As written earlier and forever before that, there is something about dirty boys that turns me obsessed and slightly crazed. I can't put down the drinks or the phone because that boy is out there and the drinks make me want to phone and the silent phone makes me want to drink and suddenly the room is spinning and my heart is racing because maybe he replied or maybe he didn't but maybe he still will and maybe he will even walk through the doors of this very bar at any second or maybe he won't and maybe my phone will remain silent and maybe I'll keep drinking when I get home and pass out alone in bed. But whatever ending I'm met with on any given night is not important because a beer is almost as good a substitute as drunk kisses and spoons that never mean anything in the morning. No. What matters is the maybe. The unpredictability of it all, the rush, the excitement, the almost euphoria or the disappointment. It's why I come back time and time again to boys that are only ever fun and always forever bad. It's a love drug thing. I'm hooked on the possibility of love and companionship and connection presented one night and then so easily forgotten the next.
I know I deserve more than one night and these boys, but things could always be worse. I may be a love junkie for dirty boys but dirty boys are dirty and this love is never real and so dirty boys can never break your heart because they were always dirty to begin with. I'll take the possibility of these nights with dirty boys over real boys and real feelings because I know I'll always walk away whole and intact with my walls still firmly in place.