Having promised to always be honest with you, I’ll admit that I can be a little… superficial. I’ve chosen style over practicality (and rationalism) many times. I mean, come on- have you seen my shoes?? So its no surprise that I’m probably guilty of choosing the men I date in the same fashion. See what I did there?
I like the bad boys. The rockstars. The charismatic ones that specialize in seducing. And ultimately destroying. They’re charming, passionate, and intriguing. Their sex appeal is intoxicating. Being the object of desire to these men is like slipping into a brand new pair of Louboutin’s. Convinced I can match they’re complexity, it gives me a natural high. I’m not love stoned- I’m LUST stoned. I call these men “enigmatic”. You, on the other hand, would probably call them an asshole. I will eventually end up calling them that too. Except its usually after the storm. And just like hurricanes, they each have their own name. Some are more catastrophic than others. But the same warning signs are always there. And I’m the idiot that refuses to evacuate and later needs to be airlifted to safety. And by airlifted, I mean drink wine and vowing to never date again. Until the next one comes along. Because who knows- maybe he could really be the one??
I think I’ve been too busy treating men like accessories.
So here’s the real question- Why?
Well, before we can even try to answer that, lets get to the good stuff first. A look at a few of my recent examples. After all, if this is going to turn into a case study, you should be equipped with the proper information. That, or at the very least, it will bring you some great entertainment.
CASE STUDY #1: Hurricane Rockstar
Hands down, the Rockstar is, and always will be, my personal drug of choice. There’s something about a man with a guitar that eliminates all logic in my body and replaces it with pure stupidity. And like a true addict, I’ve dabbled in every field. From coffee house crooners, to Grammy winning A-Listers, they all leave me unable to process and react to their actions the way I would with other men. Instead, I chalk up their bad behavior to their bad boy way of life. Like being a musician of any sort gives them a get-out-of-jail-free card for being a dick. They’re not being unreasonable and selfish- they’re brooding and mysterious. They’re not broke- they’re starving artists, refusing to give up on their passion. Its endearing. Its admirable. Its sexy.
ITS ALSO A FUCKING JOKE.
And I’m proud to say my last rockstar was the one that finally landed me in rehab. For good. Unlike Amy Winehouse, I was screaming, “Yes, Lord, YASSSSSS!”. You see, I have this ridiculous habit of giving people way more credit than they deserve. I’m totally ignorant in the sense that I believe the person they are presenting to me is who they really are. And above all, I truly believe they are simply incapable of being cruel to me. Until they are. Yes, I’m that stupid. Or that hopeful. I’m not sure which yet. But I DO know this- when someone share’s your personal conversations for another woman to respond to, you need to erase that person from your life. Immediately. Because they either have the maturity of a 13 year old, the respect of a 5 star douchebag, or severe self-esteem issues. Because nothing remains more true than this- hurt people hurt people. All it takes is one very harsh look at reality, and an intelligent, handsome rockstar morphs instantly into someone who probably doesn’t care much about anyone but himself. And while I may be clueless with men, I am ON POINT with my standards in love.
With the quality of people I want in my life.
And, above all, the respect I deserve.
So in conclusion, someone so unhappy with their own life has absolutely no place in mine, guitar or not. Case closed.
CASE STUDY #2: Hurricane Full of Shit
I’m ashamed to even be talking about this one. Really. And I’m inviting any of you to come and slap me for even entertaining this tool as long as I did. And here, gentlemen, is where I will dispense the greatest piece of dating advice a girl can offer-
Never, EVER set the standard of the first date higher than what you plan to maintain after.
Case in point: Yacht Boy (as I shall refer to him) had pursued me for a while. Seeing him as wholesome and serious, I of course dodged every attempt like Mayweather in the ring. But he never quit. And as fate would have it, I ran into him one night. We ended up talking- really talking. And much to my surprise, we had a lot in common. It was then that I started to realize that maybe all the things about him I had initially run from were exactly what I needed. He was going to be out of town for a while, but we agreed to get together as soon as he got back. Of course, during his time away, we texted and shared pictures. Not of our bodies, but of our actual lives. Things that were important. It was…. nice.
