Tame

Even though I know he's no good for me, and even though I know I could never date him, I found myself attracted to him tonight.

He sat at the end of the bar with my friends and me, full of witty remarks and quick comebacks. His long and lanky frame occupied a space that was always just out of my reach. And I liked it; That he was there, and that I couldn't reach him.

I laughed at his jokes, and he laughed at mine. We caught each other's eyes throughout the evening, something unspoken passing between us. He said he had to leave by 10:30, but he stayed around until midnight. I like to think it was because of me.

I know he's not interested in love and marriage, I know he's been around. And, knowing what I know about him, up until now anytime anyone mentioned him to me, I shooed away the notion of him. "He's a slut," I always say. "I would never date him. I know where he's been." Sure he's attractive. But he's also a player...And that's not my type.

But tonight, it was different. We played the same game, and we were well-matched competitors. We took jabs at one another, our wordplay exciting and intoxicating. He gave me just enough to get me interested, but not enough to let me know he'd come after me. And I wanted him to come after me.

For all my big talk of days gone by, I found myself just as giddy as the girls before me, falling prey to his big smile and his avant-garde sense of style. I wanted him to want me. And his subtle acknowledgement of me was just enough to make me crave him.

What I don't understand is this: I spend countless hours pouring my weeping heart into this blog, whining about how much I want a man who will treat me right. Who will send me flowers at work, who will make me feel like the only woman on earth who matters, who is a gentleman, who will give me the world if I only ask for it. Yet time and time again, I find myself drawn to the men who are the antithesis of what I "want." I'm sucked in by the bravado, the cockiness, the take-me-or-leave-me attitude. I want the man who doesn't want me.

And what it really is, I think, is my innate desire to tame the wild horse. To be able to say "He was a rowdy one...Until he met me." And I know how catastrophic this can be; I've attempted it already, and failed. But still, I feel myself wanting to try again.