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 (more…)