04.16.05

I can't decide if I've been reading too many trashy romance novels. (And, o', o', o', go check this out Romance covers, re-imagined. A huge, rollicking *mwah* of appreciation to HissandTell for letting me know about it.)

Where was I? Ah yes. I've been reading the damn things like a madwoman recently. I seem to retreat into that world of romantic fantasy when I'm trying to figure stuff out. Contrary to common belief, all TRNs aren't about fluff-headed virgins waiting for tall, dark and handsome viscounts to rescue them. At least the ones I read aren't. They're about complex women getting off of their asses and living lives. With the added bonus of naughtiness thrown in. They're inspirational in a very strange way.

The fact that the TRNs that I favour tend to be heavy on sex and sensuality, well, I suppose they're an outlet for what I'm not experiencing in real life. After all, a TRN hero is ever so much more safe than a real, live person. Certainly less chance of disappointment. *self-deprecating half-smile*

I've been listening to a band called Indigo Swing for the past few days as I drive from here to there. There's one song, How Lucky Can One Guy Be?, that hit a nerve. Or, really, it rang like struck crystal--a moment of clarity, startling in its speed--that's what I want. I want a man who feels that way about me--and isn't afraid to tell me.

You want to hear a shameful confession? Do you want to know why I stuck with my ex- for 15 years? This is so pathetic, and so telling of my insecurities. I stayed with him because he's the only man who ever called when he said he would.

I seem, in the past, to have been the subject of brief, intense interest by men. Men who couldn't help but tell me, often in the crudest terms, what they wanted with me. I suppose that it's a form of compliment, to reduce someone to that, but it frightens me. Yet I court it, with my belly dancing and dirty poetry. Ye gods and little fishes, what a contradictory mess. I feel sorry for any man that might harbour some attraction for me. I've put up so many walls and defenses, all in the rather vain and stupid hope that someone would try to breach them. If I end up alone, it'll be through my own machinations, I think.

Recently, a married man confessed his attraction to me. Not that I'm anything special, I believe that this man has an insatiable need for female companionship. However, the first thought in my mind (after being appalled) was, Great, another man in my life who wouldn't be there for me.

*smile* (I'm laughing at myself.)

My problem is that I like cocky, over-confident bastards. How much of a cliche (just pretend there's an accent over that last E, will you please?) is that?

*sigh*

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