The man of my dreams

The man of my dreams is in South America. No, he's not a drug lord or anything of the sort. His cause is noble. It is his sworn duty to protect the continent from the evil El Chupacabra. At least that's the story I'm telling myself. I believe that there is someone for everyone. Sometimes that person runs smack into you, sometimes, you have to stand still and listen for them...then sometimes their in South America hunting El Chupacabra. . . or eating mice in a bush in the Australian Outback...whatever. But that does not negate their existence.

I think that my relationship/emotional wants are fairly simple. But there's something about me, something I can't perceive, that doesn't compel men to meet my needs. Men just can not resist running me into the ground. I used to expect that in this amalgam of sex (both good and bad), relationships (all bad), marraige (definitely bad), friends with benefits and platonic friends, I'd one day have some type of reprieve. I used to think SOMEONE would say, "She's cool folks and I'm not going to have a hand in damaging her spirit." But you know what? That's NEVER going to happen. That's because it seems that the men I am attracted to are self-serving, egomaniacal jerks with no character. I have no idea why, but it's a time tested fact. Ultimately, the monkey shows his tail.

I've dated them all - college students, college graduates, high school drop-outs, college drop-outs, white collar, blue collar, older, younger, artists, jocks - you name it. The personalities have all been different, their characteristics have all been different. But they have all been the same in the end. I have racked my brain trying to figure out the why's and the wherefores and the before mentioned is the only viable conclusion I could come up with. Therefore, until "Javier" gets his visa and visits the States, I guess I'll experience a nunlike existence.