So an old friend contacted me out of the blue recently, several years after leaving me the emotional equivalent of a beached whale, flopping out of my element, gasping for air, frantic that I’d not find sanctuary before I expired. (Okay, it wasn’t quite that dramatic). This “friend” had been something more at the time, and then the drama started. Not quick enough – or smart enough – to hightail it, I ended up being badly burned. Emotionally speaking.
Anyway. Apparently, he’s desperate to talk to someone. – Or so he says. Manipulative much? – And clearly, I’m the current favorite. I know of at least one other person he’s used as “confessor.” Why not call that other person? Or better yet, call God. Let Him deal with the baggage. I haven’t decided yet whether I’m going to give him another chance as a friend. Maybe at arm’s length. He pretty much burned the bridge for anything else and would have to perform AMAZING feats of daring do to get back into my good graces enough to rank above friendship status again.
What I want to know is why I seem to be a magnet for damaged guys. Not one of those little, dull magnets that everything falls off of within a day or two. No. I’m talking about one of those huge, good-as-new, shiny magnets. The kind you have to place inside a superconductor box inside freezing cold temps to break its hold on metal objects. One guy was abused as a child – actually, more than one of them was, but I digress – another suffered a baseball bat beating by friends of a psycho ex-girlfriend, another discovered his weakness for “recreational” drugs and had his stomach pumped at least once. And let’s not forget the spoiled, spiteful young man who was an early object of my affections. I regret to say that I allowed him to systematically tear my self-image & esteem to shreds. All of them in their own way drained me to the point of depression. I guess we’re all a little damaged in some way, but it’d be nice to once in a while attract the attentions of a guy who’s risen from the ashes of abuse or psycho girlfriends or whatever else he’s been addicted to and allowed it to make him stronger as a man, rather than continually riding the ferris wheel of self-pity, recidivism and emotional unavailability.
Here’s my order: I’ll take one tall, relatively slender, firmly heterosexual caucasian (ethnicity is negotiable for the right man) male please, heavy on the positive work ethics, a generous helping of morality, a little of the bad boy/devil-may-care personality, a bountiful helping of self-respect and respect for others. He must also be intelligent and have at least a level of common sense comparable to mine (why would I want a man who I can easily manipulate and out-conversate??). A college degree in something useful would be nice. Ambition, a well-paying steady job; likes to travel (outside the USA as well as in), not more than 7 years younger or 10- 15 years older than me. And yes, must be of the same faith as me. There are a few more…um…intimate details, but as this is a family friendly blog, those particular details will be revealed only to the applicant(s) in question. : – )
Am I asking for too much, do you think? I know they’re out there somewhere. I’ve met them. Unfortunately, most of them are married! I don’t want perfection, but a girl’s gotta have SOME standards.
Pen and Keys 