Lessons from Men: Sincerity is Sexy

Lessons from hockey players: the strategy and use of compliments in seduction.

Since I was a teenager I’ve gotten into the habit of not giving much weight to compliments in my world. I don’t absorb them easily, don’t take them seriously and I try to avoid a lot of situations that would result in receiving them. As I age, now in my 40’s, I give them even less attention than I did when I was younger. I have learned to see them as useless noise in otherwise great situations of connection and conversation.

People who know me in real life know that I don’t accept compliments well. As much as I try to do the polite thing and say “thank you”, I either avert my eyes or will give a more hidden side eye response. I don’t do things in life hoping that someone will compliment me for it, in fact, I’m pretty much hoping no one will notice and just let me go on my merry way to the next set of challenges.

Whether it’s my intellect, my beauty or my impact, I’m very reluctant to accept positive feedback about myself. But more than anything I’m really reluctant and suspicious when I get compliments from men. And here’s why:

I have an advanced degree in navigating Toxic Masculinity.

I’ve mentioned it a few times that I used to work with hockey players growing up in the 90’s. For a while I was the only female on staff under the age of 50 there and when I wasn’t I the one most frequently scheduled to work public sessions and figure skating lessons with occasional hockey games thrown in.

Most of the time was just empty space – time for me to get my homework done, time for us to shoot the shit while we waited for public session to start or the last of the hockey parents to leave.   I was accepted as “one of the guys” and they talked about everything in front of me.  To half of them I was jail bait and to the other half, i was a little sister/daughter worthy of some honest advice about men.  They were willing to share their knowledge with me, some of it really good, but most of it kind of destructive.  I started to learn how to crack the code of interpreting how men act and respond.  Ultimately I would use this knowledge to shape myself into a seductress (aka Magic Pussy) putting these lessons to good use throughout college and my early years of polyamory.

I felt like a researcher, a spy, given access to a deeper, darker thread in every man’s soul – where the seeds of a societal narrative based on dysfunctional assumptions about women meet with deep-seated currents of shame for male vulnerability and openness to swell into a cascade of toxic masculinity. And in this secret world the advice fell forth like this:

  • Pussy tastes like rotting fish. You’ll have to hold your breath but sometimes going down on her is the only way to get her wet enough to fuck.
  • If she hasn’t put out after 3 dates, drop her.
  • If she watches porn with you, she’s a keeper.
  • Wait at least 3 days before asking for another date. You don’t to seem desperate and think she has all the power.
  • Always plan something for Valentine’s Day or you won’t get laid for at least a full month after.
  • Any woman who doesn’t do anal isn’t worth your time. Anal is the only way to go.
  • Keep your side piece happy enough to stay quiet. Don’t need the old lady finding out that you actually can get it up – just not with her.

So, you get the general direction I’m headed with this. It painted a skewed picture for me – where women were demanding and difficult, requiring men to put forth special effort to even have sex much less mutually enjoy it.  In my warped teenage smart-girl brain, I would hack the code of male desire by being the sexual wonder woman of their dreams. I would be both low maintenance AND hyper sexual. I would be both respectable AND slutty. I would be the best of all worlds AND not expect commitment.

Other men ruined it for you

Specifically though, I remember gathering information on their strategies behind compliments. Compliments were framed as a very deliberate attempt to get what you want from stingy, reluctant women. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about:

  • Tell a smart girl she’s pretty and she’ll open her legs for you.
  • Tell a pretty girl seems smart and she’ll believe everything you say.
  • Beautiful – when you want her to fall for you.
  • Gorgeous – to keep her attention or get out of trouble.
  • Cute – girl next door that you want to fuck but might have to play the friend zone for a while
  • Hot – to her act sluttier.
  • Sexy – the more breathless you say it, the more she’ll want to please you.
  • Nice/sweet – Clingy woman who you’re trying to gently let down.
  • Compliment your bitch regularly to keep her from straying.
  • Tell the fatties how hot they are – it’s the easiest fuck you’ll ever get.

All of these strategies overlapped to a certain extent and varied from person to person. But the truth of it struck me as I used the information to reflect on my own reactions and outcomes when I’ve received these compliments. The shame I felt for having fallen for even one of those false compliments – it morphed into a equally deliberate response system to them in the future. I used this code to uncover the intentions that lay hidden within the person who gave them and respond to those rather than get emotionally drawn into a compliment. I programmed myself to treat compliments as: I’m rubber, you’re glue – your words bounce off of me and stick to you.

