I was watching Sex and The City the other day. The episode when Carrie goes to therapy and realizes that she chooses the wrong men. Or rather, is told so by her therapist. It got a little too real for me when I watched it, since lately I’ve come to terms with that I am Carrie. It’s disturbing, because she’s fucking annoying, but I see more resemblance for every episode I watch. The difference between me and Bradshaw though is I have way better self-perception than her and don’t need to pay 350 bucks to have someone with a fancy Ivy League degree tell me I pick the wrong guys. This is something I’ve come to accept about myself over the last couple of years. I’m legitimately self destructive and to play with fire (aka my own emotions) is my favorite hobby. I mean I guess we all have a type, right? Some are humans who actually treat you with respect and kindness. Mine are tall brunettes that are bad on paper, but good on photos. Some call them assholes. I like to call them… challenges. But they’re really funny though! Most of the time.
My latest challenge is a musician who from time to time tends bar around Brooklyn. A few weekends ago, after having eyed him for hours as he poured up beers, I scribbled down “I think you’re really fucking hot” followed by my number on a dirty napkin and gave it to him. A little surprised, yet extremely satisfied with myself, I got a text the day after from him complimenting my forwardness. Or okay, he said I was sexy and that what was written on the note was a lovely discovery. He’s probably the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, which makes it really hard for me to be rational here, but he seems like a fun dude. However I am aware of the fact that he’s most likely bad fucking news, but I’m convinced that it will be worth it. Mostly I feel like I owe it to my 18 year old self who never got laid to pursue this soon to be heartbreak.
It ain’t easy. Not being attracted to good guys. Nice guys. Guys who care about me. Imagine how great my life would be if I were? No worries, no disappointment, no sitting at home staring at my phone while waiting for them to text. Just kidding. I don’t do that. Just sometimes. Honestly though, is there something wrong with me? Here I’ve been thinking my childhood with two loving parents and one annoying little brother in the vanilla suburbs of Stockholm had been a healthy one. But did something go wrong somewhere?
Then again, I’m only 24 years old. When my mom was my age she was about to push me out. And I have to say, as much as I respect my mom's life choices and love that she is young and will be around for much longer to nag me about my bad posture, failing economy and lazy manners, that’s pretty depressing. Aren’t I supposed to have fun and sow my wild oats while it’s still somewhat acceptable by society? Because that’s the thing, I do enjoy seeing these Challenges. They’re fun. They’re easy. And you know what? So am I. I find being a young single woman really difficult from time to time. It's not something that’s encouraged or supported. Not even by ourselves. As soon as we meet someone who would be a great guy to just have fun with, we tell each other to be careful so that we won’t get hurt. It’s pretty fucking annoying in my opinion. Why aren’t we telling each other to be careful to not hurt the guy? Cause there's a risk we might.
Just look at Carrie, whom I’ll now accept as my new spirit animal, she crushed the heart of the perfect man. In case you're not following; Aidan, because some people tend to think he was the perfect one. But he wasn’t for her. So she cheated on him with a Challenge. In case you're not following again: Mr. Big, the challenge and love of her life. It might have been going a little overboard, but we all know Carrie would never not choose to be dramatic. And still, it’s a pretty fair point to my argument that some women are not into "good guys". We’re into challenges. And it’s not about picking the wrong men. It’s about breaking the notion that all women are looking for the same thing.
So... Why don't we stop feeling ashamed? For having slept with many men. For keeping numbers to guys we barely remember the name of and from time to time even text them (fact: I have a number to a "brunette with dimples" in my phone book who I've met up with more than once). For not always wanting to be in a relationship. For being perfectly great on our own. And while we do that, let's also stop telling each other to be careful and instead telling each other to do whatever the fuck we want. Because men are awesome and we should enjoy them as much as we can. And who knows, maybe once or twice a challenge is completed and then that will be perfect. Or as Carrie would say: “Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with them.”
And you know, until then: fuck em’ and chuck ‘em.