“Movie where bad boy doesn’t get the girl in the end”
“Movie where bad boy does get the girl at the end”
“Movie where drug addicted boy gets girl at the end but, ceases to be a drug addict because girl is really cool”
These are a few examples of Google searches I made while in the depths of a crush and quandary. The quandary in question: Can a relatively clean cut, self-proclaimed woman-child like myself make things work with a…man-child under the influence?
The easy answer is “no”. The answer I was hoping to get from a movie like Blow, was “maybe” since I’ve never seen Blow.
We’ll call him “Bug”. As in Big Ugly Guy. A nickname from him, not me. Carrie Bradshaw had Mr. Big and I have Bug…
Bug and I met at an open mic. He was handsome, jittery, and very funny. I was instantly taken with him. I nudged my friend, Scott, and told him I needed the guy making ill-prepared one-liners. He recognized Scott and fist-bumped him in the middle of his set. Scott became my ticket in. He towered over us at 6’6 feet, all knees and elbows. His hair was grey, despite being younger than me, which made him look like Steve Martin in a way I really liked. “Scott! You have to set me up with him!” I furiously whispered once Bug was out of earshot.
“What? No! I want him,” Scott was defensive, “Did you hear his set? He said he’s bi.” Suddenly, it was anyone’s game. Later that night, when he joined us for our post-mic diner dinner, Scott and I seemed to have entered a sitcom. We were Will & Grace swinging at each other over a guy who swung both ways. Bug excused himself to the restroom and Scott and I began to bicker.
“I called dibs!” I had declared it, in fact.
“Oh right just because he lives like two blocks from you!” Scott was losing so his claws came out. “I’m in a dry spell and you have sex with people all the time!” True and more complimentary than hurtful. I eased up so that Scott could do his version of flirting (aka telling drawn out stories about murder or fun topics like it). It was going well between all three of us until Bug brought up his most fun topic: his past and hard drug use. A flag far too red for Scott. A red flag to me too, but…well what about the green ones?
“We laugh so hard!” I’d guiltily say to a friend to convince them (and myself) that a man is more than what he puts into his body, what he does with most of his time, and who he associates with. No small feat. “I either meet them on a dating app and I don’t laugh at anything but my own jokes or I meet a comic. Then, they either don’t want to date me or they’re on drugs,” I say desperately, as if those are my only choices.
“I don’t want to have sex with him, I just want to be affectionate,” I’d say. It was true. Normally, my goal would be to get laid and send him on his way. The more I laughed though, the more I liked him. I wanted hugs but he wanted drugs. It wouldn’t work. Would it? “Hey, Google…”