Lothario is a male first name, which came to connote an unscrupulous seducer of women in The Impertinent Curiosity, a story-within-the-story in Don Quixote. A lothario is someone who likes being with many women and having short sexual relationships with them. Often a man who behaves selfishly in his sexual relationships with women.
When I was in my early twenties I was with a lothario. His name was Jamie. He was a mechanic and worked on large trucks and had multiple land cruisers and had broad shoulders and was a little bit tubby, but the good kind of tubby with a shaved head and a goatee, because back then, goatees were so in. And he was good with his hands, being a mechanic and all. And not only did he fix things and get dirty, he was also a drummer in a band, a self-taught drummer and a pretty good one at that. And we loved the same kind of music and I used to go to his shows and sometimes he’d catch my eye when I was dancing below the stage and we’d share secret smiles. We had chemistry in a way I can only describe as purely guttural. I always wanted him. He always wanted me. I still want him, over a decade later. I was the MC at his wedding. Not awkward. Not awkward unless we make it awkward.
We only slept together twice, but both times were these epic unravelings of my early sexual awakening. He still lived with his mother (because lotharios can get away with shit like that, being 28 and living in the basement of their mother’s house, in the same bedroom they’ve had all their lives), so he had to sneak me downstairs and when I was lying on his mattress without a bed frame and he was coming inside me I tilted my head back and caught sight of a single streetlight glowing just outside of that basement window.
I thought I was in love. It was a chemical blindside. Resulting in severe burns.
We had sex twice and five years later he got back together with his ex-girlfriend (who was, you know, a friend of mine and who is now, you know, his wife) and then invited me over to his house one night (a new house, one that he bought), and told me he wished we could sleep together again and I hugged him and told him I couldn’t, but if he was single we sure could’ve had some fun.
He seduced me good, but I wanted it. I wanted to be seduced. I wanted to feel wanted, to flirt, to be able to feel like a sexual rock star, to feel like I drove a man crazy. I don’t think any of us really know who’s in control in those situations. Perhaps the lothario is really just a myth. Yes, he exists, but who is a seducer without those of us willing to be seduced? We aren’t at the mercy of others, only ourselves. Our biology. Our emotional state. Desire and desire again.
1. My ex was a total lothario. He just had to touch the side of my face and I would be on my knees sucking his dick.
2. I’m a lothario, what can I say? I love the ladies.
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