No More Mrs Nice Guy…

I finally understand what Seal was talking about when he sang “Now that we’ve found love, what are we gonna dooo with iiiiit”.

You have your heart nearly surgically removed. With the help of a small army (ie: family and friends), you haul out a massive band-aid and fix it. You have a Rebounder Relationship. You date. Then you give it all up and embark on the Solo, Single and Splendid Journey.

Well, at least, that’s how I rolled.

I don’t want to tempt fate. I have been known to count my boys before they hatch. But let’s just say Mr F.F (Friggin’ Fantastic) is, well, friggin’ fantastic, and has me seriously considering giving up my sordidly selfish single lifestyle filled with flirtations, friends, dancefloors, flying by the seat of my pants, zero obligations, full cream vanilla ice cream at 2am in bed and, dare I say, financial misbehaviours.

He is generous, manly, wise, sweet, attentive, dark and sinister in a very Bret Easton Ellis kinda way (very appealing to me), has hip bones so sharp I could slice Grana Padano off of them, makes me laugh until my facial muscles hurt, he knows how to cook, look after a plant and a house of his very own…And… the man has a plan.

What is it about a man who’s “too nice”??? Is there such thing as being “too perfect”; “more perfect”; “perfect-est”?? He has done everything perfectly. From the meticulously planned dates, weekends, dinners, table conversation and etiquette down to the way he talks to me about life, love and everything else.

The Man is Too Good for His Own Damn Good.

Too good for my rants about my retarded colleagues and bad hair days, my lack of good fitting jeans, my lame-ass friend who is dating a moron and waitrons who do not understand the importance of serving brown sugar with coffee… The man is too patient, too attentive, too rational, too level-headed, TOO GODDAMN CALM. Calmness = Arnold Schwarzenegger in Robocop.

Mainly, I hate how I feel like a maddened heathen around such a clear-headed, sane man. I feel like an imbecile for filling the calm silence with words. Don’t give me silent air, give me colourful words to cavort in hysterically so we can talk for hours about nothing, and finish it all off with rolling around on the carpet like two possessed lunatics.

Sadly, maybe I am so unfamiliar with this species (read: completely “normal” men) that I feel like I have landed on Mercury and I want to hovercraft my way back home to Venus.

3 Responses to “No More Mrs Nice Guy…”

  1. Love it.

  2. Go for it girl!! It’s about time…..

  3. Bret E E hosted “Rage” tonight and it was atrocious.. all middle-of-the-road late 90s shlock rawk.. hoping it was some big meta piss-take but im afraid i missed it.. dark and sinister it was _not_ and quite frankly its shaken my faith in the guy :~( .. oh and i hope you were joking about Arnie being in RoboCop..

    seriously though.. love the blog dude, keep kickin’

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