Beware The Lure Of The Jaded...

I don't know about y'all, but some of my best, most earnest and thought provoking conversations have taken place after midnight. I think my brain works better after 12:01am- who am I to question it?

On Wednesday night, after my second trip witnessing the fabulous stage presence and vocal stylings of Ms. Laura Izibor, I hung out with one of my buddies to catch up and discuss all the bullshit that continues to consume our lives. Inevitably the conversation turned to relationships, or rather our lack thereof.

Besides him being blown away at the concept of me having actually been in love with someone AND being too chicken to approach someone I like (my Jaded-status was in serious jeopardy that night) we also surmised that I have what is known as the kavorka, the lure of the animal.

Why? Well, you know I'm not a particularly conceited person, only in jest. If you've been reading this blog long enough you know I drown myself in low self-esteem, body-image, trust and daddy issues, and suffer from a raging case of depression. But the facts are the facts, and it seems that long after I've told an ex to go fuck himself he seems to still try and worm his way back in. And when I say I've told exes to go fuck themselves I've said JUST THAT, and still they come back and try to gain my favor again.

As in, just last week one such ex invited me to stay with him in Puerto Rico during President's Week while my girls were away. I can't make this stuff up!

Dude stood there and asked me, "Damn, Raquel, what are you doing to these guys?" I really, truly wish I knew. I'm not particularly affectionate with men. Sometimes I'm downright stank and attitudinal and rude. I show very little regard for their feelings and am somewhat...okay VERY... bratty and spoiled. I hardly see how that can prompt one of my exes to think, "I wonder what she's doing? I miss her." Unless of course I seem to be dating the same masochists over and over.

Even Ms. Smarty Jones has been known to ask me what I bathe in to have dudes throw their pride aside for me (it's Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap and/or jabon de cuaba from DR, by the way) after I've been so shitty to them. Seriously, hell if I know.

That's where guy friends come in handy. Over some not-too-great-but-not-too-bad Buffalo wings my friend said, "...I'm not trying to gas you up or give you a big head or anything..." and proceeded to list the different things that these guys are probably (still!) attracted to. I don't think I need to explain that on top of all of my other faults another is that I don't know how to interpret and digest a compliment, so I'm not 100% convinced by what he said to me but it was a great peek into the mind of men. I'm sure he broke 1,001 man-laws by divulging this information but apparently I have that affect on him, too.

What it added up to was a damned if I do, damned if I don't situation. I have this kavorka bullshit and unless I can find some Latvian Orthodox priest to give me the full recipe for the antidote I should expect to keep getting invitation to travel out of the country, sperm offers and random text messages that read, "I wonder if you'd be open to giving us another chance?"

One would think this isn't a REAL problem and I should just shut the fuck up and bask in the glory of the attention, but when it isn't coming from THE guy you want it to come from, you might as well not be getting any attention at all.

*smooches...wondering how to rid myself of this catch-22*
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did I ever mention the old family tale that my great-grandmother had a curse put upon her way back when, rendering all her female descendants single for life? *sigh* how can I possibly fight some otherworldly shit like this??