About Nude Not Naked

Dedicated to Kenny and his
Because Good Girls Like Bad Boys entry.



... and this is how the story goes.

From the time you were born till the time you started to read at five, you were bombarded with fairytales of how the princess (that means you, you, YOU, when you are an ego centric 5 year old) found her true love (a handsome dashing prince on a white horse) and she was swept off her feet. All problems were resolved (from Snow White’s problem with her seven miniature landlords to Cinderella’s domestic woes) and like all fairytales, you were told that you would live happily ever after when you find your true love (of course, you must have a pure heart, be locked up in a tower and/or poisoned – whichever came first)

Fast forward to the time your hormones started to kick in. You fancied this cute boy in biology class. He helped you dissect the frog and even held your hand when you felt faint. Oh bless his soul, his beautiful smile and gorgeous eyes, you whispered to yourself. You confessed your love for him by the end of the term. He looked like an angel and to many girls, he was.

Then you found out, through a friend of a friend of a friend (who happened to be your classmate in Form Five, who also happened to accused you of flirting with HER boyfriend) that he had another girlfriend. You cried and begged him to stay with you. All you wanted was to be loved and to have all the problems go away. You promised you would do anything for him. Anything, anything! You would do anything because you love him.

So you shagged him. He broke your hymen and five days later, your heart. He said he was still young and needed to go out with more chicks. He said this, then turned around, wrapped himself in the chick with the big tits’ arms and walked away. You cried for days and days, comforted by your best friend (and some ice cream). You phoned him, stalked him and cried in front of the pub on your knees, when he left with the girl for the night.

You swore you would not have sex again until you could find THE ONE. You started college and dated the most handsome pair of jeans you laid your eyes on. You were the golden couple during your first year and everyone thought that you two were perfect together. You were so excited that you were dating the most popular guy that you made the exuse, “Oh I bruise easily” when friends asked of the blue black spots on your arms. Mr. Popular was unknown to everyone else, also Mr. Jealous, who freaked out whenever he thought guys were staring at you.

You took the slaps and shakes quietly. You wanted to leave him but you did not want to ruin the perfect persona, would you? As months pass by, you gained new friends and along with them, came new freedom and support. You learnt to toughen your heart. You learnt to be strong and to do what was right for you. And finally, you broke up with Mr. Popular.

One weekend some moons later, you attended a party and a friend introduced you to Six. It was all about Six from that moment. There was just that something extra about him. Maybe it was his eyes, always wild and wandering. He made you cream in your panties and that was what he did - creaming your panties and was probably the only one thing he was truly good in. He chained smoked and slept through the day. He went out late nights and said he was practicing with his band mates at 3 a.m.

Once, you waited for an hour for him to arrive and when he did, you were so happy, you swept any doubt under the carpet. He was yours and yours only. He was a free spirit and he was waiting for the golden opportunity to come knocking. Till then, he practiced - practiced HARD on Dilla, Grace and Kendie (you knew this but you chose to ignore it). And he borrowed money from you and your friends. You felt so privileged that he was with you. How cool can it be that you will one day be Mrs. Better Than Robbie Williams? Way cool.

“You are fat and ugly,” he said again and again. Soon you look into the mirror and believed him. You could not look yourself in the mirror without throwing up. The shine in your eyes was gone and you did not know who you were. You knew who you were but you did not want to admit to yourself, what you were. So you hid yourself from you.

You graduated from college with a degree and applied for a job. You bought a small car soon enough but he was still a band boy, going nowhere and had no job. His eyes were watery and your money was missing. You kept quiet and hoped everything will go away. All you have ever wanted from childhood was a man to fall in love with you and when he does, everything would be fine. But nothing seemed to be working...

397 screaming marathons, 128 silent treatments, 51 door slams, 1 bruised eye later, he walked out on you. But you did not really care anymore. You did not care because you could not feel your heart beat anymore. You were alive but yet, you felt dead inside. And you were seeing the the cute guy who helped you adjust into single life again. Tough luck on being single because you two became an item six months later.

He was not as good looking at Mr. Heart Breaker neither was he macho like Mr. Bum Around. But he was considerate and sweet and he helped you feel whole again. He was soon replaced with the guy who was all of those and a little bit more. He was smart and had a brighter future. Did not matter that his hairline was receding or that he did not own the flashiest car.

Ok, so you dated Mr. Flashiest Car on the side while maintaining the relationship with Good Boyfriend Number One. You found out that he loved his car more than you. Actually you rated third, after his car and his football team. And he had a funny thing about toilet seats.

You learnt to be tough. And sometimes mean. These were the self-preservation methods to sieving out the lambs from the goats. Never in your childhood or bedtime story sessions, have you imagined yourself quantifying love the way you did when you were twenty six years old, working in your second job.

So dumped Mr. Flashiest Car and back to Good Boyfriend Number One then. You learnt a good lesson. Sometimes the heat of the chase burnt more than tyres. Perhaps it is better to stick to the better man. And the better man comes along, which you exchanged for Mr. Better Better Man and again for Mr. Honestly Sweet. You broke his heart but what the heck. Life is short and it made sense to find a suitable partner. Men are sowing their seeds to widen their gene pool, so you ought to widen your gene pool by protecting yourself, right?

You worked hard and played hard. Who is to tell you that you do not deserve a good man? You don’t want a second-hand man. You want the best for your best. It is only wise to lookout for yourself. Who else is going to lookout for you, if not yourself? You learnt not to care for physical traits but to discern when it came to matters concerning the heart. After all, love is from one heart to another. What had it to do with how he looked, whether he was popular/cool or what car he drove or whether he stayed in the most desirable postcode?

You learnt about yourself. You learnt to accept yourself, (just the way you are) by the time you blew your 27, 28 and 29 candles on your birthday cakes. You know what you want - what makes you tick and what makes you laugh. You were comfortable during periods when you were single and alone. You were fine when you were a couple.

And finally after going through probably five serious relationships, two part-time relationships (maybe a one night stand) and one fuck mate later, you found THE ONE. After trawling through the whole fish market, you found that ONE fish who swam into your heart (and panties but that is a different story, worthy of another Otto entry).

Well he is not as good looking as Mr. Suave. Or charismatic as Mr. Popular. He is not as dashing as Mr. Heart Breaker or had crazy hair like Mr. Band Boy. But you know what?

He has the best of intentions and he knew how to keep your heart safe. He was always there to catch you when you felt weak. He made you smile. He respects your thoughts and puts you first whenever he decides on something. You adore him to bits, him and his eccentricities. He is also the only one who could make you say, “I do” without you thinking that you must have gone mad.

And you did. And here you are sitting on the sofa while he is engrossed in his EPL score, grinning and knowing in your heart – Girls, you’ve gotta be bad to get the good.




*****
Short Talk
It is because of bad boys that girls learn to be tougher when it comes to matters pertaining to the heart. I predict the day when girls will spit boys out like watermelon seeds as the roles of the sexes become more and more equal.

And soon, you will hear girls say, "See he is a guy I'd like to go and party with. But I will never bring him home or marry him" and truly mean it. I know I did.
*****