With a Stick

I feel weird.

I feel really weird.

I feel really weird right now.

And I don't think I should.

I just got back from a fundraiser for a new webseries that I (hopefully) will be a part of. A good old fashioned roof party, with cheap drink specials, a DJ, and of course, bitchy landlords that call security and totally try to kill your party buzz. I wasn't drinking, but I was feeling pretty good.

And I think that's where the trouble started.

Before I went to the party, I tried on a dress that has not fit me in 3 years. Many girls who have weight loss goals will tell you: When you try on an item that you have kept around hoping it will fit again one day, and then one day it fastens just like it used to... One of the best feelings in the world. It makes you feel powerful that you have reached a goal. It makes you feel sexy that you look better. It's an immense feeling of satisfaction, and more importantly, hope.

And once the clothes look good, you have to make sure everything else is up to par. So, I let my hair go wild, carefully applied my makeup, unbuttoned one button more than absolutely necessary, and slipped on vintage shoes that never fail to get comments. (They are two different colors. It makes sense when you see them. Really.)

Needless to say, I was feeling very good by the time I walked out the door.

When I got to the party, I didn't think I would be able to convince boy to come all the way out to the alien Brooklyn, but boy did I try. And it actually worked!

But before he arrived, there had been a group of guys staring at me. Not talking. Not even trying to be subtle. Just staring. It made me very uncomfortable, but I was with friends, so I didn't let it bother me.

Fast forward a bit, he came, spent some time, then left so as not to be brain-dead for the dreaded brunch shift... and that's when the trouble started.

I'm not saying this to toot my own horn. I'm certainly not bragging, as this is nothing to be proud of. But for the rest of the night, one by one, I was very clearly hit on by about 5 different guys.

In a way, it was fascinating. Everyone had a different technique, from the blatant "Are you interested?" to the oh-so-subtle "Can I have a glass of water?" and everything in between. At one point in the night, I got a little fed up and decided to fuck with this one guy and told him that I used to be an actress, but it wasn't going so well so I became high class "escort".

Oh yeah. Escort. A high-class (read:expensive) lady of the eve, if you will.

He totally bought it too, but I was silly to think that might dissuade him. He asked for my number so he could 'make an appointment' the next time he was in NY. Thinking quickly, I told him he needed to give me a number where I could reach him. Tricky, huh? Hey, a girl needs to cover her ass in this business...

Anyway, back to reality.

I know I'm a friendly person. And I know this can be translated to flirting under certain social circumstances, but jeez, give a girl a break. I have to imagine that it wasn't all out of my control, but I honestly don't know what was so different about my vibe last night that everyone took it as an open season call.

Or do I?

I know it's a huge cliche that how other people will see you depends on how you see yourself, but I've never seen such a marked difference. Since I lost weight, I've definitely been feeling better about my body and want to show it off more (always in a classy way of course). And last night I was feeling exceptionally hot and, more importantly, confident as hell. Whether I wanted it to or not, it shined out of me.

And damn if it isn't the one non verbal thing men actually pick up on.

Scoff though you may, I'm not used to being hit on that much. Every girl has a certain screen or some other way they deal with the occasional overly flirtacious guy, but I felt like I had to be on guard and defend myself all night with witty repartee and not-so-gentle ribbing.

Or maybe just beat them off with a stick.