This summer I want to be a heartbreaker. I want to lie in the sun in a fishnet beaded maxi dress with a bikini underneath, and when guys come over to ask for a lighter, I want to make them trip all over their words, want them to linger even after they’ve used it, trying to think of something to say to keep the conversation going. I want to bring guys I’m seeing to parties, and for my friends to be like, “Which one’s this? Is this coffee shop guy or theater lighting guy?” because they’ve lost track of who I’m dating.
I’ve been making decent progress so far this year. A guy I slept with a couple of times in a casual way now wants to go on an actual date and take me to a fancy restaurant where they come over and pour your water for you. I keep stalling because it’s fun watching him work for it. I went on a night out the other weekend, and this other guy I think is cute stopped to chat to me on the way to the restroom. We spoke for about an hour, so he must have been desperate to go by the end. After a while, his friend came over and I could tell he fancied me a bit too, and I told them both lots of stories about my driving instructor, Barry, who used to give me really deranged notes at the end of each lesson that said things like, “Everything I say is a million percent correct,” and they both laughed loads, and I lit up with the attention.
So much of morphing into a heartbreaker is about aesthetics. I used to think getting older meant looking worse, but I’m realizing it means the opposite. I know what clothes suit me now, wear jeans that actually fit. I put the right amount of make-up on so that it just looks like I’ve got great skin rather than like I’m wearing foundation. I’ve been dressing less like a girl and more like a woman—still sexy, but with fewer miniskirts and corsets. I’ve found this really good hair product that stops my bob from puffing out into a triangle. But most of it is a question of the way you carry yourself. It’s believing that you’re the main character. It’s confidence, taking time with what you have to say, holding your head up, eye contact. It’s wanting things less so you get them more, asking what they add to your life and not the other way around. It’s not drinking so much. It’s getting closer to who you were meant to be with every year that passes.
It sounds kind of mean, and maybe it is a little. But I’m not saying that I want to mess around with people, to lead them on. I’ve done that before—been unclear about what I wanted, let things carry on longer than I should have because I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I’ve been bad at texting back. I’m not talking about that stuff. I just want options, drama. I want guys to pay for my Ubers. I want to get what I want more. I want to become even more persuasive. Even more captivating. I want the world to revolve around me.