10 August 2010

Homeless

  

Ok, simply put: if you meet a guy and he tells you he was homeless at
some point, don't be a twit and try to "save" him. Instead, RUN. I've always
been obsessed with the idea of reforming a bad boy(common single behavior )
So, naturally when I met a VERY cute, southern- rooted boy, with a troubled
past.. I fell in love.




In the beginning, it was cotton candy and sunshine. I was showered with
endless compliments, attention, and, of course, affection. I pinched myself;
I couldn't believe that after all this time of dating complete LOSERS, I
finally found a catch. A sweet, handsome guy, with killer taste in music and
a humongous heart... who I am kidding?  I really meant penis, a humongous
penis.



So I jumped right in, I didn't flinch at the fact that he didn't
technically have a "real" job, didn't have a car, and the fact that his
apartment smelled, looked dirty and old. That's right, instead I praised his
bohemian lifestyle... I admired how he moved from town-to-town working
meaningless jobs and getting shit faced at local dive bars.  He buttered my
bread and cleaned the ol' pipes - I was a happy girl.



I can't recall when things went south, but my gay friends were the
first to see it, they'd call him a loser, a jerk, violent, poison for the
soul, Lucifer, you name it. He talked in circles, drank beer for breakfast
and wore the same clothes for days. He couldn't spell and had zero social
skills. Oh, and I'm pretty sure he's a sociopath.


We'd argue over pointless shit, and he'd apologize by buying me random
gifts, like a heinous pageboy hat. Really? A hat? Not flowers or a nice
dinner (who am I kidding? He was too broke to buy me dinner). Instead,
homeboy bought me an ugly accessory that is taking up room in my closet.
Scratch that, as I was writing this, I got up and threw it right where it
belongs: the garbage.


I wish I could forget this one night when we drank too much (shocker) and I
must of said something to really tick him off. One minute we were

holding hands and the next he had my finger in a Chinese torture death grip,
bending and contorting it, like a piece of silly putty. The next day he
swore to me it was the tequila: "it makes me black out." He claimed
innocence and acted as if it were a figment of my imagination.  Still, I

defended him and ignored my friends, choosing to see what I wanted to see
and not what he truly was.


Eventually I got broken up with on the phone. To be quite candid, I hung in
there, hoping he'd change his mind and take me back. So fast forward three
months... it took him hitting on another girl in front of me to finally wake
up and realize this guy was a douche-squirt.  All I was left with was an
ugly hat, a sprained finger and a bruised ego. This guy sucks.


Point of the conversation: Don't sleep with or try to reform a homeless man.


- La La 


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