Hating the Boss

by Kristen Granata

My mom says that’s how you know something’s wrong: You start downplaying your unhappiness and comparing it to domestic abuse.

“Dance with your friends. I’m not going anywhere.” I arch an eyebrow. Why? I want to ask. Why waste your time on me when you can have any girl in this place eating out of the palm of your hand?

The real feat is keeping a man’s attention. And Raegan’s keeping mine for three reasons. Reason One: She read me and my friends like a book. She’s perceptive, which tells me she’s smart. Intelligence is sexy to a man. Notice how I said to a man. If a guy’s intimidated by a woman’s brain, it means he’s insecure about his own intelligence. Also, he probably has a small pecker. Reason Two: Raegan was embarrassed by the balloons her friends brought her. She doesn’t want her personal business to be put on display, which shows she isn’t an attention-seeker. I’m not into narcissists. Been there, done that. Reason Three: She’s confident. This is where people tend to get confused. Some women claim to be confident when in reality, they’re just plain rude. There’s a difference between confident and conceited. Raegan looked me in the eye and smiled, but didn’t act like she was better than anyone. She wasn’t trying to be sexy or funny. Plus, there was something honest in her eyes. Vulnerable. Maybe the hurt in me sensed the hurt within her.

This is how sex should be. It’s not a sprint, a race to the finish line. It’s about indulging your senses. A tasting. Exploring to find what you like, taking the time to enjoy every kiss, every touch, every movement. This is what was missing from the random hookups I’d grown tired of. Passion.