I have to say, throughout most of my adult life, I have had
this unnecessary attraction to bad boys. Maybe it’s because I have always been
so primarily good and wholesome; I’ve never smoked a cigarette or gotten a
speeding ticket. I’ve never been in a fight or any sort of legal trouble, aside
from credit card debt. I shy away from conflict for the most part and I like to
keep people happy. (I would also like to keep all my teeth.) Maybe with all
this white milk sense of living comes the propensity to get infatuated with the
dark side.
I like men who can’t figure themselves out, the ones that
drown their sorrows in hard liquor and pirate fights. If I were still single, I
would be chasing the likes of Don Draper (Mad
Men), Ron Swanson (Parks & Rec),
Charles Vane (Black Sails), and
Sterling Archer (Archer). They’re
nearly unapproachable and violent, they’ve been in various brands of trouble,
and are most likely running from their sordid pasts. But they love like
animals: possessive, archaic and lascivious. Sometimes it can be really
exciting to ride in the fast lane.
But other times, I think it’s absolutely ludicrous. Maybe
this is because I’ve got the best of both worlds in my personal life. I’ve
married a reformed bad boy who has primarily curbed his behavior. He does,
however, have this adorable little wild streak that he lets run rampant every
now and then. Like every time we drive. (He has a bit of a road rage problem…)
But he’s a safe person to spend my life with and he keeps out of trouble. For
the most part.
The point is that the Bad Boy/Mr. Wrong thing is cute, but
only for a few minutes. It’s a novelty and it gets old. You can’t marry Charles
Vane. Just imagine if someone cut that
man off in traffic.
You’re not good at
relationships because you don’t value them. –Roger Sterling, Mad Men
I have this friend who is genuinely one of the most together
women I have ever met. She pays all of her bills way before they’re due, she
has a good job with benefits, and an awesome personality. I always saw her as
more of a grown-up even though we’re the same age. She always carries a
checkbook, she always smells amazing, and she is always very put together. She
is sharp, pristine, and eloquent.
One of the things that I have always absolutely loved about
her is her natural inclination to just be an amazing girlfriend. She is one of
those girls that is insanely generous and selfless with her boyfriends. When
they’re down, she picks them up and dusts them off. When they’re in trouble,
she bails them out and buys them comfort food. She is one of those women that
is just naturally maternal with most people, but more especially with those
that she really cares about.
It’s like the more screwed up they were, the more she pushed
for it to work. Those men would sit around playing their PS3’s all day and she would
maintain this incessantly positive attitude towards their probably future. And
then there’s me, the woman actually losing it if my husband loads the
dishwasher incorrectly. (No, but seriously. That is so goddamn annoying. In my
defense, you fit MORE in the dishwasher if it’s loaded PROPERLY. It’s all about
going green.)
Anyway, she was dating this guy who literally should have
been named Mr. Wrong. He lived on a
diet of cigarettes, weed, and various 7/11 snacks. He was lazy, loud and vulgar
and despite all that charm, could never seem to plan a proper date for the two
of them. He had a very limited sense of humor and was completely satisfied with
being financially dependent upon her. In fact, he used to always brag about how
he could park his work truck in the woods and smoke weed for like, four hours
of his shift.
On top of all of these absolutely delightful attributes, he
was unkind to her and a bit possessive. I remember so vividly that he used to
do this weird thing when he called her. There could be no background noise; he
had to be able to hear a pin drop when he spoke to her, otherwise he went
insane. I had kind of assumed that it was his way of keeping tabs on her. (Not
that he would ever have to because she simply wasn’t that kind of girl. We are
talking about an incredibly classy lady here.)
There was a brief stint during our friendship where I was
careless. Those times he would call her in my presence were so nerve-wracking.
I literally had to sit there in silence so as not to cause problems between
them. She would sit there, beautiful and poised as ever, just willing the phone
call to go smoothly until she could hang up, turn to me and say, “I’m sorry.
What were you saying before he called?” And to be honest, I understood it because
that woman is an absolute angel to this day. She is quite possibly the most well-behaved,
well-intended woman that I personally have ever encountered. She treats the men
in her life like some mixture of Eddie Cibrian and Henry the XIII.
Psychopaths… people
who know the differences between right and wrong, but don’t give a shit. That’s
what most of my characters are like. –Elmore Leonard
I have this other girlfriend who is petite and adorable. She’s
got this feisty little firecracker thing going and she isn’t afraid to be
blunt. At first, it used to hurt my feelings because as we all know, I’m super sensitive. But then I grew to
appreciate it because the majority of what she says is pretty legitimate and
justified.
