Wednesday, 4 May 2011

The Patron St of Lost Causes

Of late I have been giving some thought to the problems with my love life and it has only just dawned on me what the problem is…I go for totally dysfunctional men. I am sure that there are no gasps of shock from people who have known me for a long time, who have been there through the ups and downs of commitment-phobes, borderline alcoholics, cheaters, people who are already attached and crazy stalker types (to name a few), but for me this has been something of a revelation.

Having given it a lot of thought I realise that I have been afflicted with this condition from a very, and I mean very early age. At the age of just five mum and I spent Christmas in Florida with a rock band (yes, that alone sounds quite dysfunctional). Now being quite an earlier starter, at five I already had a crush on one of the band members. Not only did I spend my days telling the said crush of my love and how beautiful he was, but I could already pick a dysfunctional lost cause out in a room full of men (and given the said band were a full on 80’s, leather trouser wearing, wild hair type rock band - think Bon Jovi and Europe stylee), that‘s no mean feat but I did it. My crush was approximately 26 years old and already on wife/divorce number three. Unfortunately I haven’t grown out of this, on my living room wall I have a framed picture of Jim Morrison (a man who was undoubtedly beautiful and wild but he did die in a bath, an alcoholic with a serious drug problem).

The thing that made me take stock and realise that I am playing a key role in in this exciting but disastrous love life of mine is that the past couple of months have been a dating frenzy and a pattern has arisen. Emotionally unavailable/functioning alcoholic/inability to commit? Men with any of these criteria have been pretty much guaranteed a second date, if they’ve managed to be all three and possibly more I’m practically planning the wedding.

On the other hand I have also been on dates with some men that my mother would seriously approve of self sufficient/no major emotional issues/ability to commit to something more than three days in advance and what’s my response? ‘Run Becky run’ and I’m away faster than Forrest Gump.

As I am writing this I am laughing but in reality it is a bit of a problem and the problem lies at my door. As much as people might say ‘it’s not you it’s them’ I have finally taken responsibility and am prepared to stand up and say “hello I am Becky and I am a commitment-phobe”. Allegedly admitting it is the first step to recovery.

I remember reading in a glossy women’s magazine that if you fear commitment you subconsciously give out signals to men who won’t/can’t commit. This explains recent attractions to men who live anywhere but the West Midlands. I have decided that it is my fear of the mundane that causes this. The deep down fear that one day like the majority of other people in the world my evenings will be spent sitting on a sofa, eating dinner, watching soaps and arguing over washing-up. Hey I know that’s normal every day life, but if as a five year old your spend your time on tour buses with rock bands how are you ever meant to want the mundane?

So I am going to try and learn from the friends I see who are happy, that funny, caring ,willing to commit men can be just as much fun as the wild ones. From this point forward maybe looking dreamily at my Jim Morrison picture thinking of what could have been if I had been born in another era is as wild as it’s going to get. Well maybe after just one weekend with a crazy, fickle, wild man I met at the weekend who lives south of the Watford Gap.