It's official: I have a type.

(And that type is- criminal).

Let's just pretend for a minute that people are always truthful and that denying something that were true would result in a painful shock to your bits and pieces until the truth had been set free.

Still with me?

I've talked about the randomness that is my existence and every now and then the subject of "dating" or "relationships" have popped in (as they often do) and I've rambled about them a tad here and there. I've never really known why none of my "relationships" have not worked out (except that one, I know what happened there- that dude was a dick), and I've never really even had the desire to know, but I tend to not put too much thought into it, because why in the hell would I want to?

After all, I can use the fact that all of my "exes" are douche canoes, but the only common denominator in all of those "relationships" were me. So, even though those guys are assholes (and trust me when I say that they are), I still picked them. Therefore, I am partially responsible for the upending of every one of them.

I don't think all guys are assholes, there are some real good ones out there, but I clearly don't pick them. My fault. Seriously, no matter which way you spin it- my fault.

And no, I'm not taking all of the blame and trying to be one of those "it was my fault that guy was bad to me", because they could have just been decent people and not done it in the first place, but I am the one that chose to stay until I finally reached my breaking point and was like- AHHHHHHHH........

But I digress.

Mostly, because I'm not exactly making myself sound good here (honesty can kick you in the nads at times), but also, because I've chosen not to date in a long time, because deep down I've always known what kind of guy I end up being attracted to. And frankly, I'm getting too damn old and I'm way too tired to deal with that shit.

And I've always known, but shoved it deep down in the back of my mind and pit of my stomach, because people will usually agree with yours, but never admit their own faults.

But finally while I was drunkenly watching Justified the other night, I admitted it. My type is: Boyd Crowder. Criminal.

Quit judging. I don't seek out criminals on purpose, they just so happen to find me and ask if they can buy me a drink. And next thing I know, I'm on the back of a questionable three-wheeler downing tequila and wondering why I haven't hung out with this guy before. And then somewhere around, probably a week in, I realize why. Because that dude is shady as hell.

And in full disclosure, that particular dude was really fun and we're still friends, so that probably makes me a little shady to, but we're going to go with I just like people with "colorful" personalities. However, I don't like to get into their "shady business" so I usually part ways long before all of that. Do I know what they're up to and what the plan is? Nope. Nor do I want to, but let's be honest. You can know nothing about a person, but spend less than five minutes with them and tell if they're living in the shade of life.

Unfortunately, I wasn't attracted to any of them as much as I am to Boyd Crowder..... Or, is that fortunate? But none of them were as smart, cool, suave, hysterical, attractive, or loving as Boyd either, so we'll call it a draw. And don't get me wrong, I know that I'm not exactly a "catch", but I feel like maybe I do deserve not to get shot in the face, because the dude I'm kind of seeing thinks that he's smarter than he actually is.

Spoiler alert: He never is.

And while most girls go through their "bad boy" phase at around sixteen, with a boy that might ride a motorcycle or has tattoos, that phase usually ends long before their eighteenth birthday. Lessons are learned and hearts are a little broken, but you move on, because you guys were "just a couple of kids."

Unless you're me. And I didn't start going through that "phase" until I was eighteen. Do you know what happens when you don't hit that "phase" until your eighteenth birthday? I'll tell you, it doesn't become a "phase" but instead a "pattern." Until you eventually learn that you're effing stupid and you need to stop while you're ahead.

Mission. Accomplished.