Gonna get personal here, but this has a point so bare with me for a moment. As I’ve said before, my life works in a series of ironies; they’re practically rules, but are more like cosmic guidelines that I’ve learned to respect throughout the years. Having said that, there are notable exceptions… mainly in the type of women I tend to gravitate to. There’s nothing sexier for me than a girl who’s confident, sure of herself and not afraid to get dirty; independent women are also fascinating to me, and since these types of women usually sport the qualities I just listed I tend to stick around them more than half the time, resulting in amazing adventures. Of course, even the Devil has a heart so the more you sink in, the more sensibilities you find… hell, I’m a writer. My feelings go haywire all the time. But I guess it’s the self-control when dealing with those types of situations what I really like in a woman. One that’s crazy, but is strong enough to keep it together. I love that.

Last night I stayed home becuase I wanted to lif my spirits up so I popped in Dave Chappelle’s Block Party and had a blast. As I listened to the musical acts I’d be chatting online with various people about various topics, each of them grasping my interest at various degrees. I’m the type that checks his contact list so often it’s ridiculous so during one of my routine checks I scrolled down my modest list and saw someone online who I, quite frankly, have somewhat of a crush on. And I use the term “crush” loosely because I don’t really operate under those terms… let’s just say I like the lady and what she represents. So I get to talking to her a little bit and everything’s fine and dandy, I’m excited because it’s always nice when I get to hear from her but just as quickly as she appeared, she vanished just as abruptly. This girl? I like her because she’s one the nicest, most polite and politically correct girls girls I’ve ever met with looks that would make me want to fight tigers if it’ll grant me a peek. She’s so polite it’s almost ridiculous of me to even like this woman, so much so that a while ago I sat down during a club night (it was a mutual friend’s birthday) and sip my drink while I pondered at to why I like her. That night in particular was downright ridiculous due to the fact that of all the matchbox-sized clubs in all the cities in all the country 3 ex-girlfriends + my torment had to be there. Imagine listening to a live band at a crowded place with 4 women who love/depise you in various degrees inside a bar that’s as big as your kitchen. Good times!

It’s not physical. Fuck, what am I saying. It is physical because this girl is beautiful in my eyes, but in order for me to ponder so much about it there has to be something more, some underlining I’m failing to see. I thought about it for days, letting it work itself out in the back of my mind like a Rubik’s Cube until one Tuesday afternoon, after 3 days of machinizing the fucking result hit me like a ton of bricks: opposites attract.

I was told some time ago that the way I carry myself is one of passive defiance, and when I talk to most people I give off this vibe that if you don’t bring your A Game I’m going to eat you for breakfast. Proof of this was a conversation I had right around the same time with a girlfriend of mine as we talked about this friend of hers I wanted to do the naked dance with. I asked her what the hell was wrong with her friend since every time I went over to talk to her she seemed painfully shy, so much so that it’d turn me off and to save ourselves the embarassment I swung away from that tree to search for coconuts elsewhere. My friend’s assessment? As it turns out, this girl was shy about talking to me because I sound smart and she thought that I would embarass her because she wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Rob: Am I supposed to talk to her like she’s in pre-school now?

Friend: See? There you go!

Rob: There you go what? It’s a valid question. I don’t mean to ridicule anyone!

Friend: I know you don’t but it’s not easy talking to you.

Rob: Huh?

Friend: Rob, we just talked about the Middle East conflict. I can’t talk about that with my boyfriend. I can’t talk about that with my mom even if I tried. Do you seriously see yourself talking to my friend about the Middle East conflict?

Rob: Good point.

Friend: You can’t talk about anything interesting with her because she has nothing interesting to say, Rob! None of my hot girlfriends do!

Rob: Then why do you hang out with them?!

Friend: I dunno. Because I’m the smart one.

Rob: Not a very smart move, babe.

Friend: That’s the thing, Rob; you call people out on their shit and someone like my friend doesn’t want someone smart pointing them out as idiots!

Rob: I don’t mean to do that…

Friend: I knowwwww… but you do! It’s who you are!

Rob: So, I’m too smart for her?

Friend: Yup.

Rob: What a shame… she has great tits.

If I want something, I go get it. It’s been one of my shuffling mantras for years. I pressed on, the girl opened up and the rest is ancient history but my point with that delightful conversation was that ego-ridden demeanor I apparently possess makes and breaks me, depending on the situation. Now, opposites attract: when I find someone as defiant as me it drives me to push the envelope harder and that to me is like crack. On the other side of the scale, though, whenever I run into a girl who’s nice and proper and with a sweet, melodic voice it’s like I’m the Millenium Falcon and my ass is being tractor-beamed into the Death Star of her vagina. I can’t escape it. I get a different kind of high when I deal with girls like these; I’m so used to being in control during ridiculous situations that when my shit’s spreading all over my trousers just because I’m talking to an honest-to-Marley nice girl, I get excited. That’s a loss of control I thoroughly enjoy, and the more of a lack of control I have the more I’m attracted to it (i.e my torment, but that’s a story I’ll tell some other day), like bugs to the light. This girl is great, the type you take home to your mom, settle down with and have a bunch of pretty babies. She deserves no less. So, why would she even look at a pirate like me? I don’t know, and I don’t care because I press on. There are instances where I hate embarassing myself but it’s with girls like these that I somehow keep making an ass of myself and loose control in such a way that I find myself second-guessing my every decision, and in my monumental attempt to act natural I come off as a ridiculous chinese knockoff of myself that’s trying too hard at being as nice and as polite as they are and I absolutely hate that, yet I know that if I was a third party watching from the sidelines I’d be LOL-ing the fuck out so that somehow makes it excusable. Things are best when they flow out organically (pardon the potentially disgusting phrase, there) and for me to be loosing my shit all over a girl I really like kind of shoot me on the foot with a shotgun.

Opposites attract, but what makes them get together? Rebellion, for one. The main reason why I’m not with my torment is because I represent a radical shift. An overhaul of everything. That makes me dangerous and for someone that doesn’t like change, it poses a problem for her (In retrospect, this is a mixed blessing; I don’t want the overhaul at the moment either, so this gives me time to roam the world and have my awesome adventures for a while longer). Since I’ve been the “undercover” guy for a while now, hiding behind shadows and fog as I have the time of my life with whatever woman’s daring and open-minded enough, the concept of coming out of there and regining myself in is a very attractive one. It’s in my design to not wander off if I’m getting my fix just right from a single source, if you will… it’s the Latino in me. But while I wait for someone daring and confident enough to reign me in, I’ll keep having myself some fun. Everybody wins.

I sure wish I was reigned in, though. But since I ridicule and make myself a reputation of someone who does whatever the hell he wants, things in that regard look like an uphill battle. Don’t they know that, as a great man once said… “It’s all in the hips?”

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