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Unsuitable Men.....

  • By girly-d
  • On 15/01/2018
  • 0 comments

I have an appalling track record with men. It is truly, ridiculously, horribly bad.

Misogynists, psychopaths, sociopaths. You name them, I met them. Then I dated them.

I used to joke to my friends that I could pick out the badman out of a crowd of a thousand identically dressed, identical looking men....whilst wearing a blindfold. Only I wasn't actually joking. Because I really, honestly could. I can. I do.

Which isn't something that fills me with glee.

Because my bad men aren't exciting, or alluring like the ones in the films.

My bad men are trouble... spelt in bright red capital letters.

I didn't have much to go on when it came to male role-models to be honest. Apart from my teachers and my little brother, all of the men I ever met growing up were from the local working mens club - (like Wetherspoons, but before Wetherspoons was invented).... The place where I spent hours as a child when my mum didn't have a babysitter, and the place where I spent even more hours as a teen when I didn't actually need one.

The men who drank there knocked back pints with whisky chasers, smoked like chimneys and played darts and bingo. They fed the fruit machines, bet on horses and wore knock-off t-shirts teamed with goldie-looking chains.  All looked and acted as though they were "too cool for school" and the women seemed to love them. Virtually every female I knew had one in tow. 

Not the best of the bunch granted, but harmless enough......not my idea of a catch, but not 'bad'. Not 'bad' as in 'bad,bad'.....

They came later.

So I was a streetwise kid. I grew up in bars. They were literally a home from home for me. The place where my mum worked and the place I spent an awful lot of time in.

And so as I got older, walking into bars on my own didn't phase me. It was second nature. I enjoyed my own company,  I also liked to drink. So spending time in bars made sense to me. Especially when I was hundreds of miles away from home and looking to make new friends. Where better to meet people than in bars? 

And I did meet people. More specifically, some not very nice men. Who just happened to also spend a lot of time in bars. Mainly because they didn't have a job, or maybe they did have a job but were just choosing not to go to it that day, that week, that year. Men who spent time in bars because they had an axe to grind with ex-wives or girlfriends, and the world in general and so wasted their days drinking in bars hoping to find an excuse, any excuse, to sharpen it. Men secretly hoping that someone like me would walk through that door....so that they could chat me up, buy me a drink, and start to "win me over" in an attempt to prove to themselves and their mates that they've "still got it" but more as a potential inroad to eventually mess with my head as some kind of pathetic 'revenge' against any woman who had dared to mess with theirs.

And, it worked. Ridiculously I fell for these men. On more than one occasion. And I found out very quickly, the hard way, that bad men gain their reputation for a reason. Because they do what they say on the tin. They do bad things to other people, but mainly to women like me....usually to make themselves feel "manly". But mainly, just because they are one million percent pure arsehole and therefore should be avoided at all costs.

These days I don't drink. I very rarely go to bars, unless I need wi-fi in order to write. So happily I no longer get to meet these men. And I have a boyfriend now who adores me. Happily he is not an arsehole. He's lovely.  But I definitely won't forget some of the bad men from my past in a hurry. Their names and their faces are etched into my brain. A permanant reminder to me to spot them, swerve them and run a fucking mile if I ever cross paths with one again. 

#lessonslearned

me myself and i mental health not the slide control health

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