I don’t use charm. Charm uses me. When I’m really into someone, I can’t stop my heart from throbbing and my cheeks from flushing. I’m suddenly self conscious in ways I never was before. I feel exposed. I’m stumbling all over myself and can’t think. All I want to do is crawl into his arms, or have wild animal sex, or know everything about him but I feel rude asking, so I putter around trying to think of something acceptable to say, and barely end up speaking at all. Some people find that helplessness adorable (like a wet mouse?), some find it oddly fascinating (like a bald peacock). If I manage to avoid conversing, I stare like a hungry tigress with my eye fixed upon the prey, studying his every nuance, seeking his tender and vulnerable spots, thirsting to pounce. The less words are involved, the more likely I am to seduce, because my body language and hunger speaks for itself, and yet makes no demands.
The rest of the time I’m comfortable in my own skin and don’t think to chase or please anyone; however I am genuinely compassionate and interested in listening to what someone has to say… if I’m not, I won’t talk to them beyond being cordial. So my honest interest in them, along with my openness and natural vigor, can seem anything from charming to clumsy. I need to practice if I am to learn how to wield my charm rather than let my curiosity, ardor, and moods wield me.