Here’s What Happens When You Fall In Love With The Bad Boy

Nathan Fertig
Nathan Fertig

A bad boy. Someone who stares at you with those captivating, dangerous eyes. Someone who has a good looking face that gives you more excuse to study it, ordering yourself not to take the risk of pushing further.

But you do anyway, because you’re curious. You want to know what’s lurking behind that look, and you want to understand how it can be both innocent and troublesome.

He is a guy who seems to be a walking disaster, an accident waiting to happen. Someone who perfectly embodies a beautiful tragedy. And you know better not to be associated with a person like him.

You have seen him in a movie. You have heard your friend cry over someone like him. You have read about him in articles online, in short stories, in novels you grew up loving.

But there’s always been something mysterious about a bad boy that you want to figure out.

You want to know the story behind those tattoos that are inked in his arms — What do they symbolize in his life, and what inspires him to have them be displayed permanently in his skin? You want to know what’s beating in his heart. If it gets soft, too sometimes, or if it is pained, or if it is as strong as his facade appears to be. You want to be friends with him, be near him most of the time, and test whether the stretch of your tolerance and acceptance of people are really that extensive.

Slowly by slowly, you start to develop feelings for him. Of course you’re going to be in denial at first. But damn those bad boys, because eventually you fall in love with one of them.

You fall in love with his brokenness. You want to fix him, nurture him, and cradle him in your arms until he gets better. You so badly want to heal him and help him sort his life. Because that’s what you do when you love a guy — you guide him to become a better man.

You want to be the hero who saves him, so he can love you despite his messiness.

You fall in love with his imperfections. The way he doesn’t always say the right words, the way he doesn’t live up to anyone’s measurements, and the way he doesn’t care that he’s not enough.

You fall in love with his magnetic confidence, with his free-spirited soul, and with his spontaneity.

You fall in love with his casual moves. Like how his voice sounds so calm and steady whenever he speaks about ideologies he believes in. How his eyebrows meet in the middle whenever he ponders a profound thought. How he puts his hand in your neck and kisses you softly with such ease, as if to make sure you’re comfortable. How he can pull off that cocky grin that gives you one more reason to be lost in him, in his world, in his mischievousness.

Sometimes you’re jealous of how he can express his thoughts without a filter, with no holding back. And you wish you could also live with no fears and no worries.

But a bad boy will always be a bad boy. There’s no changing him no matter how many times you convince him to follow you in a different direction. There’s no amount of Band-Aids that can mend his wounds. There’s no amount of sweet words that can fix what is wrong with his heart. There’s no amount of kindness that can make him love you more.

He is called a bad boy for a lot of reasons. He doesn’t give a crap about anything and anyone that’s against him. He’s never going to constantly check on your feelings and make sure you are okay. He will not understand your sentiments, sorrow, annoyance, happiness, excitement, hopes, or dreams. And he loves himself too much to listen to you, to care about you.

He made your worst nightmare come true, and you felt devastated. You knew it would be exciting to spend time with him, to learn a thing or two about him, and to feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins. But in the end, your heart was broken.

Because it wasn’t the kind of experience that was worth the thrill.

You wish you would have listened to your gut. You wish you would have paid attention to that one little heartbeat that gave you a warning. You wish you didn’t give him a try. You wish you restrained yourself from heading in a game that’s inevitably a loss.

You wish you didn’t become infatuated with someone who can’t be saved.

But alas, you fell to one of his kind. And you hope, now, that he is the last. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Angelo Caerlang is the author of Sparks in Broken Lights.

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