On giving yourself permission…to be bad.

When I reflect on the tumultuous romantic relationships I’ve had in 2013, I realize that there’s a huge theme here.

For the first time in my life, I’m allowing myself to get involved with the following (THIS IS SO NOT ME):

politically incorrect men; masculine men with high sex drives; “married men”; emotionally unavailable men; men with illegal professions; and men who get into physical fights with other men; not nice guys; players;

bad boys.

And because I’m with them,

I’m being bad, too.

Lover #1 whom consumed me in early 2013 was an ex-drug dealer with a short fuse and mental health issues so intense that the social worker in me diagnosed him as manic depressive. But really, he was hypo-manic. In retrospect I realized I met him when he was just coming out of a major depressive episode. He had no idea though that he had any issues. He just thought he was “extra chatty”, activity-focused and a “bad boy” as opposed to having major anger management issues.

Lover #2 whom I’m still wrapped up in is a bad boy. The night I met him I sensed that he and his friends were “players”, disrespectful towards women. On top of it, I heard he might be married. Then when he told me he was an “import-export” car dealer I was like can you get any shadier??

But part of me loved it. Part of me loved it because it was “bad.” Exciting, mysterious, unpredictable, and

bad.

And when I told my friends that I was sleeping with an asshole (Lover #2), one friend of mine said:

“love it, it’s kind of masochistic but if you’re into it, go for it.”

When I cried to my sister, “what the fuck am I doing with this guy?” she told me:

“you’re having casual sex with a huge power struggle. You guys have always had this power struggle from the onset and if you’ve reached your limit then that’s fine, but if you’re into it, that’s okay too.”

These two sentences have given me so much breathing room and space to digest and process what I’m doing with Lover #2. After the way he treated me, the old me would be totally done, no regrets, no questions, what an asshole, no looking back…but the new me has given myself permission to:

not perceive the situation as so black and white; to acknowledge that part of me likes this fucked up dynamic; to welcome the fact that he can still be an asshole but the sex can be hot; to take responsibility for my own role in this; to understand that people like him can be contradictions in that he can be so likeable and deplorable at the same time; to accept that I like someone like him; to accept that I like it cause’ it’s “bad”.

The new me has given myself permission to “be bad” and it’s okay. It doesn’t mean that “I’m a bad person” and that’s the mature distinction that I’ve come away with. Breathe.

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One thought on “On giving yourself permission…to be bad.

  1. Pingback: On Daddy Issues. | anotherthirtysomethingblogger

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