Mr. Wrong

Sometimes, he’s blond. Most often, he’s dark-haired and his eyes are predominantly green. Occasionally, they’re some shade of blue, icy and intense, though they have also been a warm, honeyed brown.

He is beautiful, of course. Silken and selfish, he plays to win and believes he can’t lose. He’s the hero in his own story, avenging imagined slights and charming his way into bedrooms and boardrooms alike. He relishes his power over people. He loves not at all, though his victims will argue vehemently to the contrary (and feel the fool in retrospect).

He has expensive taste. He travels by limousine rather than driving himself. He lives the high life as his due, whether or not he comes from a moneyed clan.

He is arrogant, not confident.

He makes his own rules.

He is temperamental and prone to violence.

He is clever and cunning, street smart rather than book smart, and is most dangerous when threatened.

He usually meets a bad end, though he has prevailed in a world where his manipulative skills are considered strengths.

I have no illusions. I love him for all the wrong reasons. I try to stay detached because I know he’s doomed … and yet I miss him when he’s gone.