I was just thinking about the incident that made me decide to become a DJ, or more accurately, made me decide to stop being an AFC.
Six years ago, I was your sterotypical AFC. Nice to everybody. Lots of female friends whose problems I listened to and whose spare time I occupied between boyfriends, but whose bodies were never available to me.
Then I met a girl. Young, about seventeen (turned eighteen two weeks after I met her). Beautiful. New in the city where I live. About to attend the same university where I was studying. Appeared to enjoy my company.Love at first sight. I did all the things that AFC's do when in love. Bought her meals. Took time off work to show her around. Waited hours in places I knew she would be, just for the chance to talk to her.
Strangely enough, this worked for awhile. She reciprocated my interest. Nothing physical happened between us but we spent a lot of time time hanging out. Once or twice she would attempt to initiate something, but being the good little AFC that I was, I would ignore these signals, waiting for the perfect time to ask her out properly.
A week later, she got drunk and lost her virginity to an Irish backpacker eleven years her senior that she had met at a bar.
It was the same bar that I had introduced her to a few weeks earlier. She and I had met the same backpacker once before. At the time, she had laughed at what a sleaze he was. She spent weeks after that crying on my shoulder. Telling me how much she missed home. How inconsiderate and rough her first time had been. Telling me she was so drunk, she had to beg him to stop several times so she could throw up in the bathroom. She told me how much she appreciated my friendship, how I was the first person to treat her like an adult. Like a good little AFC, I listened to all this and gave her all the time in the world to feel better about herself. I would comfort her after she would go out to try to find this irishman at our local bar, even though she didn't know why.
Then I asked her out. She rejected me outright, telling me it would never work out. Like a good little AFC, I told her it was alright. I was happy to still be her friend.
We stayed in contact for awhile after that. She moved out of the apartment block that I lived in. I still had strong feelings for her, but told myself that at least I hd her friendship. One day, I met the irish backpacker again at my local pub. He bragged about having "f**ked my girl". He called her "a little s**t" and spoke of having "broken her in, good and proper the way that you wished you could". Like a good little AFC, I literally picked him up and smacked him against a wall to shut him up. I had never been in a fight before, not even in high school. He ran off while I enjoyed my lovely delusions of being the honourable knight who defended the honour of the woman he loved.
I didn't mention the incident to her until six months later. One night, after too many drinks and too many stories of as*hole guys that she had slept with in college, I told her what happened. She went quiet for awhile, and then told me she felt a lot better about her first time now and that she was grateful for what I did. When she left, she gave me a hug and told me that she would always be grateful for my friendship. Like a good little AFC, I entertained fantasies about how she would realise that I was the one for her, that she would see that I was the one who truly lover her.
It was after that she withdrew from me. She told me that her mobile phone was stolen, and she had not purchased another. I took it all in stride, and assumed she was just too busy. That we were growing distant due to the different paths in life we were taking.
About a year later, I became friends with a friend of this girl. At first, she seemed distant and uncomfortable around me, but after awhile, she seemed to warm to me. One night while driving her home after a party, she told me that she had warmed to me because I was nothing like how the girl had described me. She tolkd me how this girl had told all her friends that I had spent all the time when we first met trying to convince her to give up my virginity to me.How I had apparently explicitly said to her that if she was tired of being a virgin, that I would be happy to have sex with her. How I had relentless pursued her and constantly made unwelcome propositions towards her. This mutual friend also told me of how she would talk about her first time as being perfect, and just the way that she wanted it. How a suave irishman had swept her off her feet and taught her the ways of the world. How much fun the night had been, and how she would measure all other encounters by how she had enjoyed that evening, and how she was glad that she was able to fend off the advances of the sleazy older guy who hung around her all the time.
That night, I decided I was sick of being an AFC.
I began working out. I stopped being at the back and call of my female friends. Some of them asked if they had done anything wrong, whether I was avoiding them. Some of them ended up sleeping with me to reassure themselves that I still like them. I started asking girls out. I found the less I cared about a girl, the more desperate she became to keep my attention. I stopped wanting that idealised relationship I dreamed of as an AFC, and found myself having more female attention and more sex then I could have ever imagined two years ago.
In some ways, I am glad that I met this girl. If it wasn't for her, I would probably still be desperately trying to appease women and wondering why they would run off with other guys who treated them badly. I learnt to stop expending so much energy on helping others at the expense of developing myself. I have learnt to draw boundaries, and look after my own interests. Remembering the time I was able to physically confront someone to defend the honour of someone I cared about, no matter how misguided, has given me a confidence that has spilled over into other aspects of my life, and allowed me to be more assertive then I was two years ago.
At the same time, I still find myself feeling anger at the way women behave. I sometimes look at the way that women will respond to my indifference and the way they talk about their platonic male friends, and wonder why they choose to be with me. I was once getting intimate with a gorgeous redhead I met at a bar, when her obviously concerned male friend came by to try to take her home. She told him to "p*ss off" and then after he left, laughed about what a "p*ssy" he was. I saw how hurt he looked as he left, and remembered all the times that I had been in the same position and found myself feeling enraged at this girl. although not enough to dissuade me from going back to her place not half an hour later ...
Anyway, that turned out to be a lot more detailed then I anticipated. Have other DJ's had similar experiences? Have there been specific incidents which made you decide that enough was enough? Do you find yourself sometimes questioning why women repond better to indifference then genuine concern? Just would like to know if my experiences are unique, or just something that every guy has to go through.
