Audacious & Salacious in Stilettos

It’s actually very simple.

First, I lucked out with my genes. I am quite symmetrical, I inherited large breasts for my size, my eyes possess a mercurial depth, and I have no idea how I suddenly developed an ass — but YAY! Therefore, it’s fair to say I am arguably attractive.

But honestly, I don’t take much stock in my looks. When people compliment me, I feel like I should pass their words on to my parents — since, quite frankly, I had nothing to do with it.

Then add in my personality.

My greatest pride and asset is my intelligence, which, in conjunction with a lovely cocktail of a naturally charismatic demeanor, a hard-fought strength of character, and a carefully constructed moral compass that evolves through experience, makes me… well, a handful.

One thing that warms my heart to no end is when my sister, Hannah, tells everyone I have a heart of gold — and I genuinely concur. My heart bleeds for those who struggle in any way, shape, or form, and I can’t stop myself from trying to help. I strive every moment to be a genuinely kind, understanding human being (because my parents raised me right — thank you, Mom and Dad).

I remember when my great aunt, a nun, once visited New York and her friend from the convent stopped mid-sentence to tell me I have a natural aura that makes others feel calm and accepted. (And let’s be honest — if anyone has the authority to make that judgment, it’s a nun.)

That explains why, throughout my life, people have always poured their hearts out to me — often thanking me profusely afterward, which is both endearing and bizarre.

And this isn’t arrogance — it’s self-awareness. I am confident in saying I’m pretty damn cool. (It’s funny how the geeks and nerds turn out to be the best people you’ll ever meet.)

Not to mention, I’m fun. I live life to the fullest because near-death experiences have blessed me with a perspective I wouldn’t trade for anything. I live to make people laugh because life is far too short and precious to waste.

I also have a dark, sultry, asshole sense of humor that most people wouldn’t expect to come out of me — and I love that. The shock-value jokes keep people on their toes. And honestly, I don’t even care if people find me funny — because I crack myself up all day.

Now, back to the point.

The reason men fall so hard for me is simple:
I’m an excellent candidate for breeding (instinctively assessed like a broodmare), and they put me on a pedestal I don’t deserve to be on because they don’t actually listen.

They don’t see me. They see their fantasy version of me — and delude themselves into believing that’s reality.

Men meet me and start checking off the boxes: could she be someone I could reproduce with? Introduce to Mom? Take out drinking? Fantasize about in silk sheets and still brag about to the boys?

They create this rose-hued illusion of a woman who can bro out like a best friend but morph into their personal Aphrodite on command.

(Spoiler alert: Bullshit. I’m definitely the Maverick in any relationship — Goose can follow along.)

Yes, when I find the right man, I’ll proudly play that role — but I’ll never be a Stepford Wife or a Sport Fish, as Steve Harvey coined.

I am a beautifully flawed woman with aspirations and goals, confidently guessing what the next move should be — and often failing spectacularly. I’ll never fit into the mold anyone demands of me because:

1. Fuck you for trying.
2. I am who I am and will be who I decide to be.
3. I’ll always take anything anyone tells me with a grain of salt until I’ve researched or experienced it myself.

And as difficult as my father can be, I thank him for gifting me his stubbornness, strength, and tenacity.

Honestly, I intentionally lead with my worst foot forward because I need to know if someone can accept me as I am.
There is no masquerade. I am so not perfect — and I fully accept that.

I strive constantly to improve myself and understand the why behind every correction — something that infuriates those who think they’re “above me,” because I won’t just accept something unless there’s evidence to back it up.

I am a strong, independent, opinionated, passionate, open-minded woman.

But one of my greatest fears — the one that keeps manifesting — is abandonment.
It’s difficult to trust people when the older you get, the more faith in humanity erodes. Bit by bit, the shitty people chip away at your resolve.

The worst are the ones you let in — the ones you give the power to hurt you.
And the most wretched are those who intentionally try to break you just to bring you down to their level — whether they realize it or not.

The sad thing is, my gut is always right about people. Always.
I just keep praying they’ll prove me wrong — and watch as they hang themselves with their own rope.

Thankfully, I’ve finally found the friends I’ve been searching for.
“The blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb.” Thank you for that, Sarah.

Now, to the insanity.

I drive men crazy because:

A. I’m uninterested in pursuing anything romantic — and my friendship isn’t appreciated or respected enough to overcome that.
B. I can (and will) walk away without a backward glance, completely disassociating the moment someone intentionally wrongs me.

It might take time for me to acknowledge someone’s true colors — but as I said, I’m almost never wrong. By the time I cut someone off, I’ve been watching closely, ensuring my verdict is fair.

And this drives people rabid.

People always want what they can’t have.
And worse — when they realize too late that they lost something they should’ve revered instead of neglected or abused.

There’s nothing more infuriating to them than being completely ignored — cut off, unseen, irrelevant.

The irony? They get mad at the victim they wronged, instead of facing the pain of accountability.

Now, follow me back out of the rabbit hole.

Moral of the story:
LISTEN when someone tells you who they really are.
RECOGNIZE when someone’s actions reveal their character.
STOP projecting yourself onto others.
REALIZE true love is finding perfection in another’s flaws.
And PRAY you never overlook it.

Because, world — check your hubris.
No one appreciates a narcissistic megalomaniac.