Honestly…

I’m a firm believer in a few things:

  1. Honesty is the best policy
  2. Timing is everything
  3. Shit happens

The first was always the most difficult for me.  For as much as I told the truth, I could never manage to stop lying to myself about the terrible men I chose to bring into my life.

Leaving Louis was smart, but leaving him for someone exactly like him was stupid.

It’s not difficult to tell if a man is good or bad, real or fake…it’s just difficult to admit that they’re not good or they’re not real…especially when they make such a compelling case for themselves.

For example, Steve (who I started sleeping with shortly after Louis) was pre-law at NYU.  He came from a good family, cooked and went to the gym on a regular basis.  He wanted to move to California after graduation and get a job doing entertainment law with his brother who was already established out there.  However, I never got the pleasure of meeting that “good family”, he never made me dinner and he frequented the gym because that’s where he picked up the women he cheated on me with.

The same thing happened with Brandon except that he had no family and liked to pick up men AND women in hospital waiting rooms.

Yet, as bad as these men were – it would take me weeks, sometimes even months to leave them.  I told myself what every girl tells themselves – “If I just stick it out a little longer, they’ll see how great I am” or “I know he acts like an asshole but when he’s nice, he’s really nice”.

But sooner or later, you realize that Prince Charming isn’t en route…he’s stopped at the local tavern and fallen into bed with one of Cinderella’s step sisters as a last hurrah before having to carry your stupid ass into the sunset.  That’s why you have to lay off the Ambien (Sleeping Beauty – seriously?), wear better shoes (I get that you’re going to be dancing all night Cinderella but girl you need to get some traction), fall for someone who’s available (did you really think that was going to end well Ariel?) and get up off your ass and be your own fucking rescuer.

Ladies, come on, you’re making the rest of us look bad…honestly…

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