Six years ago, I was your sterotypical AFC. Nice to everybody. Lots of female friends whose problems I listened to and whose spare time I occupied between boyfriends, but whose bodies were never available to me.
Then I met a girl. Young, about seventeen (turned eighteen two weeks after I met her). Beautiful. New in the city where I live. About to attend the same university where I was studying. Appeared to enjoy my company.Love at first sight. I did all the things that AFC's do when in love. Bought her meals. Took time off work to show her around. Waited hours in places I knew she would be, just for the chance to talk to her.
Strangely enough, this worked for awhile. She reciprocated my interest. Nothing physical happened between us but we spent a lot of time time hanging out. Once or twice she would attempt to initiate something, but being the good little AFC that I was, I would ignore these signals, waiting for the perfect time to ask her out properly.
A week later, she got drunk and lost her virginity to an Irish backpacker eleven years her senior that she had met at a bar.
It was the same bar that I had introduced her to a few weeks earlier. She and I had met the same backpacker once before. At the time, she had laughed at what a sleaze he was. She spent weeks after that crying on my shoulder. Telling me how much she missed home. How inconsiderate and rough her first time had been. Telling me she was so drunk, she had to beg him to stop several times so she could throw up in the bathroom. She told me how much she appreciated my friendship, how I was the first person to treat her like an adult. Like a good little AFC, I listened to all this and gave her all the time in the world to feel better about herself. I would comfort her after she would go out to try to find this irishman at our local bar, even though she didn't know why.
Then I asked her out. She rejected me outright, telling me it would never work out. Like a good little AFC, I told her it was alright. I was happy to still be her friend.
We stayed in contact for awhile after that. She moved out of the apartment block that I lived in. I still had strong feelings for her, but told myself that at least I hd her friendship. One day, I met the irish backpacker again at my local pub. He bragged about having "f**ked my girl". He called her "a little s**t" and spoke of having "broken her in, good and proper the way that you wished you could". Like a good little AFC, I literally picked him up and smacked him against a wall to shut him up. I had never been in a fight before, not even in high school. He ran off while I enjoyed my lovely delusions of being the honourable knight who defended the honour of the woman he loved.
I didn't mention the incident to her until six months later. One night, after too many drinks and too many stories of as*hole guys that she had slept with in college, I told her what happened. She went quiet for awhile, and then told me she felt a lot better about her first time now and that she was grateful for what I did. When she left, she gave me a hug and told me that she would always be grateful for my friendship. Like a good little AFC, I entertained fantasies about how she would realise that I was the one for her, that she would see that I was the one who truly lover her.
It was after that she withdrew from me. She told me that her mobile phone was stolen, and she had not purchased another. I took it all in stride, and assumed she was just too busy. That we were growing distant due to the different paths in life we were taking.
About a year later, I became friends with a friend of this girl. At first, she seemed distant and uncomfortable around me, but after awhile, she seemed to warm to me. One night while driving her home after a party, she told me that she had warmed to me because I was nothing like how the girl had described me. She tolkd me how this girl had told all her friends that I had spent all the time when we first met trying to convince her to give up my virginity to me.How I had apparently explicitly said to her that if she was tired of being a virgin, that I would be happy to have sex with her. How I had relentless pursued her and constantly made unwelcome propositions towards her. This mutual friend also told me of how she would talk about her first time as being perfect, and just the way that she wanted it. How a suave irishman had swept her off her feet and taught her the ways of the world. How much fun the night had been, and how she would measure all other encounters by how she had enjoyed that evening, and how she was glad that she was able to fend off the advances of the sleazy older guy who hung around her all the time.
That night, I decided I was sick of being an AFC.
I began working out. I stopped being at the back and call of my female friends. Some of them asked if they had done anything wrong, whether I was avoiding them. Some of them ended up sleeping with me to reassure themselves that I still like them. I started asking girls out. I found the less I cared about a girl, the more desperate she became to keep my attention. I stopped wanting that idealised relationship I dreamed of as an AFC, and found myself having more female attention and more sex then I could have ever imagined two years ago.
In some ways, I am glad that I met this girl. If it wasn't for her, I would probably still be desperately trying to appease women and wondering why they would run off with other guys who treated them badly. I learnt to stop expending so much energy on helping others at the expense of developing myself. I have learnt to draw boundaries, and look after my own interests. Remembering the time I was able to physically confront someone to defend the honour of someone I cared about, no matter how misguided, has given me a confidence that has spilled over into other aspects of my life, and allowed me to be more assertive then I was two years ago.
At the same time, I still find myself feeling anger at the way women behave. I sometimes look at the way that women will respond to my indifference and the way they talk about their platonic male friends, and wonder why they choose to be with me. I was once getting intimate with a gorgeous redhead I met at a bar, when her obviously concerned male friend came by to try to take her home. She told him to "p*ss off" and then after he left, laughed about what a "p*ssy" he was. I saw how hurt he looked as he left, and remembered all the times that I had been in the same position and found myself feeling enraged at this girl. although not enough to dissuade me from going back to her place not half an hour later ...
Anyway, that turned out to be a lot more detailed then I anticipated. Have other DJ's had similar experiences? Have there been specific incidents which made you decide that enough was enough? Do you find yourself sometimes questioning why women repond better to indifference then genuine concern? Just would like to know if my experiences are unique, or just something that every guy has to go through.
