Twenty First Century Fuckup.

For so long, I've thought about the perfect guy. Been consumed by the mere idea of him. I've blogged about him so many times before. In my head, he's taken shape, and I know exactly what it is that I'm looking for. What I want from him, and how he'll treat me, even the ways in which he'll look at me. How he'll make me feel so special, and loved. So why is it that we allow ourselves to mess things up with the guys are are potentially that guy? You know, the ones that don't want to hurt us, or see us cry. They want to keep our smiles real, our hearts in tact, because to them, the simpe knowledge of love is so precious. 

I blog about never settling for second best, to be somebodies everything, and to only ever allow yourself to fall for somebody who is willing to love you back. So why is it that there is still a part of me that craves him? The one I shouldn't be thinking about. Still a part of me that, after all I say, is still willing to fall second best. The one who I don't wake up beside. The one who isn't the guy who likes to fall asleep with his arms wrapped round me, and kisses me non-stop. He's not the guy who tells me that I'm special, or that I look beautiful when I look like a throw back to cave men, or the guy who tells me that I'm the only one he wants. 

You see, we girls are possibly the most confusing gender. We want the good guys, and when we get them, we're blinkered by the bad guys suddenly ferrying after us. And they'll hurt us, because they always do. And then we'll bitch, and moan, and plaster over every social networking site going about how men are wankers, when in reality we're actually to blame.We had the good guy, and yet we still went back to the bad guy.
 Still let the good guy slip away. And for what? To trade being treated like we should be, how we deserved to be treated, to being treated like a part of some never ending game? Strung along until our hearts are broken, and we're damn right misreble. Then we wake up and realise we've been stupid. And it's only when we can't have him anymore than we suddenly want him.

So guys, they can never really win. We want one thing, and yet we chase after entirely another thing altogether. So do we really have a right to moan when he breaks out heart, and the good guy no longer wants us?