Why do good girls like bad boys?
Many things don’t go together well. If you’ve just brushed your teeth and you’re craving orange juice, don’t do it or you’re about to prove my point. So, why must we force together things that are best left apart? Toddlers learn quickly that square pegs don’t fit in round holes, but adults keep forcing it instead of finding a fit.
Take the case of the good girl and the bad boy. They don’t fit except for the twenty minutes or so it takes them to pound pelvises. They say a man wants his woman to be a princess in the street and a ‘ho in the bedroom. Well, it seems a woman wants her man to be a personal assistant in the street and a lizard-tongued, tatted-up scruffball with a huge, numb penis in the bedroom.
Do I sound bitter?
If I hear one more woman tell me how nice I am, I’m shaving my head and buying a Harley. Her statement is a death knell. I realize the woman complimenting me has slotted me securely in the friend-I’ll-never-fuck column and that sucks for me. Meanwhile, she’ll answer dickhead’s text (with silly abbreviations, misspellings, and grammatical errors), she’ll rendezvous with his drunk ass, and believe him when he promises to pull out. Tomorrow, her friend (moi), will get the call begging me to join her for breakfast because she’s having a meltdown along with her eggs and the morning-after pill.
“What’s shakin’, sugarbacon?”
“I slept with Tony again last night.”
“What? I thought you said you were over him.”
“I am now. I’ll never do it again.”
“You said that too.”
“But, this time I mean it.”
“Heard that before as well.”
“He has this uncanny ability to sense when I’m vulnerable and that’s when he strikes. I can’t fight it.”
“Is his manhood so marvelous?”
“Well … it’s not just that.”
“He’s different. He takes control and ravages me. I can tell he’s really into it when we’re together and, sure, he’s a skilled lover. He’s emotional and savage.”
“But, once the sex towel comes out I bet he loses his charm.”
“He has no charm. You have charm.”
“… and, unfortunately, no nookiepuss to go with my manners.”
“Aw, you’ll find a nice girl.”
“No, I won’t. You know why?”
“Because you nice girls want bad boys. I’ll hold your door, pull out your chair, order a fine bottle of wine, and eventually find text messages you’re sending him about wanting to have sex with him for the last time again.”
“I would never …”
“You just did!”
“But, it’s different. I don’t have a serious boyfriend.”
“I bet if I ask the guy you’re dating, he’ll disagree.”
“I know. Damn it! It was foolish. You’re right. [Insert friend hug.] See? This is why I love you so much. You’re such a good friend who listens and knows how to talk sense into me. What would I do without you?”
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