Learning process

Today marks my parents' 28th wedding anniversary. Pretty commendable, since I can't even keep a dude's attention for 28 minutes.
It's insane to think my parents would put up with each other for so long, considering they're so different from each other.

Mom's secret?
"Find a guy who loves you. You'll learn to love back... or at least love the babies he will one day give you."
Uh... no, Mom, I beg to differ. I'm not letting ANYONE near my cookie box unless I like them... a lot, and not because I signed a piece of paper saying I was going to stay bonded to him until one of us dies.
"Do you think I loved your father when I married him? He was fat-- I never had a fat boyfriend IN MY LIFE. He was THE ONLY Protestant in the entire town-- I was THE most Catholic girl in town. He was old... who the hell wants an old guy?"
... ??? Wow.
"Hear me out. I wasn't your father's love either. He hated short girls and only dated fair-skinned girls."
What the fuck?! What are you trying to do here?! It's NOT working!
"We had both had our fair share of 'loves.' We had both been hurt by that 'love.' And that's when we both got real. He realized he wanted a hardworking girl who would one day teach his kids good values... and cook and clean for him. I wanted a guy who would have no addictions, especially not drinking. He would also be loyal... and have some sort of faith, unlike the wild animals from Hometown who claim to be Catholic but never step foot in church after making their first communion. Anyway, the moment he showed up in town, he asked around town for a girl with those qualities, they all referred me, I checked out his qualities, and I accepted."
How... not sweet.

This revelation was shared when I was about twenty, I think. Had she told me all this shit at a younger age, I'm sure I would have been more devastated... I mean, come on, I grew up watching shit like The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. I think all little kids like to think of their parents "meeting cute." Mom would be walking in a crowded street, Dad bumps into her, makes her drop all the shit in her hands, they make eye-contact as they both reach for the spilled bread/papers/flower/etc and an instant connection is made-- they each think the other is the most beautiful creature they've ever seen (or at least like Mooney's parents: Her mom and my mom were BFFs. Mooney's mom had always had a crush on my Mom's brother. She would admire him from afar and see how he'd date girl after girl. One day he realized he liked her, they dated, then got married. I'd fucking kill for that to happen to me... or not. I wouldn't become a felon over a dude).
Not:
Mom sitting in the tail-gate of a truck as she gossips with a gaggle of girls. Dad, the lone ranger, walks up to the gaggle with Mom's old neighbor.
Mom: Who's this old fatass trying to holler?
Dad: This midget is the chick you've been telling me about? Is this a joke?
True story, folks.

However, as fucked up as this may seem, they make shit work. As disenchanting as it may be, I think their practical way of looking at marriage is what has helped them last so long. They tolerate and respect each other, which is always appreciated by my siblings and I.
I'm glad they took their promise seriously, because I'd be unconsolable if their marriage would fall apart. They may not be madly in love with each other... or have showed each other much affection throughout their marriage... but they're each other's friend.
Mom helps Dad realize when people are taking advantage of his softie-ass-- often times fighting his battles-- and Dad let's Mom know when she's being a stone-hearted, scary witch (Oh my God... what is it with me and my very backhanded "laudatory" entries?) often apologizing for her curt behavior with others.
They're complimentary like that.

Can I make this formula work for me? No way in hell. I let my heart rule my head and that's why everything ends up in a fiery, bloody wreck-- metaphorically. I yearn for boys who could never love me-- no matter how hard I try to get them to even like me-- and I self-sabotage when shit is working out. Plus, the dudes who really like me are... well, there's something always seriously wrong with them (he's either crazy, or a machista, or really dumb), there's no way I'd ever get near them. While it sounds shallow as hell to say that... I just CAN'T get myself to like them... which is why I sort of understand guy after guy after guy who dumps me for the intellectually inferior, fake-tittied, blonde chick who gives great head... but is clearly more attractive than me.
It's a part of (MY) life. I've accepted it, kind of like how my parents accepted not to follow their heart, but their head. It doesn't make us euphoric, but it gets shit done (or in my case, it allows me to wake up in the mornings).

Yeah... I'm not feeling too good, or well (I was just lectured on this shit, and let me tell you: I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. I speak Spanish, give me a fucking break. Ok, add angry to my list, now).