I attract them.
No, really, I ATTRACT them.
Like bees to a picnic, buzzards to road kill, attorneys to�well�pretty much everything.
So I�m looking for a new job and meet with this recruiter. Cute, outspoken, radically improper, sexy with his Australian accent and surfboard tan.
I get the first interview, but not the second. He lets me know via email ending with let�s get a drink sometime to which I answer fine with me.
A few bantering emails later and we meet that evening instead of two days later as planned.
He has eight beers to my one glass of wine but � like all good romantic bastards � spends the entire time caressing my cheek, kissing my forehead each time he gets up, and whispering flattery in my ear.
Considering I�d just kicked a delicious 35 year old out of bed the night before because I was tired of his selfish attitudes � I was ready to bite. And be bitten. And I do seem to have an unfortunate fondness for romantic bastards.
He ordered a car and it was off to my place. Another hour or so of everything absolutely right and a promise extracted from me to embrace spontaneity by taking off work the next morning to spend it together.
I should have known when I finally went to clean up a bit and by the time I got back in bed he was curled up with my pillow, snoring. So much for the snuggle bit.
The next morning he made himself coffee and about the only conversation was � which way was the train. He popped off before I finished my cup of tea with a see you in two days.
Which, of course, was cancelled via email � something about a sudden meeting.
Get the picture?
Now, my dears, I don�t regret having brought him home. He was well-built AND well-schooled in all the right areas. And along with a great bonk, every girl likes the flattery and an earful of compliments � even if they aren�t real.
But I will say that the bastard part was a bit harder to take than I expected. You see, the whole first meeting this could be the start of something beautiful (ad nauseam) flattery thing continued even after it was obvious I was a sure thing � so what was the point�at that point?
Maybe it is still too soon after the last bastard in my life but it felt uncomfortably like the bag he put over my head broke sometime during the night.
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