Misbehaving Men Are Like Magnets for Me
The chemistry feels like a mad science experiment
They say you should be the energy you wish to attract. I must have been an exceptionally fun guy in a former life because I attract the most enchanting energy from fun guys.
My attraction toward misbehaving men is undeniable and seems to also be unavoidable. Their attraction toward me feels the same, whether it’s an amorous attraction or not.
If I were to walk into a room full of men, the one who would automatically connect to my spirit is the court jester. The sarcastic jackass. He who laughs the most.
The arousing sensation of my spirit fusing with these jesters is a bit complicated for me. On one hand, I’m satisfied just being in the same space as them as much as possible, because they generate laughter and amusement.
On the other hand I also kind of want to jump their bones because amusement translates into a hefty dose of sexual arousal on my end.
Is there a label for this?
The excitement of being in a jester’s presence is overwhelming and I can’t get enough of it. Comical men are like crack to me. I find myself deliberately clowning around, instigating moments of playfulness, wisecracking and whimsy.
I behave this way solely for entertainment purposes — both mine and theirs — and they reciprocate, as if on cue.
If anyone were to ask what my type of man is, my answer would be lively and entertaining. It makes no difference what he looks like, I just want to be around this behavioral type.
Sharp wit and an intoxicating laugh automatically translates into attractive, bone-jumping status.
As a real-life example, I work with a man who behaves the same way I do. I swear he’s the male version of me and I’m crushing on him in a bad way because of it.
When I heard Max* was coming on board I jokingly asked, “Is he hot?”
A girl can dream, right? Who doesn’t want a hot man in the workplace?
When he joined our team he was somewhat reserved while getting to know his new colleagues, which is understandable.
I had zero attraction toward him because physically, he’s not someone I would consider upon first glance. He’s a good looking guy and all but not someone I’d normally fantasize over.
Max is a grown man with braces who never smiled much in the beginning, and his resting face is intimidating, to say the least.
He’s tall with a decent build, walks with a swift, confident gate. His haircut is military-grade, very tidy at all times, and he’s got a closely shaven shadow on his face.
He is of East Indian descent and upon first introduction, I picked up on his thick Indian accent. The only significance in mentioning his ethnicity is because sometimes people from different cultures don’t pick up on western wit and sarcasm the way we westerners do.
I soon found out this was not the case with Max.
Max and I are on the same management level at work, each looking after different teams. We both have some authority over each others’ teams so we have to work in close quarters daily.
In due time, his true self started shining through. Max began opening up and becoming more social with colleagues and it was then that I discovered he’s a completely sarcastic prick.
My spirit immediately began gravitating toward his prick side and the two of us quickly began behaving as one satirical, backhanded unit. The kind of unit that patronizes everyone in our vicinity, just for kicks.
We feed off each other’s jokes and comments, we give all of our team members a facetiously hard time, we make cruel fun of each other every opportunity we get, and we tell each other to fuck off at least ten times a day. On the rare occasion that we’re not audibly saying it, we’re flashing each other the finger with both hands from across the office.
Max and I most definitely laugh more than two people should ever laugh in a workplace, more often than all our colleagues combined. We’re pretty much untouchable in the humor department.
Herein lies my problem. Each time we erupt in laughter together it is highly arousing for me, to the point where I envision slamming him up against a wall and destroying him.
Max also has a fiery temper and I’ve seen him lose it on his team occasionally. Sometimes it takes him days to recover from a tantrum and during those days I taunt the hell out of him because I like playing with fire. But he won’t budge out of a mood until he’s ready.
I fantasize about him losing his shit on me someday, except in my dreams it ends in volatile, erotic sex.
A mere six months ago I thought he was a quiet weirdo with braces and now I can’t stop myself from wanting to annihilate him in a sexual showdown.
These types of fantasies are not isolated incidences for me. I am this way with nearly all men who share the same level of wittiness and confidence that I have.
Men with those personality traits get an instant pass into my inner circle. It’s like we share alpha-human qualities and I feel the need to either devour them or keep them on my team for future use.
It’s quite possible that this could be a power-tripping thing. Teams are always stronger than individuals and I get off on being recognized as part of Team Wit, Team Sarcasm, and Team Prick.
At work, everyone sardonically refers to us as the “dream team.”
Those of us who can banter with the best of them are always front and center, and that’s my place. Nobody messes with us and it’s where I fit in.
It may be just coincidence that most members of Team Prick happen to be men. If only I could get over my urge to want to sexually destroy them all.
It’s almost as if a wild woman is sleeping within me and she’s instantly awakened and aroused by mischief. The more I get the more I want.
