I like men. Lots of
them. I always have. I’m always surrounded by men and that’s the way I prefer
it. This by no means suggests I’m a slut.
Quite the contrary. I have just always been more comfortable in the
company of men. I prefer men as companions over dinner, conversation, sporting
events, concerts, on the golf course, and in any location our lust should take
us.
I am certainly comfortable as a female and enjoying all that
being a woman entails. I am constantly surrounded
by great women and have female friendships that have spanned more than 20
years. I enjoy many things that females enjoy, but I also have a certain amount
of need to be surrounded by testosterone. I can only take so much estrogen at a
time. I also have male friendships that
lasted for just as long.
I have a lot in common with men and frequently am treated as
if I’m “one of the guys”. I prefer to be
the only girl in the room. I can tie one on with the best of them. I also happen to be able to smoke, drink, burp,
throw darts, shoot pool, play poker, talk and play baseball, and talk and play
golf just as well as they can. I swear
like a sailor, talk shit and will even watch porn if forced to. I also happen not to take any shit from
anyone, especially men, and have on occasions used judo to toss a man over my
shoulder or regain control from an overly aggressive male by flipping him from
on top of me to underneath me (which may then lead to further undesired
advances for those highly turned on by this move).
I have a diversified set of interests, and am a compliment
to the male group rather than an unwelcome guest. In my poker group with ex male
co-workers, I am the only female invited to the table, and often the guys speak
candidly about women in general or a particular woman; forgetting that I happen
to be one, but I take no offense. Sometimes I agree with their complaints and
frustrations. Anything said in front of me is never repeated. I’m flattered to
be invited into the male world. Getting a front row seat to the world of males can
be an educational and unforgettable experience. It’s like getting a backstage
pass and special access to a strange and different world.
I enjoy purely platonic relationships with a variety of men.
I’m a great friend, a good ear, a strong shoulder, and there for them no matter what. They know
they can trust me. I’m reliable. And I’m cool to just hang out with. On some
occasions, however, depending on alignment of stars and planets, I will agree
to an unconditional relationship (i.e., “drive-by’s” and “booty calls” with no
questions asked by either party). It depends on the depth of the friendship to
begin with.
Any man involved with me has to accept the fact that I need
men in my life in various capacities, otherwise he won’t be around very long.
If I’m in a committed relationship, then I’m 100% committed to that man. I love
deeply and whole-heartedly to a fault.
A close friend of mine taught me how to play pool (billiards)
in college. He spent countless hours
teaching me the basics and then the tricks; such as putting English on the
ball, masse shots, combo shots, bank shots, sending the cue ball to the
opposite side of the table lengthwise and banking the ball to the opposite
corner pocket on my side of the table (the most impressive bank shot there is!),
running the table, strategy and setting up next shots, and where to strike the cue
ball to get different results. I’m also not ashamed to use the bridge. It takes
a bit of skill and flair to stabilize the cue and the bridge in order to
control the cue ball.
What an ego boost it is to succeed at a trick shot, see the
ball go in the pocket, and then see the impressed looks on the face of guys.
It’s the same thing in golf. When I out-drive, out-putt or out-match my male
opponent, it’s an awesome feeling and when a man congratulates me at the
expense of their own loss, it’s the highest compliment. Both golf and pool are
predominantly considered “male sports” and it’s hard to prove yourself in this
arena as a female. It requires extra effort to succeed and be taken seriously.
Luckily I have earned respect by my male peers in both sports.
I received a custom pool cue for a birthday present when I
was in my early twenties and the addiction began. Hanging out in pool halls with male
companions, taking advantage of unsuspecting victims as I ran the table and
took their money. I earned the nickname “Shark”. I enjoyed a group of male friends who invited
me along on Friday nights, and I became one half of a successful partnership in
billiard halls.
There were occasions when carrying my own cue stick created
undue pressure on me and sometimes the person I was playing with (for example,
a new boyfriend), and so I started to leave it home. I figure I evened the
playing field by forcing myself to use warped cue sticks, provided courtesy of
the billiard hall. But I might spend an inordinate amount of time observing and
rolling each cue stick on the table before selecting one, in order to find the
least warped. I didn’t want to disadvantage myself too much!
It’s an honor to be the one who racks up the billiard balls.
It takes a certain level of skill to create a tight rack and your opponent
appreciates it on his break. The games we played were 8-ball, 9-ball and
cut-throat.
I also happen to have another weapon in my arsenal that guys
don’t. I am endowed with an ample bosom.
When I’m doing trick shots behind my back, or bending over across the table to
do a corner shot, I (or rather my “Girls”) can provide quite a distraction to
my competitor. It isn’t intentional. I don’t use this as a weapon. It just
comes with the territory of being female. I want to win by skill, not by psychological
warfare. I keep them as contained as possible, while maintaining optimal
comfort.
Playing pool began as a great winter activity, an
accompaniment to drinking and socializing, and also a great date activity. Pool
challenges the mind. Even if you have no shot to make, what you do with that
shot can certainly impact your opponent’s next shot.
There’s also a threshold to how much alcohol you can drink
before it becomes disruptive to your own game. Shots become wilder. The cue
stick becomes unwieldy. It’s a delicate balance to know how much to drink to
loosen yourself up and when to cut yourself off. I don’t want to give my competitor the upper
hand!
*Due to holiday travel,
the next blogspot post is delayed until 2/21. The upcoming post will revert back to a "light" post more typical of this blog, and then the tone of this blog will change significantly moving forward; to align more with the content of my forthcoming book. I will be opening up about a lot of things and facing down many ghosts and demons publicly. I'm hoping that readers who relate to the book chapters and upcoming posts will reach out to me, and if the posts help anyone in their own personal struggles, then I have succeeded in my mission as a writer.
**To see me sooner, my next SFBayGirl posts will appear on http://sfbaygirl.co on 1/24 and 2/6. I will also post 5 new poems at https://scriggler.com/Profile/giannone on 2/1. Follow me on Twitter at @LISAGNO for publish announcements!!
