Mr. Right, Mr. Oh So Wrong, and Mr. Jesus Christ What The Hell Was I Thinking!

So, he looked really good on paper. Like, really good. He was a med-student...brains, check...he had superb taste in music...rock and or roll, check...and he could keep up with me in conversation....wit, check check. Unfortunately, his inability to communicate, his level of self-absorption had reached peak levels by the time I got around to him...we are talking threat level midnight, people and he morphed rather quickly into a petulant and garrulous child. The problem being he had never been told no, had no empathy and thought that everyone else was wrong. I despised him far too quickly and yet wasted far too much energy attempting to understand his nature and what I was doing poorly. My bad. Then came Mr. Wrong...by the way, all of this fabulous wasting of time occurred in about two months...is this dating? Ugh, get me the F out. I'm also trying to subdue my swearing. Speaking of subdued, back to Oh So...he was a slightly more mature gentleman...in his forties. I know what you're thinking, ew...but he was hot. Super hot body and not remotely bad in the face. Again though, not once asking me a single, solitary question of myself(don't think he was self-absorbed, just inept) he spoke only of his past mistakes and failed relationships. He was quite contrary. Girls can have that effect? Who knew? So he had lots o money, property, a nice car, all the accoutrement's a man in his forties should have cuz if you don't you're either useless or addicted to something that siphons all your cash. Don't get me wrong, none of this impresses me. It is however important to be stable...shows your maturity level, which this fella had in spades. Hmmm, maybe he wasn't oh so wrong but Mr. Right afterall...anyway...there was zero chemistry. Zilch, Nada, Bupkis. He brought up his baggage in every conversation which would usually kill a mood, if there ever came a time there was one. So, rather mutually, we just kinda stopped speaking to one another. I see him from time to time, we wave and carry on our ways. Then, duh...duh... duhnduhn...not worse than Mr. Right but such a mistake nonetheless. My mistake cuz he has my phone #...luckily though not a clue where I reside...yeah, that kinda guy. Everything is off with this guy...I try to save the damaged ones but this dude is fubar. I may have to change my number...I'll keep you posted. What is wrong with your gender? You refuse to exit your bubble to ask a thoughtful question intended for the opposite sex, you refuse to admit fault, and your ability to manage a life with stability and normalcy seems a foreign concept. Perhaps it is I who needs to accept fault. My "picker" is off. 'Cept, I do not choose to make the move on these dolts. They come to me, I acquiesce and end up having to hide where I live and change my phone number. All three of these fuck-ups were terrible kissers as well...just bloody awful. Company is no longer going to suffice...my dream man is on the docket now. No more wasting precious moments and my awesome kissing techniques on self-centered douche bags who were pushed off the tit too soon(maybe not soon enough for some); Boys trapped in a man body with no bearing on life, love or communication. I offer a lot and expect at least the same in return...no more slumming.