We made plans for the day he returned home. Yep, you read that right. I wont lie- it felt incredibly good to have someone that was so excited to see me. He literally was driving, across states, to take me out. Understandably, he ended up running a little late. Given the effort, I didn’t mind one bit. When he picked me up (Yes, you also read THAT right- picked me up) he apologized, explaining that upon his arrival home, he was greeted to absolutely no power at his place. Wanting to keep his plans with me, he simply showered (a very cold shower in a very dark bathroom) and was out the door. Everything else he would deal with later. Whoa. Wait. Say what?? I’ve had to ask guys to change into actual jeans just to go out, because no, joggers are not acceptable date attire. And this guy risked hypothermia for me? And think about shaving- I knick myself just looking at a razor, let alone sliding it along my body in the dark. So I’m thinking this guy is even an absolute gentlemen, or a total fucking idiot.
Idiot would eventually win. It always does.
So as you probably guessed, we had a great date. So much so it led to a second date. At his place. With power, of course. Wanting to show off his culinary skills, he cooked a full course dinner and even made homemade ice cream for me. I know, I know- its almost too good. We would see each other a few more times after that, but something started to happen. Or, everything started to happen. To him. It seemed like making plans were impossible because he was sick. Or going out of the country. Or out of state. Or a family member had died. Or multiple. No really. Like, 2 in one week, I believe? Now, I might be a total asshole for saying this, but I call Bullshit. You’re either a terrible liar, or the unluckiest person around. Either way, its safe to say that you just got filed back into my “No Thank You” file. But EVERY FREAKIN TIME I shut that damn thing, he would come along, and say something to get my attention. Again. He knew how to keep me at just the right distance to string me along. And so the cycle began. He would set something up. I would believe him. Because he couldn’t possibly do it again. And then HE WOULD DO IT AGAIN. In fact, at the end, I think the only real reason I would even agree to see him was just to prove myself right about him. That he was a liar. And finally I summoned the courage to point out to him what I had already accepted. I reminded him of his effort on our first date. That he had set his own standard when it came to me. That he had kept his word and put me first when we set plans. And that he had failed miserably in ever reaching it again.
And I don’t date failures.
Bye, Felicia. Another case closed.
CASE STUDY #3: Hurricane HeadCase
I wont go into too much detail with this guy. Because unlike the others, this one actually hurt me. The others were comical (after the fact) and were certainly valuable lessons. But this one- I cant really explain what happened. Or why. Other than to say that some people are just bad. And probably have bigger issues going on in their lives than we will ever understand. You see, this was the guy that made the effort. And then went beyond it. When we talked, he didn’t just listen to me- he took notes. And would surprise me with things later. Like my favorite movie. Or a pillow I saw in a shop when we were out on a casual stroll. When I was sick, he made hour long trips just to bring me soup and ice cream- only to then snuggle me, letting me fall asleep on his lap. When it got too late, he would take me to bed, and would leave only after I had fallen asleep. One of the last times I saw him, we watched the sunset at the beach and downloaded stargazing aps. We spent the rest of the night talking about like and looking at constellations, among a few other late night beach activities. It was also the night he told me how he “really, really, really, really, really, really wanted this to work”. And I did too. No question about it. He told me what he needed from me, and I agreed.
And then he disappeared.
He went total ghost. It was, quite honestly, one of the most indescribable feelings to experience. A little anger, a little disbelief, a little sadness. All mixed with confusion. And hurt. It was a definitive moment where I had opened myself up. Became a little vulnerable. And let the walls down just a bit. And got smacked down hard. And all because I actually believed him. And started to explore my feelings towards him. And why wouldn’t I?
Easy- because I’m a normal, compassionate, loving human being. I don’t promise rose gardens to unsuspecting victims. I don’t stir up feelings in individuals just to stroke my own ego. And I certainly do not intentionally hurt others just to fill some void in my life. Maybe he was unhappy, and I was a temporary cure. When his ego was sufficiently inflated, there was no longer room for me. I’m sure whatever the reason was, it was justifiable to him. Otherwise, I believe I would have gotten an “I’m sorry” at one point. But like most sociopaths, I know now that day will never come.
So as much as I would like to blame all these guys, the obvious similarity they all have…. is me. So it brings me to my original question- do I choose these men because I truly see them as potential partners. Or are they all just glittery accessories, comfortable in the sense that I already have a good idea how it will end. And therefore, I never have to get too invested. I never need to get to a point where I can see them as a Potential Maybe, instead of a Inevitable Storm.
Personally, I think in the end, I’m still hoping for the Potential Maybe, that’s just lost in the Inevitable Storm. The storms we as females all have to go through. Because like a good margarita, I doubt we would appreciate the sweet nearly as much without the sour.