I can’t help but to feel sorry for the men that I find attractive. Sorry for their beautiful skin or gorgeous eyes. Sorry for their fine bodies, their deep or husky voices, their good jobs and intelligence. I feel sorry for their walk, talk, dress, tastes, style, everything.


I feel sorry for them because by reason of my attraction to them, they are an a**hole.


They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results. And that if something is wrong in every situation you find yourself in, then the common denominator is in fact, YOU. Books are written about why men love bitches and how women are from venus, and literature up to the you know what detailing relationship advice. I know, because I had read the majority of them.


See, I know everything about a relationship by the book. I can quote you fancy lines and inspiring notations that would help you in your relationship. I can weave you fancy tales and give clever examples to support my statements. The thing is, we know what to do once we get into a relationship, but oh lord the choices we make as to whom we get into these relationships with.


So, What’s my type? My poison of choice? You guessed it. The infamous a**hole.

asshole lord noel


I didn’t mean for it to be this way, but it seems as though that is my personal insanity.


For example, the true bowel stretcher of a man who is comfortable with me paying and happy to relax and let me handle it. The sphincter clinger who states that by reason of my birth and nationality my attitude is something he wished to avoid. The mover and shaker of the anus who asked my sister back for the $8 he used to buy her Wendys. Not to mention the colon filler who couldn’t find the time to call or message because he was too busy. And of course I could go on, and on, and on.  


Why do I date these kinds of people? If you have the answer, please let me know. Perhaps it is the culture in which I was raised, and the options I have to select. Perhaps one could argue my daddy issues and family dysfunction leads me to this choice. Then again others may theorize about various self esteem issues and events that happened in my childhood. Or maybe I’m just a silly woman who doesn’t make good choices because of a combination of all of these. I probably just wasn’t taught any better.


Whatever the case may be, I am tired of the a**hole attraction.


Therefore, it is confirmed. Be it resolved… I cannot be attracted to the next person I date. Simple.


It is decided.