Here are the Rules if You Want to Play

I had always had a thing for power. But I didn’t care about being powerful myself. There was no fun for me being a powerful woman. What I wanted was to be the mastermind behind the power — the woman who has power over a powerful man. That got me off like nothing else whether I was in or out of bed with said man. It means it went way beyond sex as a physical act. Fucking was no longer just fucking. It was fucking with a context. It was riding the promise of who he was and how his power could validate me. It was getting high and so high on knowing his pretentious corporate job title, feeling his expensive watch pressing against my wrist as he pinned me down and aggressively spanked me, watching him go down on me with a mouth sweet of whiskey and red of my blood — he didn’t mind it because he adored women, me, that much. It was so hot it was intoxicating. I got turned on just by getting a text from him telling me he was at work, showing me photos of his office desk and monitor screens with colourful graphs I didn’t understand but I could tell they were money, a lot of money. And a lot of money is always fun.

There was a man like that in my life. I called him E. He was 14 years older than me. Same field, though unimaginably more ahead. Fun, ambitious guy with a soft, sexy accent. The kinda guy confident enough to grab and kiss me within 15 minutes of meeting me at a hotel bar. The kinda guy whose every possession and word and choice of beverage pointed out he was someone important, someone who had money and voice and presence. Especially that presence. It really was something else. It was magnetic and influential. Just being next to him and feeding off his energy was enough to make me feel glowingly elated and feminine and like I was also someone important. The best part was that, while the crowd looked at him he looked at me, whispering truths one would only tell his trusted circle and definitely not those thirsty women across the bar who wouldn’t stop making pathetic attempts to catch his attention. He said, you’re different, that’s why I’m attracted to you. So every time I masturbated, that was all I could think of. It’s like snorting cocaine except that I was already gone.

In case I sound like a horny gold digging bitch, I guess I should explain that money or sex itself has very little effect on me. I might want it but I’m not going banana for it. Saying no more often is easier than saying yes. See, alcohol, drugs, high end restaurants, private parties, cocky city boys, 2am sweaty rough sex, etc. — I’d been there and I was getting bored of what I already knew. I mean they could still be fun but there was no more thrill factor. They had become the BAU. There was no kick in the stomach that kept me on edge, consumed my mind and electrified my entire being. And I wanted that. More of that. I couldn’t stand mediocrity. I couldn’t be content living in a tiny little shielded world. My playground was not going to just be local. Look at me. I climbed high and I played wide. I wanted the evidence that I could reach any level because I was that good. Yes, career, money, being independent blah blah were all in the list but come on, that shit is so boring — I’m not writing about that. I’m writing about people because people are way more fun — especially the high-value, high-risk ones.

Like E. I loved it when he said I’m different, that those expensive looking girls in his circle who I would probably feel intimidated otherwise, got nothing on me. Though it’s not like I hadn’t anticipated that. To play with men like him — powerful men whose time and attention is limited, I must be different. I must stand out from those ass-kissing tasteless airheads whose value is down to the size of their boobs and ass. Sure, I must have boobs and ass but also intellect and femininity and the balls to be honest. The former got him to approach me; the latter kept him coming back for more and the fun rolling. I started to realise that it was never about being the most beautiful, wearing the sexiest dress or having a certain body type — all the things I used to be so insecure about. Cliche as it might sound, it’s really all about how I carry myself and embracing what’s uniquely me. Why? Because being myself is having something to offer which others don’t. Youth, beauty, feminine allure, intellectual edge, and the least likely to be mentioned of all, vulnerability — they, when combined together, exude a power that can work on anyone of whatever level. So If I use them smartly with the right approach, I could get anything I want.

I had always suspected that I had that power in me but I was never confident enough to own it. That’s why playing with E. was the perfect opportunity to get that self-esteem boost and gain the ultimate evidence of my social value. It’s like having one world-recognised brand name on your portfolio — it makes all the difference. If his worth was largely measured by his success, status and wealth, mine was proportionally validated by having his exclusive attention and affection. All my fixations on the kind of lifestyle he had, his career, social status, whereabouts were all brought vividly to life and reinforced repeatedly at lightening speed. My ego was well fed on a daily basis with ‘He wants me. He has high opinions of me. I must be valuable and special.’ Every text message he sent, every call he made, every extravagant date he took me on, pumped me up with dopamine, kicking me straight into the bottomless hole of dependency. It was crazily addictive. For one month, I got to be in a constant state of euphoria while at the same time… fearing for the brutal end date. I never knew when he would suddenly decide that he was bored of me and took away everything.

