Wednesday, July 11, 2012

tall dark strangers, substance abuse.

Today I realised that I was wrong about you. I predicted that you’d always want a girl with a big personality, a girl who can stand up for herself. In truth, I wasn’t that person when we first met, but I became that person and it makes perfect sense to me now why there is no longer any chemistry between us. I am not who you want me to be and you are not who I want you to be. I thought I was the archetypical girlfriend for you but really, I just grew into this skin. I used to be sad and meek and insecure and that was what you wanted – for whatever reasons – and that’s what you want now. The quiet ones. The ones hiding in the background. I guess I was lucky back then but now I’m different. Or you’re different. No, you’re the same. Still full of cynicism. I used to always think this quote applied to us: “Beneath every cynic there lies a romantic, and probably an injured one.” That was us. I was the injured romantic. I’m not anymore. And you are more than welcome to your sad, weedy girlfriends. Meanwhile, I am more than content hanging out with my flaming homosexual friends. I think their energy suits me better than you ever did.

Or maybe I’m being too sentimental too late? Not that any of this matters. I mean, my mind just wanders and I draw conclusions five years later.

I’m not sure what my type of boy is. My friend Danny says that I am a sucker for a lost cause and that’s certainly true. Tortured soul? Mysterious? Problems with alcohol/drugs? Well, come on over! I’m very drawn to troubled boys, or boys who appear to be troubled. But the mystery! The mystery just kills me. I find nothing more intriguing and attractive than knowing absolutely nothing about a boy, seeing him around, occasionally hearing him speak. Tall dark stranger. Dark hair, a beard? Dressed like a homeless person? Oh God. I’m yours. (In fact, the last couple of boys I’ve fancied have all met this criteria.)

But how does one capture such a dishevelled boy? I’ve toyed with the idea of dressing in a more scruffy manner than I usually would, maybe wearing trousers too short. Or proffering some of my anti-depressants in welcome. Mi casa es tu casa. You know. Alas, I have yet to get my hands on a badly groomed young man. How sad.

2 comments:

  1. I think the same thing can be found on buses. The sexual chemistry between you and a stranger on a bus is just gross. And it probably comes from that mystery you were talking about. You know absolutely nothing about this person. But why is he travelling the same direction as you? What are his intentions?

    Or maybe it's because it's a small space packed full of people and I'm horny most of the time.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I love that the sexual chemistry is 'gross,' haha. You're gross, Niall. You horndog. <3

      Delete

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