Stop dating wrong guys roots dating
I recently came across a photo of a sexy Brazilian man I had an affair with a few years ago.(OK, I Googled him.) When I saw his sly smile and unruly black hair, I couldn't help thinking that, by comparison, my live-in boyfriend wasn't quite as darkly seductive or exciting.By our second month of dating, Peter told me he loved me, that I was beautiful, that he liked my shoes, and that he was the luckiest man in the world to find me.We didn't always have the pyrotechnic chemistry of a one-night stand, but we had a constant warmth that made me want to cuddle up next to him.
I thought our fling was the start of a relationship; he thought it was a fling, period. I would fall for a brilliant guy with an irresistible smile who never quite fell for me but who possessed all the qualities I liked in a man: a sense of humor, certified smarts, smoldering looks.
At the same time, it made me incredibly anxious: I loved hearing Peter's offbeat observations about music and architecture, watching him rewire the lighting in my apartment, listen- ing to his boyish laugh—but where was that manic streak of irresponsibility I craved? I didn't have to try to pin down an artistic, wandering soul to persuade him to love me, or clamor for his attention.
Without that, the romance seemed to lose a certain thrill.
The next day, too scared to call, I texted Peter that I loved him, too.
He came over and crowed about it, then insisted I tell him out loud. And the more he feels secure, the more he's game for new adventures: going to Patagonia and Mexico, hosting parties, learning to ski.
Each time, these men—dashing chefs, moody architects—would give me just enough attention to keep me in their narcissistic orbit.