“You’re so hot.” I’ve heard that a million times in my life. But deep down, I wonder if that’s all I am? I mean, of course there is so much more, but is it really?

I think having someone like you is so nice. Someone telling you how beautiful your tits are. Someone telling you to sit on their face. Someone telling you that they can’t stop thinking about you. Someone telling you how good your pussy is.

But do they ever really care who I am behind all that?

I like being desired. I like feeling sexy. I like flirting. I like hearing someone tell me they want me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. But I think I’ve reached a point where being desired by itself doesn’t really impress me anymore.

Because okay, you want me. Now what?

Do you like talking to me when sex isn’t involved? Do you remember the random thing I told you three weeks ago? Do you actually wonder how my day went? Do you know when something is wrong with me even when I’m saying I’m fine?

Do you like me when I’m not being sexy? When I’m indecisive and annoying and overthinking something completely stupid? When I’m talking too much? When I’m quiet?

Are they going to make an effort other than sexual texting? Are they going to take some action, or are they just going to stay behind that phone?

Are they going to tell me ten reasons why they like me that have nothing to do with my boobs or my body? Do they even know enough about me to come up with ten?

I don’t know. Sometimes I just want someone to really show me how much they like me, not just say the words. I can say any fucking thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. And am I going to trust someone just because they say so? Do something about it.

Maybe that’s what I want more than anything. Not someone who constantly tells me they like me, but someone who remembers. Someone who notices. Someone who makes time. Someone who makes me think, Oh, you actually fucking listen to me.

Maybe that’s the thing. Attention is so fucking easy. You can text me that you miss me. You can tell me you’ve been thinking about me all day. You can tell me how much you want me.

Okay? And? None of those things cost you anything. I think I’m at the point where I want effort more than attention. If you miss me, make a plan to see me. If you care about my day, ask me about it. If you like me, fucking act like you like me.

Of course I love sex and talk about sex all the time, and yeah, that might be one of the reasons some guys like me. But sometimes I just wish they liked me because of my mind or my personality. And yes, I think they do, but if I didn’t lure them in with my boobs first, would they still want me?

And I know that’s kind of stupid because I’m the one doing it. I’m the one making sexual jokes. I’m the one flirting. I’m the one who likes being looked at and feeling hot.

I’m not going to suddenly stop doing all that just to test if someone can like my personality. That’s also part of me. I don’t want someone to like me despite that part of me either.

I want them to like that part and everything else that comes with it.

I don’t want to choose between being sexual and being taken seriously. I don’t want someone to look past my sexuality to find the “real me,” because that is also the real me. I just don’t want it to be the only part of me they bother getting to know.

Like, yes, look at my boobs. I put them there for a reason. But can you also listen when I fucking talk?

But then I also have to ask myself if I even let people know me. Because being sexy is easy for me. Flirting is easy. Making everything into a dirty joke is easy.

Maybe sometimes it’s actually easier than sitting there and telling someone something real about myself. Maybe I’m complaining that people only see one part of me while also handing them that part first because it’s the easiest part for me to show.

Maybe I like being desired because being desired is easy to understand. There’s not much to question. You think I’m hot? Cool. I know what to do with that information.

But someone actually trying to know me? Asking me questions I don’t know how to answer? Remembering things I forgot I even told them? Actually paying attention to me?

Maybe that scares me a little more than I want to admit.

Because then I have to actually let them see me. Not the sexy me. Not the funny me. Not the version of me that knows exactly what to say. Just me. And what if they get to know all of that and then decide they don’t like me? Maybe being wanted is easier because there’s less to lose.

Fuck. Maybe I’m part of the problem too.

But I also don’t think that means I should have to become less sexual just so someone takes the time to know me. Maybe I just need someone curious enough to keep looking.

I want love, but sometimes I just wanna sit on someone’s face for a little bit and go on with my life. Why can’t I have both? Why does it feel so hard for me but not for other people to find that?

I see people finding someone who wants them and actually likes them at the same time. Someone who thinks they’re hot but also thinks the stupid little things they do are cute. Someone who wants to fuck them but also wants to hear about their day.

Someone who looks at them like they’re sexy and adorable at the same time. So obviously it exists. I know it does. I just don’t know why it feels so fucking difficult for me to find.

And maybe I’m being dramatic. Maybe I’m too picky. Maybe I get bored too easily. Maybe I make it easier for people to desire me than to actually know me. I don’t fucking know. There are probably a million explanations and I’ll overthink every single one of them.

But I don’t think I’m asking for something impossible. I don’t want to choose between someone who desires me and someone who adores me. I want someone who can look at me and think I’m hot as fuck and still find me cute when I’m doing something stupid.

I want to be wanted without wondering if that’s the only reason they’re still around.

Maybe I’m just cursed to have the sexiest boobs and no one to look at me like I’m the cutest fucking thing they’ve ever seen.