My friend Marissa is a boy magnet. She constantly encourages me to show more skin and wear tighter clothes—I constantly buy oversize sweater dresses and opaque tights. If this were The Babysitter's Club, she would be the pro flirt Stacy, and I'd be the kooky art girl Claudia. But I don't believe in dressing for anyone but myself—guys included—and even the self-proclaimed Man Repeller is often photographed looking pretty dishy. So I figured, whatever, I'll wear what I want.
Then I showed up to a dinner party uptown. My friend—a dude who swore up-and-down to me, often, that he'd rather choke on bad sushi than be in a relationship—arrived with - surprise! - a new girlfriend. She was lovely and fun and the perfect supper table chatterbox. But OMG, she was wearing a crop top that turned her torso into a billboard for midday sex. To a dinner party. At a friend of a friend's house. (One more time: OMG.)
"No relationships, huh?" I teased my friend in the kitchen. The guy shrugged and gave a hopeless smile, as if to say, "How could I resist?"
I left after dessert, feeling a little rattled. Not because I wanted this guy—at least, I don't think I did; I'd always been crushing on someone else. But this girl's outfit did leave me wondering, "What if I tried that sexpot vibe, just for fun? Would guys change their ways at the mere sight of my belly button?" The answer is no, because I only go to Pilates once a week. But still, I figured, what's the harm in trying Melissa's advice and going a little sexier with my look?
My friend Marissa is a boy magnet. She constantly encourages me to show more skin and wear tighter clothes—I constantly buy oversize sweater dresses and opaque tights. If this were The Babysitter's Club, she would be the pro flirt Stacy, and I'd be the kooky art girl Claudia. But I don't believe in dressing for anyone but myself—guys included—and even the self-proclaimed Man Repeller is often photographed looking pretty dishy. So I figured, whatever, I'll wear what I want.
Then I showed up to a dinner party uptown. My friend—a dude who swore up-and-down to me, often, that he'd rather choke on bad sushi than be in a relationship—arrived with - surprise! - a new girlfriend. She was lovely and fun and the perfect supper table chatterbox. But OMG, she was wearing a crop top that turned her torso into a billboard for midday sex. To a dinner party. At a friend of a friend's house. (One more time: OMG.)
"No relationships, huh?" I teased my friend in the kitchen. The guy shrugged and gave a hopeless smile, as if to say, "How could I resist?"
I left after dessert, feeling a little rattled. Not because I wanted this guy—at least, I don't think I did; I'd always been crushing on someone else. But this girl's outfit did leave me wondering, "What if I tried that sexpot vibe, just for fun? Would guys change their ways at the mere sight of my belly button?" The answer is no, because I only go to Pilates once a week. But still, I figured, what's the harm in trying Melissa's advice and going a little sexier with my look?
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