I’ve decided I’m doomed to idiocy, especially when it comes to men.
Sit me down with a nice, clean-cut, attentive, conservative guy and I run like the wind. RUN. Good guys scare me to death. But put me in a room full of wild, loud, players and it’s like I come alive.
Why would I rather risk that a bad boy might actually be sweet, rather than risk that a nice guy might turn out to be boring? Does that make sense (theoretically or literally)? I’d rather “reform” than “be reformed.”
Example: I went on a blind date with a very nice, handsome, stable, family-kinda-guy on Sunday. Very nice, quiet, interesting…we had lunch with his brother’s family and went to the zoo. Very nice. *yawn*
Monday night, I went to a rock concert where Owen Thomas, lead singer of the Elms, smiled at me. Next thing I know, around 4 a.m. Tuesday, I dream that we’re sitting under my kitchen table (like Frances) – KISSING. I don’t even necessarily find the long-haired Mr. Thomas to be my type of attractive (he actually sort of reminds me of Christopher Walken) – but I think this says something very profound about my subconscious mind. I go for “bad boys” – musicians, athletes, race car drivers, bartenders…
It’s really frustrating to feel like I’ll never get excited about someone who’s worth getting good and giggly over. Not to berate Owen Thomas, mind you. Oh, geez. Anyway, I just want to apologize to the nice guys of the world… I wish I felt differently.
What it comes down to for me these days is simply this: for the first time ever, I’m happier being single and not having to worry about getting hurt (thus the running away) – however, it’s a double-edged sword, because, being human, I do get lonely for companionship, attention, affection, etc. That’s where the “bad boys” come in – during my weak moments of “oh, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to hang out with him for a while…” I don’t know. It’s a mess. I’m a mess. And part of it makes me wonder if courtship would have cured all this in the first place… but maybe that wasn’t where God wanted me to be?
Now a Xanga poll (even though I think I know what you’ll say): I just found out ex-Tom is moving to Spain forevermore. I’m floored. We haven’t spoken since January, and the last conversation was not a happy one. But part of me wants closure – part of me wants to dig up his phone number and try to see him, just so I can finally say GOODBYE. I thought I’d get to do that this year when I bump into him before the Festival, by then looking thin and fit and blonde and gorgeous… now everything has changed. Still, I know trying to do this might be a really bad idea. I just can’t decide… this stuff just tears me up all over the place. Guys – please – tell me what to do. I don’t want to be a stalker and I’ve been good up until now.
If I thought he was reading this, or if I did get to say goodbye, I’d just sincerely wish him my best. I’d say I’m sorry about the bad stuff that happened between us. And I’d thank him for the good. And then I’d say goodbye.
CARS is very good, by the way – go see it next weekend, for sure!