But for all her saltiness, she was ever-faithful,
supportive, and utterly obsessed with whatever man she was dating, even when
they didn’t necessarily deserve it. She would take on the role of caregiver and
made it her life’s work to treat them like royalty. And to be honest, that used
to confuse me because in every other aspect of her life, she was no-nonsense.
She wouldn’t take lip from anyone but her boyfriends were always able to
somehow pull the wool over her eyes.
She was dating one man, who I honestly believed, was trying
to take her for a long walk off a short pier. (Wait a minute, I should clarify:
I don’t think he was some malicious individual who actually wanted to murder
her. That’s just an expression my Italian family always used to use to describe
being taken advantage of. And also murdered…) But I digress.
He was basically dating two women but he was really shoddy
about it. Like, he wasn’t even the slightest bit careful. Maybe it was like he
didn’t care about whether or not he got caught.
It was sort of like a game on his end, bouncing around from
one girl to the other, like a drunken tennis match. And sadly, for both girls
involved, they loved him unconditionally. I couldn’t really understand it but
again, I like laid back brutes that brew their own lager. Not pretty boys in
Dickie Dollar Scholar clothes.
And this two-timing, double-dealing behavior went on for
something like actual years. Like seriously, years. I only know bits and pieces
of the story but each time they would rekindle their semi-chaotic relationship,
she would tell me plainly, “The heart wants what it wants.” She didn’t make
excuses for him, she didn’t defend their insane relationship, and she didn’t
broadcast all the details unless I asked for them. It just was what it was.
The reality is that he’s a bad boy and she loved him. And
she would admit that right to your face.
Moral of the Crazy: I
hate to group the entire female population into one big, terribly unfair
stereotype but there is just something inherently appealing about the proverbial
bad boy. And if you claim to be immune to his charms, you are lying to
yourself! These various labels exist for a reason, friends. I could literally
fill an actual book with stories of the ever elusive and cavalier Mr. Wrong but
you’ve all got lives to lead and DVR’s to catch up on. (Has anyone seen Lucifer by the way? Talk about a yummy
bad boy? Sheesh.) So I’m going to
provide a little entertaining short cut for you:
Taylor. Goddamn
Swift.
I would like to say that it’s more exciting than scary, that
it’s more sensual than exhausting. I would like to say that bad boys can be
tamed, that Mr. Wrong can be molded into someone moderately sensitive who
brings you flowers every Saturday. And to be fair, it could be possible.
Stranger things have happened.
In fact, I happen to know where this instance took place: My
aunt’s husband (he’s my “uncle” because they’ve been married since before I was
born) was something of a bad boy in his youth. But I have never seen anyone as
gentle with another person as he is with her. He still has his boat, still
flies his plane, and still makes the majority of the decisions but she is the queen. She tamed the beast.
And that flowers every Saturday thing? That man doesn’t miss a Saturday. Ever.
A bad man is the sort
who weeps every time he speaks of a good woman. –H.L. Mencken
I guess it’s just that no one is really that bad. You can only hold the Mr. Wrong title for so long before
it gets boring and it won’t keep you warm at night. The reality is that while he
may be a “bad boy”, if you hold the key to his heart, you’re the one with the real
power. It’s like Davy Jones and Calypso. He was this dreaded, scary pirate (but
seriously, what is my obsession with pirates?!) with wavy tentacles on his face
and coal in his heart until you mention his girl. Then he turns into the
octopus version of Drake.
I always tease my husband that he is quite possibly one of
the meanest individuals I have ever met. He has terrible road rage, little
patience for most people, and a tendency to be something of a hot head when
people push his buttons. But with me, I
am the queen. He doesn’t even raise his voice when I lecture him about not
following the grocery list accurately (which is always).
He’s bad, angry and literally yells, “GO AWAY!” when Jehovah’s
witnesses come to our door. But despite that chronic propensity to be grumpy
and just downright miserable, he loves me and takes care of me. He bottles up
all of his sweetness and reserves it all for me. It’s a daily reminder of my
importance to him.
Look, I’m not going to sit here and pretend like the average
Mr. Wrong is a terrible life decision filled with pain and regret. I understand
the attraction, friends. What’s not to love about a man who drives a stick
shift, shoots a gun, and can’t verbalize his feelings? All I’m saying is with you, it should be different. Like Danny
and Sandy, Charles and Eleanor, Will and Alicia. Those men may be bad but if
they’re good at loving you, that’s all that matters.
Pay no attention to
toxic words. What people say is often a reflection of themselves, not you. –Christian
Baloga
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