As you probably expect, this story wasn’t a fairy tale. There was no classic happy ending at a wedding ceremony where I was promised a long life of abundance and pleasure, or at a divorce court where I took half of his millions worth of assets, which is pretty much the same thing (Just kidding!) In fact, it was the modern life bitch slap which woke me the fuck up. Yes, he rightfully stopped wanting me. Normally, it would be alright. I got my fair share of fun and moved the fuck on. But there was a fatal flaw in this game I played: I had too much to lose. While he did invest money and time in me, it’s the amount he comfortably and easily spared for any girl he felt like playing with. It had no hook on him. Meanwhile, right from the beginning, I put in the basket of our relationship my entire self-esteem and well-being as I amaturely got carried away with the idea of being wanted by someone like him. It’s embarrassing for me to admit this but it’s no wonder why he’s filthy rich while I’m still living paycheck after paycheck. How? My goal was unrealistic, hence unattainable. While he clearly looked for entertainment and damn sure got it, what I wanted was to have power over him as well as having his validation 24/7 which, 100% guaranteed, I would never, ever get no matter how crazy anyone claims to be about me. What’s worse is that the accompanying anxiety overwhelmed all the fun from his flashy courtship, leaving me with nothing but longing, self-doubt and a damaged ego. In a nutshell, I lost big time.

That being said, there’s nothing wrong with wanting power or wanting to… fuck power. There are undoubtedly lots of fun playing with powerful, rich people — no shame to admit. Actually, there are lots of fun playing with anyone you like really. It’s a world full of interesting people out there who have something new to show you, something good to teach you and something personal to share with you. Either way, if you want to play like I do, learn from my lessons — there are a few things you need to remember.

1) You need to build a world for yourself. You need to know who you are, your values, your self-worth and these must not be easily shaken. These must have nothing to do with job titles, expensive watches, flattering words, sexual desires or social status. You need to learn to determine someone’s value based on how much they add to your life not solely on what they have — that’s irrelevant to you. If you can do this, when someone new and shiny comes into your life, you will need nothing from them. You will be fun and charming and independent while enjoying what your connection with them has to offer. You will not get carried away and lose all perspectives — especially what’s attractive about you. When they leave you, you will not doubt yourself and be convinced that you’re not good enough. You will accept that it’s their decision and be sure it’s also their loss. You will bounce back and move on quickly.

2) You should focus on entertainment value only. No matter how much you want anything else, how much you think you want it, you need to let it go. You need to teach yourself to stop needing what you want. Needing what you want is the one-way ticket to desperation land and trust me, there is no fun there. It just doesn’t work that way with people. Realistically, in relationships, there are only two outcomes: you break up or you live together forever after. If you focus on entertainment value, you won’t have to worry about either of these. You can always get some. You enjoy the person for who they are and the connection for what there is moment by moment. Other benefits will come as a by-product.

3) You should not use sex as a means to an end. Never. Never use sex to make someone stay. They won’t stay if they don’t want to stay. Never put up with perpetually bad sex to get other things — you won’t be able to fake it for long and whatever else you eventually get is definitely not worth it. Last but not least, never fuck someone while your mind is elsewhere. That’s a waste of fluid. Enjoy yourself, please.

Two months later, I met someone new. I called him G. He was a man I met a local bar on a typical Friday night. I knew nothing about him except that he was a blue-eyed city man with a broad shoulder and firm chest I couldn’t keep my eyes and hands off. The chemistry was so strong that we felt like we’d known each other for a very long time. One drinks, two drinks, three drinks. One bar, second bar then his place. It was so good we met again three days later then again and again. By the fourth time it suddenly struck me that I did not have to think about his job title or feel superior to other women in his social circle to get high with him. I was already high just by touching him, feeling the softness of his skin against my skin and the weight of his grown body on my body. It was real. Fucking was just fucking. I wasn’t fucking an ideal or a glorified image of a man. I wasn’t fucking my own imagination either. I was fucking a real man who was in the moment with me. I was riding a real, well, penis.

Sure, G. wasn’t the same novelty as E. But he was not mediocrity either. As it turns out, you don’t always have to climb high; you can also dig deep. G. didn’t introduce me to an unimaginably shiny new world. What he wonderfully did was that he showed me the depth of what I already knew which I hadn’t realised how much magic I was missing out on.