He DOES lean great, doesn't he?
Could those eyes be any bluer??
This one wins. This is how I will always picture Jordan Catalano and what every man I have ever dated has had to live up to. Which probably has a great deal to do with why I'm single now. I love them bad boys. I do! I can't help it. Especially the charismatic ones who whisper naughty things in your ear one minute and then ignore you the next. The ones who have a tortured past who you know you, and no one else, can fix (and you can never really help them, try as you might). The ones who will never settle down and be happy in a relationship even though you try and try and hope and pray that YOU are the one who will change their mind.
I know the universal question is, why are women always attracted to bad boys? But I think the universal question is, how can you not be? I mean, sweet Jesus, what do we want more than what we can't have? Yes there are some smart women out there (I give you a shout out) who settle down with a nice guy for a happy life. I don't know why I can't do that (I've tried) but it seems I am incapable of being happy without drama (sad but true). It's like an illness I've tried to overcome, and I keep thinking it will happen when the right guy comes along; that perfect man who is a mix of angst and devotion, only to me. A brooding family man. A man who is sex obsessed but only I, and no other woman, will do.
Men can no more control if they are a bad boy than women can control if they are a "stumbler." A "stumbler," coined by my best friend, is not a ditz. A stumbler is a woman who is perfectly intelligent and capable of taking care of herself, but she has such a wide-eyed, innocent approach to the world and everything she does and everyone she meets, that she melts the hearts of men around her and they want nothing more than to catch her if she should fall. Men follow the stumbler around like puppies who are desperate for attention. This includes those bad boys too - stumblers are the only ones who can melt their hearts.
I am not a stumbler. I couldn't be if I tried - because it's not something that can be learned. It's like a natural state of being which I do not possess.
Men look at me and they think "sex" or "bitch." Which, fine, we all have our type casting (and ingenue I ain't) but until I can retrain my brain to be happy with a nice guy, I am doomed to wander the planet searching for my Jordan Catalano.
There is one thing that makes me feel better though:
I draw the line at mohawks.
Shout-out to Missed Periods and Other Grammar Scares for inspiring this post. There is no shame in loving Keanu.