On being able to say no

It's a difficult thing to do sometimes, saying no. Depending on the context, it can be virtually impossible.
I've always been a pleaser. I want people around me to be happy. When people around me AREN'T happy, it's a big fucking deal. It's even worse when it's my fault.
I've been trying to excise that part of myself, rather unsuccessfully. I deliberately put myself in situations where I have to chose my happiness or anothers, just to try and force the issue of choosing my own. But it too rarely happens.

So, how does this manifest itself? Well, in nights like last night.

I was out of work early, and went to Baileys to grab a beer. Trevor had spent most of the morning and afternoon pretending my vagina was a mouthy Irish boxer that needed to be jackhammered into submission, so I was a little sore. Or more than a little sore.
But I was also WAY oversexed. When that happens, my body sends out signals to all available humans within a ten foot radius that I want more sex. Regardless of the fact that I should be replete. I ALWAYS get laid more after I've already gotten laid.
Plus, I was looking fucking hot. Short little black lace skirt, bare legs, high heels, tank top and a little sweater, and "Just been fucked to within an inch of my life and am one good breeze away from another screaming orgasm" hair.

I got an email about ten minutes after I sat down at the bar from this guy on OkCupid, in town for the night and wanting to meet up for a drink. We negotiated for a bit, but I was really enjoying the sheer spontaneity of it and told him he could meet me at Baileys. Hid profile had nothing on it, not even a picture. I asked him to send me one, but he said he was out and about with no pics on his phone. But he promised I wouldn't be disappointed.

And when he walked up behind me, touched my waist and said Boo in my ear, I wasn't. He was cute. Dark, probably Italian or Spanish, classically handsome in a way that might have been boring but was saved by lovely eyes, a touch shorter than me, muscular and in shape but with a little bit of pudge at the belly... He was cute. He sat down next to me, a little too close, and proceeded to be charming. Physically flirty, lots of light touches, lingering looks that shifted away quickly when caught, laughing at everything I said. Dude was actually quite good at it. Not many men can pull off that kind of charming without also seeming douchy and insincere. Though he was definitely shallow. Deliberately so. He was very, very honest right off the bat that all he was looking for was some mostly anonymous, completely random sex. And he was very, very open about his attraction to me. I'm a little jaded about how much a man can actually be "attracted" to me when he thinks he's going to get laid. The getting laid part adds a shiny patina to everything, and I prefer a guy actually be seeing me as opposed to the possibility of fucking. But he liked what he saw.

He steered the conversation away from depth of any sort every time I tried to bring it up, though. To the point where he told me I think too much. At which point I pretty much decided I wasn't going to fuck him.
Why? I'm not exactly sure. The sex, I knew, would have been fun. A LOT of fun. He told me, when I asked him what put that gleam in his eye, that he was imagining pushing me up against the window of his hotel room, after pulling my breasts free, and fucking me while we both watched the lights of the city.
This is a very, very hot thought. I've done that before, and I really enjoyed it.
We could have had fun, simple, basic sex, and then walked away with no regrets.

So. Why did I decide no? I couldn't tell you. But I did. However, I couldn't tell him I'd made that decision. I tried. I told him that one of the things I liked about him was the knowledge that, even if tonight didn't work, he seemed like the sort to shrug, take it like a gentleman, and go find someone else to have fun with. He agreed, but then quickly asserted that this wasn't going to happen tonight, right??
And I just laughed instead of taking the opportunity to cut things off clean. Maybe I still hadn't completely made up my mind. His physical attention was hard to ignore. My body wanted him, quite a bit. But my brain didn't. And I was determined to listen to my brain this once. The thought went through my head that maybe my brain was trying to tell me something important. Classic scenario here, business man out of town on business, overly confident, overly affectionate, overly pushy... hello potential rapist. Either way, I just wanted to be strong enough to make the decision and stick to it, against my bodys urging. Maybe I'd been feeling too out of control of my body, after the workout Trevor put me through. He does like to make me lose my self.

But I wasn't having the god damn hardest time doing that. I couldn't tell him. So, I went to the bathroom, called my little brother, and told him to call me back in ten minutes and pretend to be drunk and in trouble. He, though confused, agreed.

I went back out, paid my tab, and we left. He immediately took charge, walking in the opposite direction of his hotel, but listened to me when I told him which direction we were supposed to be headed. Before we got two blocks, my brother called. And I proceeded to have a ridiculous conversation with him. Which ended with me hanging up the phone and telling this guy I had to go rescue my brother before he got arrested. At which point this guy (whose name I STILL don't know), tried to seduce me into letting my brother wait an hour. Which cemented my decision, and made me feel not nearly as bad about lying to him to get away.

BUT STILL. I should have been able to fucking do it without relying on that stupid, cowardly escape mechanism.
My difficulty with saying no really fucking bothers me. I've gotten so used to giving my body everything it wants when it comes to sex, to giving up all sense of autonomy of self when it comes to orgasm, that it's having an affect of the rest of my life. I have GOT to stop that shit.