Me and Mr. Wrong get along so good. Sing it, Mary.
Today, at 7:38 a. m., while most
alcoholics normal people were abed sleeping off St. Patrick’s Day hangovers, I was up and out on a run. Because I didn’t go out last night.
I went to dinner with a guy who could be my next Mr. Wrong.
I know how to spot a Mr. Wrong in the wild, because over the last few years I’ve gone out with plenty of them. Once you’ve found one in his natural habitat, it becomes easier to recognize the next one.
What’s not so easy, however, is avoiding him in the first place. Because Mr. Wrong is very good at camouflage. On the surface, he appears to be Mr. Right…or at least Mr. Right Now…
I’ve encountered the following
wolves in sheep’s clothing subspecies of Mr. Wrong in my dating adventures.
If you ever meet the last one, run away. FAR, FAR AWAY.
When you’re dating a Mr. Wrong, nothing ever seems to go right. All the crazy, mildly neurotic, slightly dramatic behaviors that you
hide from the world really don’t have seem to come out. It’s like all of a sudden you’re that girl.
The girl that second-guesses everything. That is never sure. That never talks about what’s on her mind because she’s too afraid of looking dramatic/needy/psycho. That lives in a perpetual state of “will this or won’t this” work out. The girl that has an unhealthy obsession with wanting to know how the story ends.
When in reality, you’re not that girl at all. You’re just with the wrong guy.
My potential Mr. Wrong? He’s smart and funny and really cute and sweet and we have an amazing time together. But he also could be a Mr. I Want You to Wait Around. And while you’re waiting for me to decide if I want to be with you or not, don’t date anyone else. Just wait.
So now I’m torn. Do I throw this fish back into the sea? Because he could be a Mr. Wrong? Or do I chance it?
Yea, pretty sure I’d like to peek ahead to the ending on this one…