Mick Jagger and tiny leather pants

Mick Jagger’s raspy voice is trapped in my head. He somehow popped into my brain around 3:30 this morning, and hasn’t left. I’m not sure why he continues to stay curled up in my grey matter, as I am undeniably not his type. As 5’4 brunette the only thing I resemble on Terry Hall is her pubic hair.

Regardless he is up there belting out, “You can’t always get what you want”. How could he piss me off more? As if his surgically lifted eyes and gigantic mouth aren’t irritating enough, I now feel as if a tiny version of him will scale out of my ear and start performing on my desk. Knowing Mick, he’ll probably violate my pencils and slide around on my ruler in little leather pants. Mockingly I am singing back to him, “You might just get what you need!” and wishing that he would leave me alone.

At 4:30 a.m. this morning, I slightly appreciated him singing to me. I lay in bed wondering why it is that men who drive you to the breaking point of a psychotic episode are the ones that you can’t let go. What is that? I hate my stubborn side. Therefore, I reviewed my love life in order to see where I could make a change.

Boyfriend #1 told me didn’t love anymore in a very dramatic way in high school. I sought revenge. We were married two years ago, and he now worships the ground I walk on. Don’t get me wrong; I worship him like some worship the Dali Lama or mint chochalte chip icecream.

Boyfriend #2-4 I don’t remember.

Boyfriend #5 dumped me for some girl with a nose the size of a ripe banana. My revenge was to date his roommate for a several years on and off and be as loud as possible when we went to bed.

Boyfriend #6 is the roommate. It’s my understanding, now at 31; the roommate never really wanted me. Although I was a screamer, so perhaps he found me entertaining. Do to the fact he wasn’t terribly interested in me, I stayed around for three years begging for his intention.

Boyfriend #7 had multiple personality disorder, so it was a constant battle. Not only did I have to be the center of his attention, but also the focus for 4 other people that resided in his brain. While his suffocating attention drove me off, a couple of the other personalities I saw in him worked wonders. I just wasn’t sure how to bring them out on a regular basis, so I decided one night when he transformed into a child called “Nick” to leave him.

Boyfriend #8 was a vato from Westside San Antonio. I broke up with only to find out he was fucking some girl who could actually speak Spanish and communicate with his family. I was happy to write him off, as he thought my thighs were too big. Come to find out the woman he was playing around with was twice my size, and had an unquenchable desire for burritos.

Boyfriend #9 is actually Boyfriend #1 who became said husband.

Lover #10 is the one who has spawned Mick Jagger to appear in my head making late night appearances. He has the uncanny ability to always keep me wanting something he won’t deliver. Some days I am number 1 one his list, and other days surfing, drinking, or mental distraction for all other living life forms takes my place. His ability to put my on a continual gerbil loop, in which I run and run and can never quite catch him, keeps me enraptured. Perhaps it’s time I jump off the track.

I wonder about the line, “You might just get what you need”. Did I ever really get what I needed? What I really need is a good slap in the face, and a calm person to explain to me that I have two choices. The options are either the unobtainable, which will always fascinate me, or keep the men who adore me. While it’s good to be adored, I need a little chase. So for the time being, I’ll keep running. But damn, I’m gonna make that man beg. If that doesn’t work, I’ll just start dating little Mick.