Princess Sincerity

I am a dating expert. I said it, I am the date expert. I get women; I understand them. I consume them. And they love me. It doesn’t matter who you are; with a few of my tips women will be crawling all over you. 

The only problem I have is women, well, they get too attached.  My techniques are not meant for the one night stand. I make women fall hard in one night. If a committed, long term relationship is what you want, I can get it. But I cannot get you anything less.

My goal is not to find a relationship, nor is it to find a one night stand. I revel in the flirting, the small talk, and the attraction. Yet nothing more. My skill is in the art of the human mind. I understand the intricacies of its desires and complications of its functions. The fields of psychology and therapy suit me. But it is not enough for me. I strive to apply my knowledge, to test it in real life. I cannot sit across from someone and give them therapeutic advice. I like being out in the field. I call it research and women are my test subjects.

A dating expert typically is associated as being a player, a cheater. Essentially, the expert views dating as a game. I disagree. As an expert, I am a keen observer of the human psyche. I’m a charmer. I watch behavior patterns; I look for signs, clues to who is sitting across the bar. It may be a game for me: a psychological game. Psychological thrillers always interested me. My mom and I would sit in the living room reading mystery novel after mystery novel, soaking up the twists and turns, the surprises and the unanswered questions. I never admit this, but I enjoy curling up on the couch with a cup of coffee and a book to read on a snowy day. Women enjoy the thrill of being ‘picked up,’ flirted with, and lusted after. In itself is an art of mystery.

She’s stirring her drink quickly, almost agitated. I whisper something in her ear as I walk by, brushing my fingertips against her neck. She smiles and turns to look. But I was already immersed in the crowd. Now I’m the one that makes her happy and I am just out of her reach. Her eyes are scanning the place for me. She’s looking for something she never knew she wanted. I’m the mystery.

What did I say to her? Well, I could have said anything. It was in the way I caught her off guard, leaned in close sending chills all over her, and disappeared. The questions to be asked, “Who was that?” “Where did they go?” She must find out more.

“Your eyes sparkle like a thousand stars in the night sky.” That was charming.  But it was the truth laced with poetry. A romantic statement of an observation. Pretty words to whisper in her ear.

Prince Charming got his name because he gives delight and admiration. He is not called Prince Sincere. As for me, I mean what I say. I know it is exactly what they want to hear, but I am not lying. And that’s the difference. The honesty in my voice creates a security in her mind. And a desire for more. I believe one can be charming and sincere. And that’s important.

Sincerity.

I’m leaning against the bar when she sidles up next to me.

“Hello,” she says in a barely audible voice. She doesn’t look at me.

I’m observing her from the corner of my eye.

“Crown and coke?” she asked.

“Mm. Martini? Dry.” I asked.

She nods.

“You’re not what I expected.” She said.

“How do you know it’s me?”

She turns her body to me and leans an elbow on the bar and her drink on the napkin.

“Woman’s intuition,” she smiled.

“Are you disappointed?”

“Oddly, not at all,” her eyes flashed, zeroing in on my body.

“Good.” I said.

She thought she was one step ahead of me.

“It was the way you touched me, your lips against my ear and your fingers on my neck. And when you disappeared, I knew you couldn’t have gone far. The bar would be a safe bet. You’re alone, but you’re not waiting for anybody,” she said as though reading my mind. “Your body position is open, yet not welcoming. I walked by a few minutes before and I saw you shift your weight and I felt your eyes. That wasn’t the first time you’d noticed me. And you weren’t prepared for me to notice you yet.”

I shook my head. “Wow.” I said. “I’m impressed.”

“Want another one?” she motioned to my drink.

“Absolutely,” I said, watching her cautiously.

“I don’t usually drink martinis, but the happy hour makes them cheap enough to be worth it.”

“Mm,” I said. I still faced the dance floor and she leaned over the bar talking to the bartender.

I was intrigued.

“Any plans for later this evening?” She asked.

It was 11:30.

“I hadn’t planned that far ahead,” I said.

She examined me. “What? Did I throw off your game?” she smiled.

“No, no.” I smirked. “Not at all. I’m just impressed you found me so quickly.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled. “Well, after this drink do you want to get out of here?”

I looked into her eyes, searching them.

“I’d like that,” I smiled.

She put her hand on mine.

She fancies the idea that she outsmarted me. She thinks this was her idea.

She leads me out of the bar and to her car, proud of what she snatched up.

I have an unfair advantage; I have quite a bit of insight into what makes a woman, a woman. I know what makes her heart throb, what she loves and what she hates. I know her weaknesses.

Because I am one.

I am a woman.

Call me Princess Sincerity.