We don’t want the good guy. I mean we do, we like the idea of him, but not actually him. We want the one who is going to rip our heart out and eat it in front of us.
We want to cry and hate ourselves. Hate our bodies for wanting him, our hearts for going back and our minds for rationalizing it all. We want him because at some point we were taught it was okay; either by our father, brother, uncle, the media, by peers or him.
We were called prudes, old maids and told to lower our standards and give in.
Who were we to think we’d find a man to treat us like that, like a queen? After all he was our king...And so we go along passing up the boring boys for the exciting men. We trade in the picket fence and 2 kids for sleepless nights wondering what it was that we did wrong. Why can’t he love us, the way we love him? But I’m a sucker for punishment and on to the next one.