Never Date Crazy
That is some generally good advice that I’ve never been able to really listen to. For some reason, throughout my entire adult life, I’ve found psychotic, raving lunatics to be incredibly attractive. I’ve never really been sure what caused this. I had a fairly normal childhood, with a pretty awesome family. There is nothing in my life that I can remember that should cause me to be a complete nutso that is only attracted to other nutsos.
Or so I thought.
I was goofing around on twitter, and sort of nodding off, when this strange thought came from somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain, Have I seen all of the Free Willy movies? (The answer to which is No. Apparently they made four of these movies!) Of course, by the laws of the internet, I am required to tweet anything I think, thus fulfilling the purpose of the twitter hivemind. So I did. Somehow, from this simple thought, emerged a conversation between myself and my friend, Cooking Comrade, about early Hollywood crushes. At this point, something along the lines of 17 years of repressed memories flooded to the surface, and I realized the root of my problems with the crazy women.
Christina Ricci as Wednesday Adams.
That’s right. My first celebrity crush was on a psychotic, sociopathic goth chick 3 years my senior. Looking back over the last 11 years of my dating history, it all starts to make sense. All of the women I’ve dated have been somewhat mousy and eventually discovered to kill puppies for fun.
In fact, I’ve gone so far as to redact some of my statements here for fear that I might get sleep shanked. Sleep shanking would be bad, and not at all pleasant.
Maybe now that I’ve identified my root, I can begin the healing process. In time I might even be able to find love with a woman that isn’t an escapee from a mental institute.
Someday, we can all dream.