Talked with my 18 year old former student friend again tonight. We talked extensively about sexual and seductive power. She reminded me that she always dressed very conservatively at school, downplayed her make up, the high heels, the whole bit. I have seen her outside of school so many times, dazzling and like a distillation of sexual energies, that I forgot how demure she was in class itself. We were talking about her classmates.
What kicked the conversation off was something she said. "You know why I trust you? You always make eye contact." "Yeah, well," I smiled sheepishly, "As a teacher, I have had to train myself to always make eye contact, to always keep my line of sight above the neck. If you know what I mean."
She expressed exasperation with her classmates and how provocatively they dressed for school. In particular, how much cleavage was revealed in many outfits.
"Yes, well, my entire way of relating with female students is they don't have bodies at all. They're just minds. That's the only part of the student I'm permitted to have intercourse with, if you get my meaning. Besides, I think a lot of young women your age really have *no idea* how much sexual power they have. You seem fairly hip to it, but many seem to be utterly clueless."
My friend thought for a while, then told me basically the story of how she began to recognize this sexual power, from roughly age 13 to now, 5 years later. I was riveted with attention, as I've never heard it told so eloquently and from a young woman's point of view. For one thing, at a very young age, she learned she could basically get any man, of any age as long as he was pubescent or post-pubescent, to do whatever she wanted. She has a teacher fantasy, as well as an older married man fantasy, because she has never been able to get a man from either of these groups to bend to her sexuality. Almost all other men and young men and boys have been easily led, as if they had rings in their noses. (I told her if she persisted and if she really wanted a huge fucking mess in her life, she would easily get a college professor and/or a married man, it's only a matter of time).
She admits to just now waking up to the potential harm her sexual power could cause others as well as herself. We talked at great length about living through manipulation, using people for expedient purposes, inviting different forms of abusive or harmful energies into one's life, building entire relationships on false structures and faked feelings. She knows her tits don't make her empowered. She also knows that she has been able to use sexual enchantment to lay some heavy voodoo down in the world around her.
We talked about how women gain respect. How unfair it is that women who are proud of their sexual energy and unashamed of their beauty and their sexuality are judged so harshly, not only by men but also perhaps especially harshly by other young women and women. We talked about the difference between being wanted sexually and being admired for who you are, between asking the universe for respect as a human being and using bad faith wiles to charm people. How charm eventually wears off and is often replaced by mutual loathing.
I outlined for her all the different ways I woke up to my seductive, sexual powers and how I used them all. How I had a carefully cultivated "woo kit" and several chameleon colors I could wear depending on the pants I wanted to get into. Is she a nurturing, rescuing sort? I'll play the wounded bird. The tortured artist. Is she a wounded bird herself? I'll be the rescuer, the knight, the hero. Is she impressed by brains? I'll wave my large brain in her face. Does she want a sensitive, emotional guy? Here come the tears. I asked her, does it really matter what a guy looks like to her? No, she said, not really, I mean in some extreme ways, but generally no. Exactly! This was a breakthrough realization for me, I told her. I realized at about age 19 that most of the women I was interested in didn't care that I wasn't movie star material nor ripped and muscular or even athletic. Most of the women I wanted to bed were going to go with what kind of person they thought I was. Being clever, I could easily change the kind of person I was to get what I thought I wanted.
There was a long silence. Turned out she was mentally paging back through a few of her boyfriends, remembering how they wooed her, how they slowly morphed over time into people different from their initial presentation, how she had been played, either consciously or unconsciously.
It was 11:11. I said, "Hey, it's 11:11. Make a wish." We sat silently with our eyes closed and wished our silent wishes. After I made my wish, I had a vision of her moving through the times of her life from now to about age 80, having gone through whatever life waits for her between now and then. I had a slight shiver of awe at just how amazing it is that we come into and out of each others' lives like this, that we are not just listeners to the story but parts of the story.
I have no idea what she wished for, as we both agreed, wishes spoken don't come true.