MEMO TO MEN: The Temptation Equation.

MEMORANDUM
TO: Men all over the planet
FROM: Melissa
RE: Your corrupting ways
DATE: May 12, 2010

What is it with my obsession with you, bad boys? I’m not a bad girl. Heck, I’m probably the biggest prude you’ll ever meet, boys. I should stay away from those bad guys, lest they rob me of my glorious innocence.

Awhile back, I formaulated some theories on why I tend to fall for those brooding, on-the-fringe types. If you think about it, boys, these theories actually make a lot of sense…

THE GOOD GIRL SYNDROME
I’ve always been the proverbial ‘good girl’: I went to church, didn’t smoke or drink, stayed in on weekends and always managed a strict 3.6 GPA. I lived a tame and somewhat ridged life, but isn’t that what all girls are taught from a young age? We have to be innocent, sweet, likeable, gentle. The bad boys were always taboo. It’s not that I wanted to morph into a Big Bad Mama; I was just tired of always being so straight-laced, of having everyone around me assume my middle name was Goody Two Shoes. Why couldn’t I taste that sweet nectar of rebellion? That’s how it is for a lot of us ‘prime and proper’ types. It’s not that we wanted to completely abandoned our ways and everything we believed in. We were just a bit tired of having to maintain that image. All. The. Time. We wanted the taste and feel of danger without buying the product and still knowing at the end of the day, we would tuck ourselves into bed promptly at 8 p.m., a little smirk on our face, of course.

THE THRILL OF THE SUMMER FLING
I soon realized I’d chosen the tattoo-rocker/nude model mold for a reason. It was safe. Like fire. I could get as close as I wanted and feel the heat, but never had to touch the flame and get burned. With these guys, I could fantasize to my heart’s content – all for free and with no strings attached. These were, after all, the men I fully knew I could never establish a serious relationship with, and marriage? Well, that was certainly out of the question with these men, men you would never dream of bringing to your grandmother’s 90th birthday party, men who tend to brood in the corners at parties and men who always walk around with a little devilish grin. It was rather freeing, actually. I could relax and live in the moment: just me and my obsession, guilt free. When you’re a teenager and have that first summer fling, you know in the back of your mind that summer will come to a bittersweet end. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to enjoy myself along the way. At least I’d have great memories of Pool Boy walking around shirtless. Did I mention he was a nude model too?

THE FLORENCE NIGHTENGALE SYNDROME
We women are a caring bunch, sometimes, well OK, lots of times, to our detriment. “He’s a poor tortured soul. I could save him.” Sound familiar? We actually think we can save them, by our own sheer willpower alone. We like flaws. We thrive on imperfections. That in itself is sexy. We can work with that. We can get him to open up to us in a way he’s never been able to and once we see those tears start flowing, we know we’ve succeeded. We’ve helped him face his demons, seen his scars. The only problem? After that, he will get his life on track, get a hobby or two and maybe even a corporate job. Then we’ll inevitably wonder: Where did our Bad Boy go?

THE KEN DOLL AVERSION
Let’s face it: Ken and his pals, with their perfect skin, blue eyes and blonde hair got old back in the ‘80s. As nice as it is to see a do-gooder Wally Cleaver, you can only eat apple pie for so long before it loses some of its sweetness and becomes, well, a bit sour. And boring. That’s when we need to add some spice to our life. Think exotic Ken or Hawaiian Ken with a secret, mysterious past.
Damn me and my optimism that like some romantic comedy, I’ll be able to find the soul, the warmth underneath the brash badness.

It’s true what they say: Nice guys (and prudes like Yours Truly, apparently…) do finish last. To all you Nice Guys out there: Keep holding out. We’re slowly making our way to you. We just have to get this bad boy phase out of our system first. At least we know the good ones will be waiting for us at that finish line. They’ll probably have a glass of lemonade (or Barq’s root beer for me…) waiting for us too.
Nice guys, I know you’re out there, so please, introduce yourself to me. I fear my future stability may rest on it…or has the ship already sailed on that one? Oh, shoot? And oy.

[Photos via Audrey Hepburn Complex]