I think I’m allergic to good men. Okay, a doctor has not and may not be able to diagnose me with this condition, but its how I feel. Even though I am on a self-imposed break from all things men, it doesn’t help that men are still coming around as if I have an “Open For Business” sign plastered on my head. And it is not just any kind of men who are knocking on my proverbial glass door — it’s the good guys.
Before I continue with my assessment, it’s best that I define just exactly what constitutes a good guy for me. He is the kind who tends to be shy, quiet, and a bit reserved. He would walk to the ends of the Earth for you, asking nothing in return for his sojourn. Even if you would not be able to reciprocate his sentiments, he would not verbally push you on it — he’d just try harder to win you over. He’s the kind of guy who’s nature doesn’t lend itself to the abandonment of passion and spontaneity. In other words, he’s the guy your mother would love for you to bring home; the kind of fellow whose actions you can predict miles before he even thinks of them himself.
So yes, I suppose the way Picasso went through his Blue phase I am now going through my good guy phase. If it sounds as if I am lamenting this, it’s because I am. No, I am not the kind of girl who looks for “bad boys,” the Stevie-J type who needs intense rehabilitation. But, there are traits that I need in my men such as lightheartedness and an unconstrained, natural easiness about themselves that most good guys I have met do not embody.
Since they are the ones who are paying me mind these days, I have tried to give them a chance — to no avail. Their sweetness is endearing. The fact that they seem genuinely interested in my work is enough to make me seek a second date out of curiosity. But, as much as I may try, I just can’t bring myself to liking them. I get bored easily, and they usually have a monotony that leaves me drowsy. We’ve heard the cliche saying, “Like those who like you”….yeah, it ain’t that easy when spending time with them makes you feel like a toddler in church.
There is a great part of me that wishes the storied good guy was my type, and I am guessing that it is coming from guilt more than anything else. It’s hard not to kick yourself in the shins when a great guy is doing everything to please you, and you’re just wishing they’d move on to the next woman. I suppose that it is true that just because a man is good, doesn’t mean he is good for you. And no, I do not generally believe that good guys finish last — but around these parts, that just may be the sign I need to put up to leave the phase I am currently in.
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