Carrie: I do not pick the wrong guys. They pick me.
Miranda: So what, you’re like a flystrip for dysfunctional men?
Carrie: Yeah, but one of those really pretty, floral ones.
I had completely forgotten about this one and when I read it I couldn’t stop laughing. Let’s put this in real estate terms. . . you have the move in ready houses and then you have the fixer uppers. Seeing as how I have helped a few friends over the years remodel parts of their homes, I totally love the fixer uppers. But that is in real estate.
I have “house broken” quite a few guys who have gone on to meet and marry their true love. Am I bitter? Not really. There is a reason for why things didn’t work out in the past and I am okay with that. My issue seems to stem from the fact that I see so much potential in these guys, put a lot of love, nurturing and effort into the relationship and have t-shirts as party favors.
I have a knack for picking the wrong one, ask my mother. . . while Stacey and I nod in agreement that “this one is the one” with hearts and flowers dancing around our heads her husband J is sitting back shaking his head no. At one point I just wanted to have a first date and take them over to their house and let J do his thing and with a simple gesture be told if I needed to toss this one back.
Last Friday I learned that mom was actually very sad that I had walked away from DC. But it was that defining moment for me, knowing I was going away to school and knew I wanted to be all in instead of one foot in and the other a million miles away. And while my love life hasn’t been a cakewalk, I have learned a lot about myself along the way. Something that one of these days might actually pay the bills. Or it is a pipedream, but hey, I am cool with that.
The biggest reality I am dealing with now is I am in my late thirties, have lived on my own for quite some time and probably would be panicked if I had to share my space with someone all the time. Of course, for the right one, I would deal with it; I am not that stupid.
My history with guys is long, sorted and comical at points. My friends have stories to laugh about and remind me of, least I forget about the jhorts wearing, moving way to fast guy. And I have to battle with both my heart and my brain when it comes to men. I need to be logical and realistic yet my heart wants to leap and when that happens, well, things end up kind of messy.
So yes, I am the flystrip, a pretty one though. Bring all the guys with mama issues, self centered, no drive, treats me crappy my way. I will catch them, housebreak them and release them back out into the water. One of these days, a well adjusted one may show up and I might not freak out. And yes, I have issues. But let’s not delve into that just yet.