Writing Assignment

My Ego vs Myself

It was three in the morning, and my blood pressure was higher than my normal. Excitement kicked in.

I really shouldn't feel this way. It's David. He's still unattractive. He's still bald. He's added more wrinkles. He lied about his age in 2011, he's not ten years older as he has claimed. He is, in fact, sixteen years my senior. Now that explains why the photos sent me an hour before...' resembles Princess Anne. Forgiveness, that's maturity. I should forgive him subtracting six from his age. Such a relief that men do it too.

I rolled my eyes to myself. Maturity, I thought. I should be mature about this. I can not just simply anymore leave a man just because of a simple imperfection. Gone are the days, Olivia. I mean, look at Charlotte's beef drippings of a boyfriend, who is even an inch shorter than me.

'Bloody hell,' I said to myself. Just as when I gave up alcohol, I'd needed a drink to even find a male version of Princess Anne, who instead of riding horses would rather ride me.

'Maturity. Maturity. Maturity. Repentace. Growth.' I reminded myself.

I was about to type about myself on my HTC, but my fingers were hesitant.

'Is David really the kind of man I'd enjoy sex with? Why can't I get a handsome man for once in my life?' I monologued to myself as I looked through my window with the view of an Asian metropolitan skyline.

'What if David is the one? What if the right man for me is not exactly: hot, handsome, Oxford rower kind of man or in summary Charles Rockefeller type. Or one of those eligible von Bismarcks.' I sighed relentlessly.

The moment I tell more about myself to David Levit, that's it - it is giving awat my power to a man. Vulnerability at best. I experienced vulnerability with bloody Darrell. It didn't turn out badly. At twenty-eight, I've learnt how to replenish my strength and power. Living my life, that is. A good quality life, no less.

'Olivia from London. I moved away from the UK after graduation. At first I was going to find myself, get to know me more. And here I am in a career in media and publishing. An unexpected turn out of events, but I do want to go home. Pursue Dramatic Writing or Master of Fine Arts in the US.' I replied.

'Interesting, tell me more. And have you finally found yourself?' David replied almost in an instant.

'Yeah. I am doing what I love (or what I thought I love haha... gee thanks Charlotte for delaying my publication and almost plagiarising my work until she finally saw my LinkedIn 'LLB.'). Law was my only choice of a career path at home. I love dramatic writing. Though not exactly my daytime job (making Charlotte look good and pretending to enjoy our beers and coffee for some literary brainstorm is my job), but it is my career. Career requires years of building and a lot of sacrifice. A job is a job, you get paid... and do what's asked of you.'

Pulling the band aid, suddenly didn't feel that bad.

'What is it that you're looking for? And cock preference.'

That's it, I brewed myself an espresso. In the absence of alcohol, there's always Arabica.

'He's so hard to crack, but nothing I couldn't handle.' I whispered to myself.

At this point my ego and my true self are competing. My ego wants to conquer David's heart. My true self would want to be vulnerable, trusting the process of a painful but real love experience.

My ego: not looking for anything particular. I want to see where this goes. No pressure. (Just the same old bullshit cliché line of dating books)

Myself: love. A man to love.

After finalising my thoughts, 'I want a man who's not afraid of me.'

Finally the norepinephrine of my Arabica is kicking in, my mind is wandering in thoughts. Fuck me. David Levit can fuck my mind!

'I want a man who is not afraid to be with a woman like me: internationally well traveled. Cultured. Highly cultured. Intelligent and intellectual. Someone not afraid to challenge me.

I don't have cock preferences. Maybe small?'

(Actually big is good, but my experience with my Israeli friend, he has a small. In my experience only ungenerously endowed men ask such question. They'd rather pre-empt than get their feelings hurt)

'Oh no. I have a big cock. Sorry, I'm not the man you're looking for.' Straightforward answer from David.

'Actually I have no preference. I only said small, because my experience with men... only small to average men tend to ask such questions.

I can enjoy a small, a large and a medium. It's the man. Not the cock.

I'm not most women. I'm Olivia.

A man's essence is beyond his length and girth.

FYI I'm raised by a single dad who's a former chief economist and chief executive who is very hands-on with parenting - his office is a like a home. Because of this I have a good enough appreciation and respect for a man.

How a woman treats a man, is a reflection of the quality of her relationship with her opposite sex parent.

This is speaking from experience.'

I never thought I could be this honest to a man.

'I agree. Our relationship to our opposite sex parent is a reflection on how we treat the opposite sex.

Interesting.

I have many experiences. Women only love cocks. Women in my youth were only after my huge cock. Women over thirty, only love my money.

I want a woman with many experiences.

Tell me more about your experiences.'

David is finally opening up to me. I smiled. I saw this as a challenge. Not be the women, David have experienced.

So far, we are clicking.