My type - part one

She's Kerosene by the Interrupters (a band I know next to nothing about). I do know they're on Hellcat Records, under the Epitaph label, which was started by Brett Gurewitz of Bad Religion fame. Tim Armstrong of Operation Ivy and Rancid (and probably a 100 other projects) directed the video. I don't normally listen to ska, but I did once upon a time. It's more fun than straight-up punk rock or hardcore. 

The reason I posted this video is mostly in the lyrics. The girl in question — my type — is embedded there. Years, ago I read something in one of those stupid Life's Little Instruction books that said something to the effect of "Don't date a girl who has more trouble than you." Turns out, it wasn't such a stupid instruction. Lesson learned.

Lyrics: 

I’m a match, she’s kerosene
you know she’s gonna burn down everything
she’s an arsonist, in a  past time,
and I’ve been burned for the last time

It started out like any other morning,
the sky was red, he took it as a warning
she kicked the hive now the bees are swarming
then played the victim 'til the crowd starts forming
she’s got a history of making a scene,
yeah she’s telling stories, she’s gaslighting
like he’s the executioner and she is the queen,
but he’s the one whose neck is in a guillotine,

he said I’m a match, she’s kerosene,
you know she’s gonna burn down everything
she’s an arsonist, in a  past time,
and I’ve been burned for the last time

the smoke clears out and he’s been awakened.
he said this life could be mine for the taking
she needs a drink so she starts shaking,
and plays the victim 'til his heart starts breaking
no real tears cause she don’t mean it,
this landscape used to be so scenic
and he could make it out if he could dream it
rising up from the ash, he’s a phoenix

I’m a match, she’s kerosene,
you know she’s gonna burn down everything
she’s an arsonist, in a  past time,
and I’ve been burned for the last time
you play with me, you're playin' with fire

Traditionally, my type has been the tomboy, devil-may-care, tough girls. You know, the kind of girls you can't break. 

It's a put-on, of course. We're all infinitely breakable, more breakable than we realize. We're all made of the same thing. If a woman evinces a tough-girl facade, chances are very good she's lying to you. And herself. And you don't want to be with a liar because liars suck. 

A few years ago I worked with a 19-year-old girl who came on to me a few times. She actually started working there when she was 18, still in high school, but she had so many schedule restrictions I never worked with her. When I did finally work with her, she reminded me of someone I used to know, which softened me toward her. I say that because I was a hardass, and I treated my co-workers pretty roughly. I wanted them to do their damn jobs and that's all. JUST DO YOUR JOB! 

Well, maybe she saw she could get under my skin, so she did. Turns out, she was just like my ex-wife when I first met her. What a mess she was: promiscuous, manipulative, brash and cold one minute, soft as a kitten the next. Most of all, she was deeply insecure. And she wanted to fuck me. I say this not to brag but to point out how inappropriate she could be. She said she wished she had been born at a different time, that she didn't even like the music of her generation. It was like a scene out of Beautiful Girls, with Natalie Portman's character saying she'd be 18 in a few years. 

No, I wasn't about to fuck her. There's nothing flattering about a promiscuous girl saying she wants to have sex with you. And even though I was looking for a way out of my marriage, I knew that wasn't the way. And, most importantly, I didn't want to get with a girl who reminded me of the very person I wanted to leave. Fuck that. 

Let's back up. It all started with Kristin, my babysitter's daughter. She was a year older than me, and I looked up to her. I thought she was amazing. She became what I looked for in women for a long time. She was a tomboy, of course, and she knew everything. She was fun and physical and wanted to show me cool things. She was a playmate in the true sense of the word, and I'm sure she has no idea how much she influenced my taste in women in the coming decades, a taste I've finally rinsed out of my mouth. 

I want to say something kind of weird here. I've been cheated on. It wasn't the worst thing to happen to me. The cheating was easily forgiven and then forgotten. There were other things that hurt me worse. What I want to say is this: cheating is a state of mind, not always a behavior. What my ex-wife did and still does, she doesn't even know what she's doing, I'm sure. She just gets a little too comfortable with people. It's one thing to be friendly. It's another thing to extract meaning from other people.

Maybe if she never cheated on me it wouldn't have bothered me, but it was like salt in the wound, so to speak. It made a fleeting decision like cheating last forever. I don't know who can live in an aura of constant cheating, or what feels like constant cheating. And if your partner never renounces their actions or even knows what they're doing, it makes it worse. Clearly, and it may only be clear to me and no other, I had to leave that relationship. It reinforces my theory that cheaters will always cheat. There is something missing in them that they want to fill with other people. If they can't get it from you, they'll get it from someone else. For them, traditional boundaries don't exist. Even though my ex professes she's changed, that she'd never do those things again, it will always be a lie. It's an inseparable part of her personality. Even if she could change, the damage has been done. I've washed my hands of her and walked away, even though it took everything I had. 

My type is no longer my type. I have love for only one; whatever she is, she's my type.