Rumor has it women like bad boys. They want someone with an edge, someone who doesn’t call, someone who treats them like shit from time to time. This rumor is inaccurate.
Girls fall for bad boys more than women do, but this is because they still believe they can fix them. That they are the one girl in the world to whom this handsome hardass will surrender his tender love.
But girls grow into women, time passes, lovers come and go, and the good guys stay. If not in our lives, then in our hearts. It’s the good guys we marry and have children with. It’s the good guys who win. And good guys are just as sexy and gorgeous as bad boyfriends. Way more. Good guys make our hearts melt.
Yesterday, I met again one of the good guys in my life. It happened, where else, on Facebook. We had a lovely exchange and I got the chance to tell him what my tangled up young self couldn’t say then and wouldn’t fully know for decades: he is one of a very short list of good men in my life. Men who lifted me up, men who cherished me, men who made me believe in myself.
And he was just a boy in 1971 when he took me to his junior prom, took me to see my favorite folk singer Melanie at the Masonic Temple, took me on dates to McDonald’s for cheeseburgers and Cokes. Picked me up for school and drove me there in his pick up truck. Was always sweet and caring. Never missed a phone call. Never missed a study date. (You realize that no actual studying went on, right?)
He made me feel pretty. Told me I was, and really, back then, I did everything I could to be not-pretty. It was my protest. Flannel shirts, thick wire glasses, no make up, no hair products, just wild and natural and not one bit pretty in the traditional sense of the word.
But a good guy always sees the beauty inside, no matter what kind of front a girl puts on with her jeans in the morning. And for that, we love them best.
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