had to meet her roommates later.
“Do you always talk to random girls on the train?” she asked as we exited the subway.
“Everyone in New York is too compartmentalized,” I responded. “They’re either wearing headphones, or talking on their cellphone. Nobody really talks to each other any more.”
In the bar we connect on many different levels. Very deep rapport. We talk about our childhood. She says at one point “I can’t believe I am telling you this.”
She likes me. The signs are there. But there is still hesitation on her part. I can read it in her body language. We are connecting deeply, and in between connecting deeply I am keeping it fun, throwing out cocky funny gems here and there. I’ve already called her a perv twice.
But I know that I need to say something else. And I know what I need to say. I am just afraid to say it.
I am afraid to ruin this interaction with her. Part of me wants to set up a date and run off. This girl is gorgeous, interesting, and we are connecting on an amazing level. I’m doing so well. I don’t want to fuck it up. But this is my fear speaking. I know I need to take this further.
I am sitting there gripped by fear. It is that fear where you are locked inside yourself. I have done this enough times that I’m able to take interaction this far. But I am still in a state of submission.
Submission is the ambivalent state between fear and attraction.
I am attracted to her. So I don’t want to run off. But I am also afraid of saying something to ruin the interaction. So I am in a state of submission.
I know there is no point continuing the relationship with her like this. I don’t want to be in submission and I know she doesn’t want to be with someone who is. I know I need to purposefully raise the tension to show her that I am not afraid of losing her.
So I throw it out there. I have the skill. I know what to say. It is just difficult for me to say it.
“I would be so into you if you were my type.” It’s like stepping off of a bridge.
She says the same exact thing back to me. I hardly even respond to it and just move on.
And I begin to physically escalate.
I feel a new found freedom to pull her back in now that I’d pushed her away. I start touching her hair. Playing with her hands. Scraping my hands up her jeans as I banter with her. And she’s into it.
She’s not leaving but I have to go. As we part ways I say “give me a hug.” I pull her in and… *smack* on the ass. “Hey!” she laughs as we walk off.