Why The Bad Boy?

My world

Another typical Saturday night, I'm drinking beer, eating chips, and watching late-night talk shows while enjoying putting together jigsaw puzzles. That's what my regular weekends are like now. When did I become so dull? I'm twenty-five but feel eighty. I have been feeling like this these past couple of weeks. I have refused my friend's constant proposals to go out clubbing and enjoy the outside world, maybe it's because I hate their current boyfriends.

I live in a one-bedroom apartment. I work at a busy medical office in the Bronx and watch romantic movies. I have a boyfriend, and I have friends. My girlfriends have one thing in common; they love the bad boys. The typical tattooed, leather jacket, owns a bike, bad boys. They break your heart, and if you're not careful, they'll break your bones.

I couldn't disagree more with their picks in men. There's the buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. I know who it is, it's Patricia. I take my time opening the door because she won't go away even if I take a million years to answer. I make it to the door and dryly say, "What do you want Patricia?"

Patricia storms in. "It's Killer," That's her current boyfriend's nickname. "He cheated on me again. He keeps breaking my heart like--like I'm some whore that he can diss every chance he gets. Hell NO! Not this time, It's over! I supported him and his dreams to be a rock star, and this is what he does to me? I caught him in bed with this blonde I see at the bar where he performs. She was spread cowgirl on him. Riding him. Yeehaing him!"

"Ew...I get the point, Patricia. Now I won't get that image off my head. Thanks." I close the door behind her. I swear, I think she might be bipolar, one minute she comes through my door happy and full of life, the next she's depressed and full of hate. That's what bad boys do to you. They bring out the crazies. I saw it done to my girlfriends many times. I swore never to fall victim of one. Everything that goes wrong in their life is equal to one common denominator, BAD BOYS!

"What have I warned you?" I say,

She repeats after me, "Stay away from bad boys. If he owns a bike, back away. If he wears leather, let him go, and if he puts on a show, show him the door."

My door buzzes again. My friends barge in and out of my apartment, with their love stories and sob stories, seeking advice, oh, and I'm the advisor. The worst advisor ever. I don't get paid, my door never closes, and no one takes my gosh darn advice. So, I waste my breath, my time, and money since I have to offer drinks, and occasionally food. Who am I kidding? I don't provide. They raid my refrigerator without my consent. Can I call rape?

I open the door, and to my surprise, not surprisingly, it's Teressa. Yes, the tall, blonde who falls for every bad boy. Delusional and obsessive-compulsive disorder, that's what I diagnosed her. Teressa thinks those men are walking hormonal superheroes and freaks in bed. Sure, that's what they are — maniacs in bed. According to her sexual experience with them, she has the hottest sex, the badest time, and don't forget the craziest stories.

"We're going to the party tonight or what?" She asks.

"Killer is cheating on me again. What should I do?" Patricia needs attention. She's needy and emotionally attached to her boyfriends.

I take a seat, and Barbie is opening my refrigerator. I roll my eyes while pretending to listen to Patricia.

Teressa shrugs, "Dump his ass," She says while taking small bites of strawberry. How is she still slim? She's constantly eating.

I interrupt. "Have you not learned anything? You're going to do the same thing again, ending in the same place and by definition that's insane, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Listen as your therapist, not really, I suggest you give yourself time. Find your purpose, spent time alone to reflect on how these toxic relationships have affected you. Then find what you truly want in life. Learn a new skill or try new things. Concentrate on you for once," I say. I'm great at giving advice, not so much taking it myself. Do what I say, not as I do.

They gape at me as if I haven't said this about a thousand times. Teressa clap, "Amen to that."

"Your right. That's a great idea. But what if Killer begs me? How can I resist the temptation? The sex is outstanding. I mean, I will find something to argue about just to have make-up sex. I don't know if I can resist Killer's charm. You girls don't understand. His muscular arms wrap around my waist as he picks me up. And Bam! He does this fucking orangutan shit on my ass. Killer bangs me to another universe, making my head spin. I don't know if I can stay away from that." I have a hard time picturing what she described. Orangutan? Is that like a new Kamasutra pose or something? I don't ask. I may not want to know.

"How about your pride? –Your broken heart? Your time? Who gives back the time you wasted on him?" I say,

"You're so passionate about hating on bad boys, huh? There is a plus side to them too, the adventures, the sex, the confidence, the danger! I feel secure with them like they can protect me above all. In the end, isn't that what women strive for?" Teressa says.

"No, I'm fed up. You girls always get your hearts broken, then come to me crying. You want bad boys then go for it. But for once, Patricia, give a nice guy a try. No leather jacket, no bike, no records, and no roughness of any kind," I say. "And frankly, I'm tired of confronting these assholes, and you deserve better."

They are both eating my strawberries now. "Awe, fine. I will resist. Women power, right?" Patricia smiles. "We must stick together. I won't even know where to find a good guy?"

"You'll see him when you open your eyes to one. They've most likely approached you many times, and you have failed to notice," I say. "Now, get out of my apartment. Noah should be here any minute." As the words escape me there, he is standing like prince charming in front of me, dressed in his sweater and jeans. I go to him, wrap my arms around him and kiss his tender lips. He cuddles me, kissing me back. I smile back at the girls.

"So, no party tonight? Okay, fine, we are out! Come on, Patricia, drinks are on me," Teressa says.

Patricia stares our way, "Bye, Noah."

"See you ladies," Noah says.

I turn and gaze at his sparkly brown eyes. They are memorizing. "I finished the puzzle," I say.

"Without me?" He says. "You're the worst." He shakes his head and pulls out his computer from his bag, to start playing video games.

"Sheesh, Noah, again with the video games? Can't we, you know...do it?"

"I'm exhausted, Karly. It's been a long day at work, dealing with patients all day isn't easy. You know that." The sound of a strong woman's voice narrates his task on the video game. I hear his online friends through his earpiece. I lost him. Is this the kind of relationship we millennials women have to deal with? Boys drifting to video games, never ready to launch.

"But you're not tired enough to play that stupid video game," I say more to myself than him, I go to bed. Noah stays over a couple of nights a week. Mostly on the days when he works at Medic Care. He is a medical assistant at the hospital, but volunteers shifts at the medical office where I work. That's where we met. He said something cute on a bright sunny day and sat a caramel latte on my desk with a sticky note that read: go out with me sometime. That was it. We started dating a few weeks later, after going on our first date to the movies, we made it official. Now a year later, while he plays video games on his laptop, I watch my horoscope on my phone. We are comfortable, and there is nothing wrong with that, I guess.

Feb 10. Pisces-You have lived a peaceful life. The time has come to spice it up; a hurricane is coming. How will you prepare for the storm?

"Guess I'll drown," I say, shutting my phone and putting it on the charging port. I look at Noah, "Night, baby."

"Goodnight baby," He says and gets up from the floor a quick second to kiss me and back to his game. I open my mouth to say something, but he's already on his headset. I smile and go to sleep.