Ever since I turned 16, I've been "inspiring" people (primarily men) to get involved with theater again, to write the great american musical, to perform that song, to jump back into theater. I never do anything. It seems like I'm always just perfectly friendly, and open, but it never fails. There's always SOME guy who takes a special interest in me, and I become their muse.
It's never been sexual in nature. Never overtly so, at least. Once of twice I've had my suspicions that there's a little more that artistic inspiration involved, but it's so innocent.
The most recent case is this guy I JUST started working with. He was hired several weeks ago, and I've been helping out the new people alot- and I've been trying to be friendly- get to knwo everyone a little bit. So this guy has a history of performance in common with me- we were exchanging stories lastweek about chasing the theater, anecdotes about backstage mis-haps, I told him about a friend of mine (incidentally, someone else who has used me as his *muse* several times) Who has had 3 of his scripts published, performed, and taken in income, and I offered to put the fellow I work with in touch with my friend.
This morning, the guy work with started exhanging little friendly office-chum e-mails, and suddenly he tells me that I've inspired him to finish his 3/4ths of the way done script, and he would VERY much like me to play the lead. I'm flattered, but holy crap! This happens CONSTANTLY.
I think I'm cute, but I wasn't blessed with other-worldly beauty. I'm talented, but the guy has only heard me sing under my breath at me desk. I asked him why he thought I would be perfect, and he said "I love your speaking voice, and something about your attitude and countenance strikes me as [character he's developed]'s exact style. Besides, you belong on the stage. Not behind a desk".
I'm flattered, really...but I don't know how to feel about this. Should I think nothing of it and merely take it as a compliment to my personality? Should I be worried that I'm always the muse, and never the author? or, is there something more sinister at work? Could I be sub-consiously flirting? Is this a common ploy among men to shy to suggest something more illicit?