Bad boys are just for fun

I constantly remind myself that bad boys are just for fun.

When a friend and I were at a club watching a band the other night, we were both looking at the guitar player. He had shoulder-length curly black hair that fell over his eyes while he played. His lip snarl was very Billy Idol-esque. His songs were our favorites - he did some killer Prince.

We thought he was hot and looked like a bad boy. She said she'd get after him with a pair of scissors to get rid of the hair in his face. I liked him just the way he was.

She and I are both bad-boy magnets. Sometimes we like it, but we know it's bad. We've both had more than our fair share.

The next night, she and I, along with some other good friends ended up at a local diner for a late-night breakfast. A guy who had been at the pub came along. He was a friend of one of the guys with us and pretty nice looking. But he was a bad boy. I could tell he liked me because his hand kept finding its way onto my leg. He told me about the fight he just had with his girlfriend and said he doesn't love her anymore. He wants her move out of his condo.

"So, tell her," I said.

"I'm trying," he answered.

He may be the nicest guy on the planet, but as long as his hand's on my leg and he reaches his fork over to eat off my plate while his girlfriend lives with him, he's a bad boy. Without question.

I've had enough fun with bad boys for a while, so these two are staying at a safe distance while I wait for the bad boy who's really good.

Love to the single girls,
Addison