Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I think we all know that one strange nerdy girl that’s a little twisted, maybe even a little too insecure and bordering on scary-desperate. Like Michelle, the flute playing, band camp character from American Pie, or maybe more like Osgood, the scarf wearing, inhaler sucking character from Doctor Who. She typically mumbles sarcastic comments under her breath, dresses like she doesn’t much care, almost always looks a little unhappy, and occasionally blurts out an inappropriate comment that lets you know she was thinking about something you wouldn’t think she was thinking about, like maybe sex. Well that’s me. One of my old college roommates called me a female version of ‘Sketchy Jeff’. I’ve always been weird. It’s no secret that most women are more social than most men. That’s typical of extroversion. It’s also no secret that most women rely on feelings when making decisions, they’re more empathetic. Most women are also more sensitive to the moment and less likely to think about the future. I’m not like those women. It wasn’t until I met my one and only female ex-lover that I began to understand why I am different. I am an introvert. This is not a story about sexy extroverts hooking up and having meaningless sex. This is a story about how us quiet types find meaning and each other in a society where we don’t fit in. Female introverts are in the minority of all women, but I am one of the rarer sub-types, a thinker/analyzer who doesn’t feel emotions the way most women do. I often feel nothing at all, but I can go to the other extreme, feeling any one of the emotions, or several at once, in a heartbeat. This usually happens without any obvious sign, but I can have my meltdowns and my moments of unconcealed exuberance, too. They just don’t usually happen where others witness them. My type can be anything from strippers to embalmers, because we just aren’t sensitive to and don’t care about what most people think about us. We do what we are good at and what we are interested in doing, but we are often very strange about being touched by other living people. And we are often deviant in many ways. I chose neither of those interestingly deviant career paths. I’m just a corporate office worker who doggedly chases down the sources of bad data and reconciles them, mostly in the financial realm. But like many introverts of my type, I can actually put on a variety of public faces, assuming that I have enough preparation time, so I can pass for normal when the situation calls for it, but not for very long. People who associate with me on a daily basis always discover the sketchy side of me. In case you are wondering, I am not a lesbian. I having nothing against people getting their jollies with whomever, as long as they are consenting adults, but I am not only attracted exclusively to men, some might call my attraction to them not entirely healthy. I’m not a stalker or anything dangerous, just a little weird about them. I was crying over a breakup with a man in a secluded corner of a college library when I was discovered and comforted by a librarian who already had me pegged as an introvert from my history of visiting there. I didn’t know this about myself at the time. I thought I was just a social misfit because I was weird. I didn’t know that so many other people shared my personality traits. I had just learned that my now ex-boyfriend, whom I now refer to as My Big Mistake, was cheating on me and also laughing about my weirdness to our mutual friends behind my back and talking about things that he should have been keeping private. The cheating was just a little bit hurtful, because I think I would have cheated on him under the right circumstances. But laughing at me and making fun of me crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. I confronted him about it and he admitted it. I told him it was over and he physically tried to stop me from leaving. I guess he thought everything would be okay if he appealed to my pussy instead of my brain. Unfortunately he had good reason for thinking that might work, but it didn’t work this time or ever again with him. I kneed him in the balls and left him on the floor, and maybe that wasn’t a good idea because I later learned that he found a way to get revenge. The librarian was a lesbian and also an introvert who showed me some sympathy and got past my normal defenses to learn what a douche bag My Big Mistake was as I cried into the tea she served me to soothe me. She challenged me to give the other team a try and took me to her place when I agreed. She treated me very lovingly, gave my clit the first touch of human tongue, strapped on a dildo and gave me my first orgasm from penetration, coached me through licking her pussy until I returned the favor, and then became my very best friend for a while. In short, she taught me how good sex with another person was supposed to be. We never Kadıköy Escort had sex again after that first time. It was a mercy fuck. She had all the empathy a person could want, but she quickly understood my type of introversion and knew that we would be incompatible as lovers. She taught me that introversion isn’t something that can be or needs to be cured because it isn’t a mental disorder. She helped me on a journey of self-discovery that got me through a series of unsatisfying one-night stands with typical men and then, upon graduation from college, to a career in a new city far from home where I could get a fresh start from the reputation I had developed in college. Learning from her that it was okay to be an introvert was the key. At that gets me to the day when this story really begins, I was only five months out of college and twenty three years old and working my first career job in Grand Rapids, Michigan. As women go, I’m far less talkative than most. I think quickly but words come to me slowly. That’s why I prefer writing. My IQ is nicely above average but my EQ, my Emotional Quotient, is unfortunately below average. I’m low on empathy and I tend to over-think everything when it comes to social interactions. I miss a lot of clues that both women and men are giving off and I misread and over-analyze a lot of other ones. On top of all that, I have ‘resting bitch face’ so even when I am happy, it appears to most people that I am anything from pissed off to completely without feelings except for a hint of contempt or disdain. And I guess I should also mention that I have imaginary conversations with my pussy because that’s kind of important to the