Attention Whoring, Pathetic

Me: In Clothes

People refuse to allow me to not care about my looks. People refuse to accept that I just don’t give a shit about how I’m dressed and how desirable that makes sex with me seem. I’m not just talking about people who first meet me, but close friends who don’t understand my style of dress.

They come up to me and say: “Y’know that look you go for? well…” No. I don’t. I’m not going for a look. I just don’t care what I look like most of the time. That is not to say that I don’t dress up. I like playing dress up sometimes, but on a day to day basis my clothes are whatever dirty clothes I grab off my pile near my bed and those clothes are not typically bought with any forethought. Typically not even bought.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t care how you dress – it’s fine to have aesthetic that you aim for – it’s just not something I do. I’m not trying to be hip by looking like I don’t care, I”m not trying to be quirky, or pull off some statement. I’m just attempting to be comfortable – and comfortable sometimes means picking uncomfortable colthes that are sitting close to my bed and are therefore easy to grab.

I love attention, but I got over my need to grab attention with my body fabrics by freshman year of college. I can do it with my loud penis jokes, my untimely belching, and my loud penis jokes.

I get told that I look good sometime, always with surprise as though I tried something different today and they like it. “Try it again” No thank you. I will not try at all. Trying is boring.


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