Confessions Of A Maneater: Why I Would Rather Be Loved Than Love

by Gigi Engle

When it comes to dating, I can be a ruthless c*nt. I readily admit this. Saying I'm a dateable girl is like saying that Lady Gaga is tame. It would be a fallacy.

I was once with a guy I thought of as a casual hookup. He'd come running no matter when I called; he was my go-to person when I was drunk and horny at 4 am.

He lived in one of the deep, Narnia-esque parts of Brooklyn. But whenever I texted him after a long night at the clubs, he dutifully took three trains to my Upper West Side apartment.

After I got what I wanted, I'd tell him to leave. I was done. It was time for him to go. “Get out,” I said. It was as simple as that.

He'd want to stay. He'd ask me to dinner the next night. He never got either of these things.

I wasn't interested in that; I wanted nothing to do with his plans for us. But he kept coming back. Poor kid.

“You're a maneater, Gigi," he'd tell me.

Truth be told, this is basically how all of my relationships go. I give nothing and take whatever suits me. I have respect only for my desires and never for anyone else's.

You know why?

I'm constantly hungry. I'm hungry for passion. I'm hungry for raw energy. I'm hungry for electric vibrations. I'm hungry for anything new. I never feel quenched. I never feel satiated.

I'm starving, and I end up gobbling up every man who comes in contact with me.

I collect men's hearts because I'd rather be loved than love. The guys who are into me are the guys who want to “save” me.

This is interesting for a while, but eventually it bores me to tears. They give me everything; I leave them with nothing.

Yes, I am a maneater -- a bit of a succubus, if you will. I have spent my twenties straddling between my single-girl self and my relationship self. I've tried to have everything I want without compromising.

But here comes the curveball, the reason for this overdue confession. For the first time in my entire life, I'm in what I believe is a healthy, adult relationship.

As hard as I tried to fight it, Bae held on. I tried to chew him up and spit him out, but he just wasn't having it.

Weirdly enough, I respect the hell out of him for hanging in there -- even though I still have trouble understanding the appeal of that battle.

What freaks me out is that I'm actually okay with this.

I'm starting to understand that being a maneater doesn't mean not having a heart. It just means that my heart is very well-hidden and strictly guarded. We maneaters are waiting for someone worthwhile. We're waiting for the guy who satisfies us.

And maybe that's why some guys feed the hungry she-beast. They love her ferocity, and they hope that the meal they give her will be her last.

Don't worry ... I'm still a bit of a maneater. But as I make the transition into total reformation, here are my confessions.

I would rather be worshipped than called out on my sh*t.

It's been said that there is nothing sexier than being called out on your sh*t. I wholeheartedly disagree with this mentality.

On one level, I understand why it's a turn-on to be with someone who is so unafraid of you. But I've never been attracted to this.

I like to be constantly told that I am perfect and flawless. I'm happy on my pedestal. My friends -- not my lovers -- can level with me.

I want to have my cake and eat it too.

Whenever I found myself “off the market” for a hot second, I immediately acted like I had a boyfriend.

I liked keeping all the benefits of a relationship without actually giving up any of my single-girl ways.

Yes, I cheated. Yes, I ditched my boyfriends for plans that sounded more fun. I wasn't a good girlfriend, but I never felt guilty about this. I simply didn't care.

I've never understood how to thrive in a partnership.

In a relationship, I'm always the person who takes rather than gives. A committed relationship -- one in which you both give freely and equally -- has always been a foreign concept to me.

I've never been willing to compromise my wants and desires for another person. I've always put myself first, and I've been happy with that setup.

Insecure men are magnetically drawn to me.

No matter how emotionally unavailable and ambivalent I am, guys always seem to come knocking.

I'm not trying to toot my own horn and claim I'm some wild temptress, but I've always found that my lack of interest makes guys flock to me.

The guys who are interested enjoy the kind of abuse I dole out on a regular basis. When I push them away, they just hold on more tightly.

I don't value emotional connections; I value sexual connections.

I'd rather f*ck someone random than function in a relationship. I don't want to feel emotions; I want to have orgasms.

I've never been interested in a guy unless it was for sexual gratification. Maybe that's what makes me different from most girls. I'm not looking for a good boyfriend; I'm looking for a good lay. If we have great sex, you might come around again.

We can even hang out sometimes. But if you try to be my boo, I'm going to send you packing. Labels make my FOMO-self nervous.

When it comes to men, I have a very short attention span.

I get bored very easily. I lack the time and patience to deal with the work and drama that comes with being in a relationship.

I jump in with a burning, fiery passion that quickly dissolves into apathy. I start to feel drained, and I break up with guys because I no longer have the energy to devote to them.

I'm TOO aware of all the fish in the sea.

I'm always looking for the next best thing. I'm physically present in a relationship, but my eye is scanning the room, looking for something better.

I'm afraid of missing out. (See my point about FOMO above.) Being in a relationship makes you aware of how many hot guys there are out there. It's easier to string a few along and "have it all" rather than give anything up.

I'd rather not feel anything than risk feeling pain.

It stings a little bit to admit it, but I would rather break something off prematurely than risk developing feelings and getting hurt.

I've spent so much time running that I don't know if I remember how to slow down. Now that I'm in a stable relationship with a guy who (for once!) actually feels worth it, I can understand why love might sometimes be worth the possible heartbreak.

Of course, if I do end up heartbroken, I have a feeling I may be very hungry … and I'm on a diet of men. Rawr.