story. I’ve tried, but these traits are not things that I can actually ‘work on’. They are just how I am. Fortunately in my work, this is not an issue. My intellect and diligence are highly valuable and appearing to be a ‘cold fish’ is actually a plus, because most people don’t want to associate with me and thus don’t distract me from the intense concentration that my work requires. Fortunately, being this way is how I was immune to the ‘go away’ signals from the guy this story is about. My association with him started just before he said, “Why are you talking to me?” It was interesting having one of my own tactics used against me. The handsome man was clearly sending out the ‘conversation not welcome’ vibe, something very few men have ever done with me until after they’ve gotten to know me. I guess I am sufficiently attractive to not be automatically rejected by most guys. I’m reasonably slender and taller than average at 5’10”. I have shoulder length chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, a face that won’t launch a thousand ships, but neither will it stop any well-made clocks. Oh, and I also have what My Big Mistake called a ‘fairly decent rack over a truly fuckworthy cunt’. Yeah, he was a class act. My lesbian friend told me that he was only objectifying me because he was intimidated by my intellect. I expressed doubt own when she told me that, because I didn’t think a smart woman would have made such a big mistake. “Our pussies are just as stupid as their dicks. Learning when it is safe to listen to them is what our brains are for.” That was the start of my conversations with my stupid pussy. For these first five months after I got my job, I ignored the demands from my pussy to find it some cock. I had a career to secure, some sex toys, and a rich fantasy life to satisfy my sexual appetite. But I was missing a close deep friendship like I had with the librarian back in Joliet. We kept in touch through social media, but it just wasn’t the same. I would not have even known that this handsome man existed if one of my coworkers, a shallow woman named Shar whom I don’t hate but who tends to talk too much during my breaks from my work, hadn’t complained about my introverted behavior when she was trying to gossip with me by saying, “You’re as bad as Marshall Thornton.” Oh? My interest was immediately piqued. I’ve learned that when an extrovert describes me that way, it usually means the other insulted person is also an introvert. In other words, there’s a good chance that they are my kind of people. Someone who can better understand me. A kindred spirit. A person who appreciates a deeper level of friendship than many people are capable of. Even, a potential candidate for my ‘inner circle’ of friends, something Shar could never possibly achieve. “Who is Marshall Thornton, Shar?” His name did not feel unpleasant on my tongue. That was the first test he passed. “Ah, finally a glimmer of interest in conversation from Krista. He’s a hermit like you. A recluse who would spend all his time in his cubicle near the server room if his boss didn’t make him come out for meetings and lunches. He sits in the far corner of the cafeteria, Kadıköy Escort Bayan facing the wall. He’s always got his nose in a book, just like you. You’ve probably never seen him because you eat your lunch here because our boss lets you get away with it.” “You’re kidding me, right? His boss makes him eat lunch in the cafeteria?” “No joke. And he’s one handsome available dude, but he’s hard to talk to, like you. He always seems like he’s amused by how uncomfortable he’s making people and like he doesn’t need anyone because he’s got some secret life or something. Just like you. A lot of the single women have tried to get to know him and struck out. I suppose he could be gay, but he doesn’t seem to have any male friends either. You two could probably sit and ignore each other and be perfectly happy together.” I felt my spirits soar a little. I knew she was trying to insult me. It was a game with her to try to find a way under my skin. It actually made me closer to her, because she could sometimes make me smile with her feeble attempts, and that was a victory to her, because it meant that she had made me feel something. But since moving to Grand Rapids, I hadn’t met any interesting men. This Marshall Thornton sounded interesting because he sounded like a potential kindred spirit. So I went to lunch in the cafeteria that very day to get a look at him. I don’t have any particular anxiety about being in large rooms with lots of people. I just generally prefer the company of St. Fu, the patron saint of silence. I got to the cafeteria early and sat where I could watch the most remote corner. A short time later, a tall handsome man who looked like maybe he was in his late twenties took his tray to the corner, sat facing the wall, and started reading a very surprising book. My pussy started telling me that I had to fuck this man and I agreed with her, if only I could find a way to make it happen. He was about 6′ 3″ and nicely muscular, with black hair, blue eyes, and what my mother called a ‘Marlboro Man’ face. Shar was also right about his unapproachability. He exuded ‘Stay away!’ as if it was a matter of safety for all involved. That impression intensified when he sensed my approach. “Pardon me.” “Why are you talking to me?” “Because I just wanted to say that I admire your taste in trashy literature and I’m very surprised to see that any other person in this company reads Jim Butcher.” I showed him that I was reading the exact same book that he was, the latest installment of a series that had only been released to the public one day previously, meaning that he must have been waiting for its arrival. I had been a fan of the Harry Dresden books since I picked up the first one at the Joliet Public Library when I was still in high school. I identified with the Molly character who becomes a wizard’s apprentice. I could see that he was very surprised when he recognized what I was holding. “I’m Krista, named after a dead teacher who had the misfortune of briefly riding a space shuttle, but my mother misspelled it with a ‘K’ on my birth certificate.” Doh! Why did I say that? “Marshall, named after a horseback riding federal gunslinger I guess. My mother apparently also misspelled my name. Two ‘l’s. Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m at a very interesting point in the book and I don’t have much time.” “Of course. Not a problem. From one introvert to another, I fully understand. Enjoy.” I turned and walked back to my lunch, hoping he at least glanced at my backside and liked what he saw. I suddenly realized that Shar and some other women were watching from another table. They seemed satisfied that I had been trounced by his personality, but I considered it a plus that he had taken the time to time to tell me about the spelling of his name and to point out that we had something else in common. I smiled as if I had won a victory. The next day, I sat closer to the wall and facing it, but not in ‘his’ corner. I had to threaten Shar with bodily harm to keep her from sitting with me so I wouldn’t look so pathetic. Fortunately she took me seriously enough when I said, “It’s my social suicide. Don’t make it also a homicide.” I was reading my book when I sensed someone behind me and noticed the faint smell of woodsmoke that I had detected when talking to Marshall the previous day. I felt a thrill and knew that he was making a decision. He made the choice in my favor and stepped into view. “Um, Hi Krista. I want to apologize if I seemed rude yesterday. I’m not used to meeting people who share my tastes in… almost anything really. Would you like to read quietly together?” I immediately recognized this for what it was, not just an indication of interest, but also a compatibility test. “That would be cool, Marshall. And the apology isn’t necessary. I’m not that sensitive. My emotional Escort Kadıköy skin is probably as thick as yours. Have a seat.” The real test was keeping quiet when I had a million things I wanted to say. I really didn’t get much reading done, but I pretended to as I noticed a million details about him. Everything from how many shakes of the salt shaker went into his french onion soup to how he marked his page when he finished reading and thanked me for letting him join me. And the faint smell of woodsmoke was making me cray-cray. It was almost impossible to keep from squirming as my nipples seemed to sense every fiber in contact with them and I felt my panties getting steadily more drenched. The following day, I waited and found him sitting back in his corner but turned slightly toward where I had sat the previous day. I approached from behind him and sensed his apprehension when he detected my approach, but then he relaxed when he saw that it was me. “I can sit elsewhere if you need privacy today, Marshall. I’m only going to read.” “It’s okay. Have a seat, Krista. It’s a good corner for reading. More light from the window. And you seem to appreciate a need for silence.” Reading quietly together soon became our daily ritual, but it always started with a greeting and that evolved into conversing a little more each day while eating, followed by silence as we read a chapter or two. It is in the nature of introverts to hate small talk, so when it became okay to acknowledge that we had a deepening connection between us, it became okay to discuss the important kinds of topics, like about the importance of quality vs. quantity of friendships. This is a big issue for many of the less emotionally expressive introverts, because two or three deep friendships are more emotionally satisfying and less draining than the many more casual friendships that the majority of the population seems to favor. On some days, we didn’t read at all because the conversation was stimulating enough. We slowly learned each other’s interests this way. Very slowly. We eventually shared a few horror stories about past relationships with extroverts, people whose need for social interaction was much stronger, and better accepted by society than our need for solitude and quiet. I learned that he had very little respect for ‘typical’ women, which meant extroverts and women who lacked his ability to analyze data and accept facts for what they are. Of course, he made a point of recognizing that I was exceptional. In all but a few highly specific areas of interest related to his career field, I could keep up with him intellectually and that had to seem rare to him for anyone, male or female. It was a pleasure to talk to someone whose interests were so cerebral and who talked to me as an equal. Likewise, he learned that I had trust issues with men and believed that lying, cheating, and emotional abuse were typical male behaviors. I explained a little bit about My Big Mistake and I might have left him with the impression that I had sworn off men forever, because getting any closer seemed to stall, but he still found me worth conversing with. The problem with that was that it was becoming impossible to ignore the screams from my pussy that I was a fool for not jumping all over him so she could have her fun. I could see that we were never going to get past our lunchtime routine unless I took the bull by the balls and risked a little rejection, something that introverts of my type seem even more unwilling than most women to do. So I learned where his cubicle was and I brought him a half dozen homemade cupcakes on Valentine’s Day. I had learned of his fondness for spice cake and got a scratch recipe from the Internet. I told him that I considered him to be an exceptional man and my only Valentine. I insisted that he try one of the cupcakes right away and he complimented me profusely. He apologized that he hadn’t thought to get me anything, but I told him that I had kept half of the cupcakes at home as my present from him. Then I blurted that I was just happy to breathe in that wonderful woodsmoke smell that comes from his clothes. His jacket was hanging on a hook on the wall and I leaned over and took a big sniff of it. I’m sure that my nipples stiffened and I think that he noticed. I may have even got a little wet when I noticed that he was embarrassed. He offered me one of the cupcakes, but our conversations after that got a little more friendly and flirty in a nerdish way. I eventually complained about how noisy my roommate is and how I saved every penny that I could spare to pay off my student loans so I could move out and live alone. This all lead up to a pivotal conversation when he noticed one day that I was in a worse than average mood. It was a darn good thing that it was my roommate and not PMS that was the cause. “What’s up? You seem distracted.” “I’m just really not looking forward to this weekend. My roomie just broke up with another boyfriend and that means she’s going to be a mopey clingy mess for a while. We’ve been through this a few times. She’s going to try to drag me out to clubs and I’m just not in the mood to play wingman.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32