20nothing.com

I lost friends when I admitted to having a crush on Good Charlotte’s enigmatic front man Joel Madden. No one really understood why I was lusting after a pop-punk musician[?] who once dated Hilary Duff.
“You can do better,” my girl friend told me. “What about George Clooney? He is a good celebrity crush to have.”
But I couldn’t be reasoned with. I wanted to play connect-the-tattoos on Joel’s arms and wear my hat backwards. I didn’t have any feelings of attraction towards his identical twin brother, but, I realized, sometimes you just can’t explain why you like someone.

Everyone has someone in their life they are besotted with to the point of confusion for everyone else around them. I first saw my ex-boyfriend across the room at a No Clothes Party and leaped in his general direction with a lighter when I saw that he smoked.
“That is my Kryptonite right there,” I told my boy friend as I flew through the air dressed in a garbage bag.
After we broke-up, every person I have ever met decided to regale me with their opinion and question how I could be so in love/obsessed/bendy with someone who had such little respect for me.
But I couldn’t be reasoned with. I had made my mind up that He was perfect and connecting the dots that he was anything but wasn’t an option.

I have lost friends because I wouldn’t consider dating them.
“But you were with Him,” they have stated. “I would never do that to you.”
Eligible, employed and enigmatic grown-ups had nothing on the fun, flighty and fucked-up boyfriend of yesteryear and I could totally understand their frustration. When He replaced Me with someone else, I spent hours (read: months) wondering what superhuman qualities She had that I didn’t possess. Comparing myself to someone who had what I wanted was an easy distraction as focusing on the pain of my individual shortcomings was too much. But eventually I had to cut Him out of my life. I was tired of explaining to people why I believed in Him and logic eventually won the battle.

Boomerangs have always fascinated me.
“You mean to tell me that I can just throw it away and then it will come back and hit me in the head?”
I have never been dextrous or coordinated enough to catch a boomerang on the point of return. And I have never been strong enough to walk away from the boy who got away.
“Why would you even consider talking to Him again after what He did?” my boy friend yelled when I informed him that I was flying to Krypton once again.
“Because,” I explained. “I see something that you don’t.”
The people who really get under our skin are never the perfect ones, the ones who fit into our friends, societies or the music industries image of perfection. Instead, they are the ones who were brave enough to expose all of their flaws to us alone and, I think, the longevity of feelings stems from a place of respect for that type of honesty. The rawness hits you in a place you didn’t know existed and, while everyone around you wants to knock sense into you, you fly away and stay true to yourself.

Like any Good Charlotte song ever released, I knew it wasn’t going to sound pleasant when I informed that people who do respect me that I am considering meeting with the person who doesn’t.
“You can do better,” my girl friend told me. “You don’t have to see someone just because you loved them once upon a time.”
I admitted she was right.
“But,” I confessed, “Sometimes you just can’t explain why want to do something.”
You just have to remember to not touch the Kryptonite.