The Bad Boyfriend

Some of you may be familiar with the frequency with which I use this analogy. Anything unpleasant, irritating, or pain-inducing can be likened to the bad boyfriend. Car not starting on that frigid winter morning? Bad boyfriend. Disgruntled professor gives you a B? Very bad boyfriend.* Is your writing not pouring onto the page as quickly as you would like? Awful, terrible, horrible boyfriend. How dare he.

But to qualify for the upper tiers of bad boyfriendhood, the act or thing in question must be something you would otherwise adore or is somehow instrumental to your plans. Being at once utterly desirable and infuriating, it must leave you in an agonized limbo of indecision in which you wax nostalgic for the good times but yearn to break free of its tyrannical dominion over your life. Most especially it must disappoint you the moment you decide to "work things out", but, then, strengthened with your new-found resolve to end it, the bad boyfriend will regain its charm and worm its way back into your cold, dark little heart.

See? I have it all worked out.

The original inspiration for the bad boyfriend analogy was, of course, my puppy Sirus (pictured above). He was the worst but cutest of boyfriends, and had the unfortunate habit of not only driving me insane, but of trying to bite people. Of scaling fences, just so he could BITE PEOPLE. It was a problem, naturally one with a very expensive fix. Or, I should say, a very expensive possibility of a fix. For only a hundred and fifty dollars an hour, I could have a trainer look at my dog and tell me whether we would be giving her a lot more money, or, you know, putting him to sleep.  

Bad boyfriend indeed. I didn't want to know whether we should put him to sleep, so I would constantly reschedule the appointment and cry, clutching Sirus's confused and soggy head in my lap. I hated that dog for being such an asshole. But I certainly didn't want him to die.

I'll just ruin the ending and tell you straight out that Sirus met his soulmate, aka my father, and they are now living their happily-ever-after complete with overflowing food bowls, squirrels, and the white picket fence. This was a miraculous last-minute save, and all of us (not least the various victims of his chompings) were very happy.

Even though Sirus is no longer with us, the bad boyfriend analogy still lingers, manifesting itself in unwritten papers, petulant children, and the cat that occasionally relieves itself in your shoes. Naturally, there are actual bad boyfriends, of which I have little experience but am nevertheless quite convinced of their existence. These are the people who prompt their lovers to write in to advice columnists every day with opening sentences such as, "I am in love with the most wonderful, amazing, great, super, fantastic guy, but he cheats on me, like, all the time." Obviously, using the bad boyfriend analogy with these folks isn't very funny. Why? Because it isn't an analogy anymore. Keep up.

Anyway. I only brought this up because my laptop, my soul, my lifeline, has broken all previous records of bad boyfriendness to become the Greatest Bad Boyfriend that Ever Was. And I hate it. But I love it so.

*I am not in any way, shape, or form implying that any professor, living or dead, is, was, or ever has been,  disgruntled.