Since summer 2014, I attended group therapy every Thursday evening. The weekly check-ins provided me a safe place to vent on a regular basis without having to call up my friends in the middle of the night when shit hit the fan. Well, a couple of weeks ago, I decided it was time to move on from my weekly sessions and entrust myself to handle things on my own in the “real world.” Just two weeks post group therapy, and I am already involved in the type of shenanigans that can only be shared during a confidential group session or over wine with the bestie. Somehow, I find myself juggling two guys, one of which is great for me – which makes him less interesting and desirable, and the other who is so incredibly wrong for me that I am drawn to him like a magnet to metal. Just months out of an engagement with Mr. Wrong, I have myself thinking, “What is it I find so desirable about these so-called ‘bad’ boys?”

I believe the answer stems way back into my childhood when I was first identified as the “good” kid. Unlucky for my younger brother, “bad” kid was the only label left by the time he came around. Growing up as little Miss Goody Two-Shoes wasn’t all that bad. I mean, I got away with A LOT just by passing the blame to my poor innocent brother. I mean seriously, my parents found a pack of PINK cigarettes in MY closet, and believed me when I said they were my brothers because I would never smoke cigarettes. *insert smirking face emoji* While I may have taken advantage of my brother on numerous occasions, I was envious of him despite the trouble and chaos that followed him around. At least he gets to be himself. To this day, I envy his “I don’t give a shit” attitude.

Obviously, no person can be all good or all bad, but as a kid, the expectations that are placed on you as the “good” kid or “bad” kid really have lasting effects on the development of your identity. Like I talked about in this post and this post, a strong sense of identity is something I have always lacked. While labeled the “good” kid by my parents, teachers, bosses and the like, I have never truly felt I fit that mold. Like pretty much everyone, I have a dark side, a side that does not always do the right thing despite the opportunity to. My “bad” side starves for validation having lived in the shadow of goodness her entire life.

So what does this “bad” boy have that I so desperately desire? Well, if you ever talked to me at the beginning of a relationship, I will tell you how he is so confident and how it is so attractive that he really has a sense of who he is. He will probably have tattoos and wear leather – which doesn’t necessarily make him “bad” – but are stereotypical with being an “interesting” person, at least in my eyes. Also, he validates my “bad” side. By involving myself with him and any number of “bad” boy situations he finds himself in, I separate myself from my “good” girl persona. He is my escape from the reality that has been defined for me. Before I know it, I am hypnotized by his charm.

Unfortunately, in the past (or as I like to say, pre-therapy), I was hooked at this point. It would take months or years before I came to realize that what I perceived as confidence and charm was actually an out of control narcissistic ego. In retrospect, this isn’t all that difficult to identify. Almost every relationship I have been in has centered around some form of addiction whether it be as simple as not putting his phone down for fear of missing out or full blown alcohol and drug addictions. For the first time, I can begin to understand my codependent nature in relationships, and how I am drawn to narcissistic personality types.

Reflecting on my attitude towards my brother, I realize that I developed an association between being a “bad” boy and having confidence and a sense of identity. What I didn’t learn is that not all men with confidence truly know themselves. Even worse, many of them are often hiding from something – usually themselves, and aren’t actually confident at all. As a result of my lacking identity, I often found myself in a revolving door of relationships with notoriously “bad” boys in which I constantly sought to prove my worth and ended up lost and alone.

Only recently have I stopped seeking to prove my worth to others. Just the other night, in the arms of another “bad” boy, I caught a familiar thought, “Why do you like me?” Before the words could escape my mouth, I smiled. It is the small victories that prove that I have grown and will continue to grow. I may never be able to turn off my desire for a “bad” boy, but at least now I can take a step back and ask myself if I am really interested in him, or if I am just being fooled by my projection of what he represents to me.

Namaste.

 

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