Bad Boys

Women love bad boys and men love bad girls. How could we not? They make us feel insecure and who doesn’t want to feel like shit? Apparently, we’re all up to feeling like shit at the hands of the bad person at least once in our life. Because there’s a mystery to it. “What is it about his person that gives them the power to not love me?” We’ve all asked it, and the answer is simple: nothing. There is nothing about that person. Nothing at all.

I used to be a bad boy. Not because I’m a stud that has a lot going for him. It’s not about that. I know I’m mostly average. But being a bad boy doesn’t require great looks, wealth or nature-born-talents. These things can enhance the bad boy image, but they’re not requirements. I represent a reformed bad person. Once I lost it, I found out that there was nothing behind door number one; there was nothing behind me. Here’s what’s left, a step by step time-line of a bad boy’s fall from grace.

Step 1 - Heaven

I used you as a gateway to heaven. Your hands, your mouth, your concealed areas. Anything I could get inside of. That rush of sex; the thrill of the chase. It made me feel something. But you weren’t allowed to get used to it. Before there was a chance to lift the curtain, I was gone. And at the time, I really lost interest. I was no longer attracted to you. You weren’t who I thought you were. In my imagination, I painted a picture. Once I knew you, how could I stick around? You’re just a human. You’re not a fairy princess. It wasn’t enough for you to be human, and because of that, I moved on.

Step 2 - Hell

I barely answered your calls. It was a chore to call you back. When I did, you knew I wanted nothing to do with that call. My tone. It’s all in the tone. It’s screaming “I AM SO BORED OF KNOWING YOU!” I broke plans, lied, did shady things. How could I not? If I want nothing to do with you than the answer must still be out there. I was going to do anything to answer it. You’re just reassuring me that I’m lovable by trying so hard. I appreciate it in retrospect, I really do. But I couldn’t feel anything real then.

Step 3 - Wavering Faith

Your successor wasn’t a fairy princess either. And times are tough. I’m experiencing a drought; a downturn in the fairy princess market. I need a place to call base. Somewhere I can run to and be safe. A place where I can hide. You’re still here. “Maybe she was the one” turns into the phone call that once again spins a broken record. This is our second go-at-it. But you’re a good girl, so this is my last chance. I haven’t realized this yet and firmly believe that repeating steps 1 through 3 is always an option. Little did I know, the good girls grow up.

* The time it takes to get to step 4 varies in length depending on the bad boy’s tolerance for pain and willingness to create a new pool of fairies.

Step 4 - The Great Fairy Depression

I’ve used all of my tokens. If the little black book existed, it was throughly utilized during the Great Fairy Depression. I panicked. Too many former-fairy-potentials were no longer available. Married, engaged, disinterested, moved on, moved away. Desperation sets in and the dominos began to fall. And just before I die, a new fairy showed up. Finally, the Fairy Godmother! She’s the one. She has to be because there’s no one left.

Step 5 - The Fairy Godmother’s Vengeance

I’m exposed. The panic had already set in and wasn’t leaving. It’s like a tar that has no effective scrubbing agent. I wore it everyday. Jealousy, desperation, insecurity. All things I couldn’t feel before now covered my entire self like I took a bath in shit. She smells the shit. She’s a shark fairy and eats me entirely. And I die. She was the end of what I knew of myself, which was nothing to begin with.

Step 6 - Death

I’m dead. I can’t revive myself and I’ve tried. The horseshit covers me head-to-toe. Everyone can smell it. I wander the streets, dreaming of the Fairy Godmother. The answer to my entire life was inside of her somewhere. In every mirror, I see nothing. My self is just a series of ticks and habits. No substance. An unemployable magician who exposed his best tricks; incapable of learning new ones. I am a blank slate.

* Step 7 and thereafter refer to a person who only remembers being bad. He is no longer capable of creating new fairies.

Step 7 - The Shower

It takes a while, but scrub hard enough and the shit comes off. It doesn’t stink anymore. I’m bearable to look at and if you stand close… well it’s not roses, but it’s not diarrhea. It’s honest, but it’s not much. I’m lost. But clean. Like a stray dog, you consider taking me in but it’s a lot of responsibility at this point. So you’ll let me keep walking, hoping that I’ll find my own way eventually.

I’m working on steps 8 - 9 as I write this. No fun at all. It’s like the alcoholic at a bar who forgot how to drink but remembers what it feels like. I watch as everyone finds a fairy here and there. I couldn’t be bad if I tried. The bad boy is dead. In his place is a guy who smelt like shit for a while. Even though I’m clean, it’s hard to scrub away the memories.