All My Single Ladies

There is a breed of woman who are single. Not single at the moment, just single. Previously, continuously, perpetually single. These women were the 16 year old girls who were told by 24 year old men that they're a tease. That they lead men on. These women were the 20 year old girls who come home from college to a mother's nagging about why they never have anyone special to discuss. These women do not lack experience. They date. They have sex. They even get attached. They wear short spandex dresses with stilettos and often find themselves the recipient of the kindness of strangers. Male strangers. 

They are masters of the first date. They can be charming, mysterious, innocent or devilish, adorably quirky or entirely generic. But when these nice men who buy them drinks begin to request a little more sincerity they panic. They tell the man it was lovely getting to know him, but "believe me, you don't want to deal with me. You're such a nice guy and I don't think I'm the right girl for..." For what? For a nice guy.

Because the guys they want to pin down are the ones running so fast they can't see. The guys they want are unreasonable, irrational, emotionally unavailable, and utterly unresponsive.  They're complicated, vulnerable, angry, and incredibly intriguing. They're totally un-fulfilling yet entirely delicious. So basically, they're Chinese food. 

It is commonly said by nice men that women want an ass hole.

While there seems to be an undeniable pattern of great girls liking unworthy narcissists, I don't think its because that's what they want. 

Maybe, just maybe they can't accept the nice guy because they don't feel nice. They're trouble and they know it.  They're dark and cynical and emotional.  They're never going to say their sibling is their best friend. They're never going to hold your hand before they've slept with you. They're never going to be a nice girl. And they're sorry for that. 

But where does that leave them? Somewhere in between a sweet, genuine hand holder and a mysterious, flaky tool bag. They're neither here nor there. And so, they return home for spring break, reluctantly telling their mothers, that no, they do not have a boyfriend and no, they are not a lesbian. Maybe it would console these mothers to know that they're trying. They just haven't found a sweet asshole yet.