I became quite skilled at anticipating each compliment and its counterpart seduction. I could easily weave through the different road signs and guideposts, avoiding the trap of falling for just any guy who called me beautiful. Pfft…whatever. Oh you think I’m hot? Okay – let’s up the ante until you beg me stop. It went beyond just testing the motives at play, it was testing the sincerity of their actual interest in me. I observed and learned the  rules of the game better than most.

I wasn’t going to fall for it anymore.  I could see through compliments, predict the real desires and adjust accordingly. For example, I could tell that the boy I lost my virginity to was only interested in checking me off his list – so when I decided to give in and give him my virginity, I did it in such a way that I turned the tables on him and exposed deeper aspects of desire than what he anticipated. I didn’t react to his magic dick, to his compliments or seductions.  It unnerved him to the point of creepy distraction – for once, his entitlement didn’t get him what he wanted, which was the only way to truly balance the scales between us.

All players will eventually get played.

Including me.


Sincerity is sexy

It’s hard to avoid compliments, particularly when I write a blog, post photos and do a lot to bring attention to causes I care about. And in my most intense moments of insecurity about my own path, I admit to still be occasionally wooed by them, particularly when they arrive from unpredictable sources.

About a year ago I was finally starting to come back to my flirtatious self – I had lost some weight both figuratively and literally and was starting to let my sexy side out of play more often. I had met someone on Twitter who was at least initially successful in wooing me with compliments alone – or rather, successful at getting me so locked up in my head that I wasn’t as agile with my normal deflections and avoidance mechanisms.

This man had tremendous exposure and access to beautiful women – actresses, porn stars, perky cam girls. His attention to me made so little sense. He assaulted me daily, sometimes hourly with comments about how sexy I was, how hot I made him. He told me all the crazy, fucked-up fantasy fulfillment things he would do with me, all while being curiously cautious about his identity (which I easily found because you can’t play a smart girl for long). I could sense insincerity, but it didn’t correspond to any motive I’ve found before. My internal database was out of date. So, I started to quickly get engrossed and become prey to his whims while I was trying to figure things out.

I got pulled in because I just couldn’t make sense of why this guy would want me. He didn’t fit the programming that I carried after years of experience. Why wasn’t I invisible to him like I should be?  Why was I registering on his radar at all? I wasn’t going to be the treasured conquest that would ordinarily motivate a guy like this.  As I got more locked up in my head I decided to just stop responding to him at all. I couldn’t reconcile his interest in me with the compliments he was giving me. Ultimately, I discounted it all to needing to feel wanted and allowing myself to get wrapped up in the possibility of being wanted by someone who has access to so many other attractive choices.

This was a critical lesson in my growth over the past year in accepting my deservingness.  Why was I so quick to dismiss or question the possibility that a man surrounded by beauty all day might find me attractive as well? With the dreams I want to pursue in my life, how will it serve me to find myself undeserving of sincere attraction?  And even if he was playing me, trying to manipulate me, I had to admit it felt good to feel important enough to be wanted. And if I cannot accept that I am capable of that level of sex appeal, if I cannot accept that am deserving to have powerful and significant people attracted to me – then am I really committed to this path of growth at all?

In retrospect, all the weirdness and disconnect with this guy made more sense if I saw it as a safe opportunity to challenge my own assumptions about myself. So I made new observations.  I started to notice that the compliments I responded to the most were the ones that gave me a glimpse of emotion, a twinge of admiration, a jolt of pride. The ones that allowed me to see myself through someone else’s eyes and heart for even a moment. The compliments aimed at sincere connection instead of fabricated desire. Words like “stunning” and “radiant” capture what I most want to project into the world; and the voices of that desire, the tenor and the tremble, tell me far more than words ever could.

The highest compliment I can give someone is when I call them “sincere”. Because, oh fuck, do I find sincerity to be so dangerously attractive. I don’t care how beautiful someone is, if they aren’t genuine or sincere, I’m just not interested.  I don’t care how funny or smart someone is, if they don’t have a sincere heart, I am looking for an escape hatch. But the people who show me who they are, ooze sincerity in their movements and message – I would bare my body and soul and feast on every word they share.

If I am to become the woman I most want to be, it has to start with accepting that I deserve to feel the full truth spoken with sincerity and heart; and to filter out the noise of anything that is not.


Posted on February 5, 2018, in Magic Pussy, Queen Archetype, Sex, Social Media and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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