Definition of Insanity

I just did the math. It has been 20 years since my first real kiss. I am ANCIENT. And the pattern has repeated over and over again since I was 12 years old.

That first kiss ended with the boy running. Literally running away from me. Down the stairs, out the door, and onto his bicycle. I tried to run after him. Nothing has changed since that warm autumn evening nearly 2 decades ago. The boys running away these days usually don’t have their sneakers on and their Trek bike waiting outside so their escape plan is usually a more covert affair…with the same end result. Me standing there with tears in my eyes, my hair askew, and an overwhelming urge to find them and scream WTF.

(In months to follow I ended up chasing this particular boy down the street with a knife (long story). At least that wasn’t a pattern to I chose to replicate.)

Now I have done my share of running. I usually find the architectural blueprints of any bar, restaurant, public park, stadium, house, etc that I may be trapped in with any potential suitor. How can I get out if I really want to? Really need to? Plenty of men have loved me or at least thought they did and I decided to turn away, shut down and never answer my phone again. I have done it with such cruelty that it makes me weep for my now terrible karma.

BUT I have had my heart broken in wicked, bone crunching, molecule altering ways. Sometimes I become terrified (and sometimes relieved) that it may be too late to share my life with someone. My secrets, pain and darkness are too deep to ever fully reveal to another person again. The stakes are too high to open up my heart to another person, let love in, become vulnerable only to have hot lava poured over my soul when they don’t want me anymore. I don’t know how many times my heart can re-grow from a hardened molten rock.

I keep picking the broken boys. The beautiful boys. The rich and interesting artistic boys. The fucking smart boys I can never really have. Out of my reach. Or the boys so full of pain and confusion that I want to wrap them up in my arms until they feel ok. But they never feel ok. And then I resent them. They disrupt my schedule, my routines, my life that looks extremely squared away when you are just looking in my windows. Not so much when you open the door and come in. Most don’t ever get past the entryway.

Why can’t I just fall for the nice boy? The boy who emails my mom. The boy who brings me chocolate. The boy who brings my dog toys? The boy who doesn’t care that I am a crazy, cranky bitch who tends to veer toward the negative and push them away with all my might. And they still fight for me?
I probably reject them because they love me. There must be something very, very wrong and undesirable about them to make them settle for me. So I hate them for their kindness and realness. Sad.

Or maybe I reject them because I want it all. I want the guy with the accent who reads 3 books a week. The guy with money who orders my food at the restaurant and then feeds it to me. The guy who opens up my car door. The guy who can play 5 instruments. The guy with the bed like a cloud and super white sheets. The guy who can discuss politics and religion and has traveled the world. The 6’4 guy with women hanging off him like Christmas lights. The guy with passion for his career bursting from his gorgeous, rock hard chest. Like the Dos Equis guy. The most interesting man in the world. All the rest of them are boring.

But I ain’t the most interesting girl in the world. Far from it. So I want these men because I can’t have them. Is it simple human nature or is it because they are safe? They won’t ever get past the entryway because they don't even visit my neighborhood.