Loser City, Winner Town

I'm the type of person most people hate. All my sibs took piano lessons, but I was a natural at it. Tried out for basketball, became co-captain, tried out for the swim team, made nationals. I decided I wanted to sing, and I passed every audition that came my way. Tried out for plays, got mostly leads. Am not even half bad at my chosen profession, crowded though the field may be. Money comes easily and life, well, I used to think I had it all figured out.

Yet somehow, I always pick the losers. The guys who leave. The ones who don't have it in them to stay the course. The ones who get distracted. The one whose insecurities are like those aliens in monster flicks whose tentacles suddenly burst out of their host chest and ensnare everyone within reach -- which usually meant me. Even had one whose sexual deviations could inspire countless talk show hosts' top tens. The look on his face when I said "No" was priceless, as he was in the process of showing off his toys while talking about his mother. I'm a magnet for every nut case and a sucker for their stories.

But the worst of the lot aren't the weirdos -- I didn't come off the assembly line myself -- its the ones who look normal and act normal that do the most damage. They're the ones who do everything right... at the start. They know the rules of etiquette, pull out your chair, love your family, help you across the street, wonder at the losers who let you go. These creatures lull you into complacency. They make you believe that a future is possible. That maybe, just maybe you finally got it right, after kissing so many frogs.

If you're lucky, you get an explanation when they leave. Some say they couldn't stand the competition (huh? it was a contest to see who is more successful?), one was married and I never knew (that was MY idiocy), jealousy (again, huh?). A couple have said I scared them. One in particular said he couldn't stand that he could never win an argument.

I guess its because I'm stubborn that I can't understand this walking away business. While some things have come easy, on the important things, the ones I really want, I work on it. I map out strategies in my head, anticipate every scenario. I study and I study hard. I exhaust sources, hunt down materials and techniques. I immerse myself and I eat, sleep, drink the one thing I want until I have it. If I run out of fuel, I find a way a glide. If there is opposition, I fight. I dig in, defend my position, then relentlessly attack. I'm vicious.

The point, is that I'm no quitter. I stay. I stay and I will fight for people I love. I will fight to keep them. I will fight to make things right or better. And I always fight this urge to believe that they leave because they can't stand me. That its all my fault. Yet somehow, deep inside, I know its not a coincidence. So many guys couldn't be wrong.