I'm a little drunk right now, so I hope this comes across the way I want it to rather than offending someone. A loaded preface, huh?
I met this guy on St. Patrick's Day. I'll call him Will. Will had a total Good Will Hunting thing going (hence the nickname): wicked smaht, wicked tough, wicked Irish, wicked hot. We had a fun time hanging out on Wednesday, so I gave him my number despite an uneasy feeling. First, something told me he wasn't right for me. Second, he lives right across the street and if I've learned anything in life it's you shouldn't shit where you eat.
I ignored my intuition and met him at a bar around the corner a few hours ago. It's his usual pub, so a couple of his buddies were there. I absolutely loved his friends. Born and raised Astorian blue-collar guys. Highly entertaining and I don't mean that in a condescending way. I hope I see them again soon.
Will, not so much. He is a very good looking guy and a complete contradiction. Like his namesake, Will is a Boston brawler. Thick, tough, loud, obnoxious construction worker. I seriously (and sadly) would not be surprised if he's killed someone before. The fact that I can type that without flinching is scary, which is why I know it's true. The contradictory part is he is a devout Catholic who enjoys quoting Yeats, Dostoyevsky, and pretty much everything else his apparently photographic memory has retained. It's amazing really...he's a walking Wikipedia bohunk.
What's interesting is that while I believe he's probably killed someone or at least attempted to, this is not the reason I don't want to see him again. The idea of murder, pre-meditated or not, is so far removed from my psyche that it feels almost fairy-tale-like. "Oh yes, you beat him to a fluffy bloody sparkly pulp. You are now granted three wishes." I don't know if this makes me sicker than an actual murderer, but it is what it is.
What totally turns me off about Will is the following, in no particular order:
1. He wants seven kids. He actually said day care is not an option, the mother needs to be home. When I mentioned I might not have kids he said that's "unnatural."
2. He asked if I was a yuppie, then referred to me as a "modern woman." I'm assuming this is because I support myself and don't need a man to take care of me. I want one to, just not him.
3. He kept interrupting his friends. This bothered me because I know I do it. (Sorry!)
4. He goes to church at least three times a week. He believes Catholicism is the only religion.
5. I forget what I said to make him ask this question, but instead of asking "Are you pro-choice?" he asked if I'm "pro-abortion." Weird, right? They are two completely different questions. I personally haven't and wouldn't get one at this age, but I don't give a fuck what a woman does with her own body. I think it's up to her.
6. While he says he's not racist, he is one prejudice mother. Honestly, if you feel the need to clarify you're not a racist, you are one. I haven't heard the words japs, jews, guineas, micks, spicks, and moolies (I don't even know how to spell it) since my grandfather died 13 years ago. And the worst word he used...
7. Colored. Are you fucking kidding me??? That word is awful. I don't think I've ever posted about my feelings on race. I am a blonde haired, blue eyed American. I have no idea what it's like to be judged by my skin, so I will never, ever pretend I do. When I say/write "black" I worry that I should be saying/writing "african-american" instead. I said the "n" word once when I was 20 years old and I still feel bad about it. I've called people the "n" word in my head and they weren't even black, they just scared the shit out of me. To me that word is not about race, it's about how safe I feel in the moment. Maybe it came from a place of race, but when a white homeless man gets on the train and starts screaming that we're all going to die if we don't love Jesus, well the "n" word pops into my head. Why? It's the worst word I can call anyone EVER. That's why I will never say it again. For the record, the second worst word for me is the "f" word for gay men. When I use that word I really hate someone, gay or not. If I use the "n" and the "f" word together, run like hell even if my anger isn't directed at you.
I labelled this post "Confused" because I was when I started writing it. Will walked me home and he kept asking me to come back to his place. I declined saying I didn't think we were right for each other. I said I'd like to be friends, mainly because he lives across the street from me and I want to be friends with his friends. He said, "I have enough friends. God bless." and walked away.
The confusing part was after he walked away I cried. I knew the tears weren't for him, but I didn't know why I was crying. At first I thought maybe it's because I fucking hate breaking up with someone. Yes, I've only known Will for two days so it's technically not a breakup, it's just that I don't like rejecting anyone. Who does?
After writing and sitting with this all, I know why I cried now. I'm not confused, I'm uncomfortable because I put myself and my needs first. I am not used to trusting and respecting myself and my values. I cried because I am finally starting to do so. They were good tears.
