ExposedNYC

I’ve decided that choosing a relationship is kind of like deciding what to eat- we all know what’s good for us, are inexplicably drawn to what’s bad for us, and hope to settle into a happy medium somewhere in the middle.

There’s the ones we know are good for us- the nice guys that friends are always convinced would be a perfect match because “they’re such nice guys”. These guys are like the green vegetables of the dating world. They’ll probably keep your blood pressure down, but when’s the last time you ran out of the house at 2:00am because you were craving brussel sprouts? They may be good for you, but there’s no excitement in the process. Plus, I’m always a little suspect that the girlfriend who wants to introduce you somehow didn’t snatch him up for herself.

Then there are the junk food guys. They may as well be candy at the supermarket checkout aisle or movie theater popcorn- you know you’re not going to feel better once you’ve had them, but there’s still something so appealing about the thought of devouring something forbidden. I’m currently fighting my fast-food craving for a fling with a new bartender I work with.

His breath must be laced with chocolate because all I want when I’m around him is a glance, a smile, some sort of special attention. We got into a conversation that lasted for hours after closing the bar the other night, one that continued through after-hours drinks with our co-workers and into brunch for two as the sun came up, before we went our separate ways. I learned that he’s made up of some undesirable ingredients- a slight obsession with his ex-girlfriend and affinity for talking about himself to start- but he’s candy-coated in intelligence and charisma, and I somehow can’t seem to fill myself up with thoughts of anyone else.

I know I’m setting myself up for disappointment. Eating the entire contents of an Easter basket as a kid always left me with a stomach ache so why should the adult equivalent be any different. Unfortunately, this is coming from someone who has been to the corner deli in pajamas and zero make-up to fulfill a late-night urge for watermelon and potato chips in the past week, so I’m doing my best to hold tight to my willpower. What would be the exercise equivalent to combating the results of unhealthy relationship indulgences?

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