If you live your twenties in bars, carrying sleeping pills in your bag next to gum and writing columns on roaring music, you always get to like bad boys. That’s me, you and a bunch of everyone we know.
Boys in the bands, photographers, artists with no soul, writers.
In their presence you become this version of a groupie desperately trying to hold it together while browsing their sentences for attention. You feel so ignored but somehow important, like a rock star girlfriend or hangaround that is there because she’s definitely good looking and caught their eyes.
They fucking love the hunt, don’t they. Intangible girls, shy stupid giggly girls, girls with no heart and full of manners. Girls who are hard to get and hard to get in bed with. Just too much attention in their direction and you’re off the map.
They’re the breed that makes you act loony – you and a load of other girls out there.
Ignorance makes them handsome, together with the jaded look with a cigarette stuck to the corner of their mouth and a trashed t-shirt under a slick black sweater. You love their clothes, you’d sleep with them on stage and then steal the outfit. You’d rather freeze your ass off in high heels and a leather dress than be caught red handed in something unflattering at 3 AM.
You drink what they drink and never refuse a coffee.
You light another cigarette hoping this will hide the shaking.
These are the only guys you fall in love with. Because they are more sexy and more adventurous and you have to fight for them and you might get hurt which is thrilling and vicious. Except maybe if their voice fails them on stage despite how good the song may sound. Except definitely if the next best thing) that comes out of their mouth screams high on speed or if their awesomeness aura is only made of a recollection of the women they had.
Thus, if there’s an explanation rooted in psychoanalysis you should hunt it down for it and grab it from where it’s stuck. In your failing self esteem, need for validation from all the wrong places, or a bad relationship with your internal system, with a possibility that you miss the software to make attraction possible towards other types of men. Because being hooked exclusively on the wrong type of guys is very 1960’s, yet minus the heroin chic glamour. Minus the guilt trip. Minus the cheating. Minus herpes, maybe? The experience of dating bad boys in your twenties is, for some of us, crucial. Beneficial – in the sense that once the fascination veil wears off, it can take you much better places, land you much suited men. Or it cannot, but that depends on how far or short you want to go with your desires of requited love. Bad boys may turn into unattainable men, if you try to change them. So make yourself, not bad boys, the center of your universe, and see what happens. Good luck!
Ioana Cristina Casapu is the Managing Director of Art Parasites Magazine. She likes Brian Eno, airports and never says no to a good old Gin&Tonic.