Just a Bit of Randomness (Maybe)

Far too many, indeed.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

An Attention Whore? Who Me?

The following post is a copy of something that I wrote about 3 years ago, taken from my Myspace blog at the time.  My, how my blogging skills have evolved!!  Lol.  But I love the content of this post because it's interesting to see exactly where I was mentally and to compare how I've changed now.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Confessions of An Attention Whore
Current mood:  Exposed....Not Like That, Nasty!
Category:  Writing and Poetry

About two hours ago, I started writing this.  A computer error and me not being smart enough to save what I wrote, and I'm back to it again, so this time it will be simpler:

I love attention.  It's easy to say that, but hard to explain, because already I'm sure you don't understand.  Not attention in the sense of being in the spotlight, known by everyone....that's nice, but eventually, it fades away.  Gets boring actually or maybe I'm just strange.  But the attention I like is special.  Unadulterated.  Specific, and oh, so addictive!  

I'm laughing right now, because this seems like the beginning of a bad novel.  But it's true.  I remember being this awkward, quiet teenage boy, who most girls never noticed, or simply ignored.  And now?  Lol.  I'm this awkward but amazingly confident young man, who most women never notice.  Until they hear my whisper and then they seem hooked. 

This is not an ego thing.  

People who know me realize I'm far too purposely modest (does that make sense...lol) to even have an ego.  But I'm also very aware of myself.  All the faults, and strangely all the charms.  I could be a master charmer, a notorious manipulator.  You know that man you love to hate (or hate to love, depending on the situation).  Usually I choose not to be that person, not because of some moral awareness, but mainly because it takes too much effort, and I'm usually disinterested by choice. 

But the women I draw seem to have an innate ability to wake my interest, and heighten it.  Then they make it a mission it seems: make Marcus want me.  Which, ironically, isn't complicated.  If you're attractive and have personality, mixed in with a little intrigue, then my nature is to be interested....it's unfortunate because a couple women (including one who now owns my heart) have ended up hurt because of my need to run to the attention.  Of course most of these "intriguing" women don't realize:  attention doesn't last.  I lose interest in the attention eventually, until the next form of attention comes along. 

This is why I call myself an attention whore.  Because I profit from it. 

I feed off the rush.  There is something interesting about knowing a person is focusing all their energy on you.  And it's funny because even when the attention is negative, such as anger or hate, there's still this small amount of satisfaction.  But in my own uniqueness, there's even more interest and intrigue in watching a person try to make you want them.  And the types of women I attract are truly outrageous but also talented in their methods and abilities.  Surprisingly the only thing that weakens them is my nonchalant approach to them.  I'm rambling now, and this is turning slowly into an essay on the psychological differences between men and women.  Lol.  I don't want that, so I'll end with this. 

My confession as an attention whore:  some days I love it, crave it, live for it, run towards it, and use it as a crutch.  Like most people who are human.  My thing is that on other days, I hate it, because I've been guilty of using it for destruction. 

This is going to be blunt, so if you've endured this far, brace yourself...lol 

Imagine if a whore (you know, fucks for money), realized that sex could go beyond just being used for money, but instead to mold people and their behavior.  Make them act according to their need for it.  Now imagine that same whore is addicted to orgasms.  (Lol, sorry, I had to laugh at that…I digress)  Now imagine he or she has mastered molding and manipulating behaviors over the years.  Not purposely, but because of lots of experience.  And imagine the addiction has increased.  Picture that whore trying to balance the manipulation with the addiction.

Over the years, sexually intense females became my manipulation.
Their attention became my orgasm.
And now here I am, drained from the experience of it all, and the most incredible woman I've ever met added to the whole equation love. 

Sound complicated? lol.....these are my confessions (sort of)

(upon rereading this, I'm so glad the computer error took place.....this feels so much more complete than what I'd started earlier....I love how this is written....lol...couldn't be modest about it this time) 

----

That was three years ago.  So much has changed since then.  I have changed since then.  Not to say that I am no longer interested in attention, but I no longer whore for it.  It doesn’t motivate nor does it control.  Since writing the above post I have stepped into the ring with Love and sparred several rounds, trading meaningful blows, only to be knocked out in the later rounds.  I've dusted myself off since that experience, attempted to learn the things I was supposed to learn, and continually try to move on from it as a better, more capable man.  While I am still confident in my ability to charm, I'd gladly trade it earnestly for the capacity to receive and reciprocate permanent love.

I have also become a father.  To a son, no less.  And that man wants his son to appreciate a woman’s beautiful soul more than her attention.  Because if he does so, then any attention she gives him will be treasured, and therefore much better.

I still notice the intoxicating smiles.  I still see those eyes that make my curiosity whisper.  And there is still that perfect hint of ample flesh that drives my desires into fifth gear.  But there is wisdom underlying all of that.  The kind of wisdom you only get from making all the mistakes.  I look for the woman beneath the smile.  Try to see her intentions within those eyes.  I want a personality that can touch me in a more pleasing way than any skin can.  And eventually, I want to tie it all together with a sincere and undying love.  Attention can’t compete with all of that.

I’ve come remarkably close in my lifetime.  Met many amazing women, some who have moved my heart in ways they will never be able to imagine.  But for now, the search continues.  When I find her, I’ll know.  Until then, I simply look and smile.  Occasionally, I’m excited.  Does that make me an attention whore?  Not likely.