Never marry a man based on how he looks in a pair of leather pants. I give this advice because I did it twice. Like many “good girls” I sought out the “bad boys,” or at least the ones who seemed very exciting. I was always drawn to the dangerous boys in high school and college. You know, the ones who eschew the rules, drive too fast and drink way too much? I craved adventure and these guys were unpredictable and dramatic: the perfect antidote to my shy studious ways. By the time I was twenty-five, after way too many close calls and way too many heart breaks, I thought I was done with all that. I was ready to meet a respectable man who didn’t drive drunk and could remember everything he did the night before.
My first husband was a newly recovering alcoholic with a checkered past. He seemed possibly too nerdy with his engineering degree, thick glasses, and SAAB 900. On our second date, he showed up in a pair of leather pants, a tight black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. I was hooked! He had just enough edge to keep my attention as we went to a Ramones concert and danced for hours. Although Joe wore khakis or jeans most of the time, those leather pants were always part of his persona. I loved hearing stories of what a “bad boy” my future husband was through his teens and early twenties as he hitchhiked across the country to see bands, hung out in blues bars, dyed his hair magenta, and got kicked out of the University of Chicago three times.
Yes, I chose to marry this man and have his children. Twelve years later, Joe was way too fat for those pants, and he really didn’t want to work a job or help raise our sons. I began to realize how much damage he did to his brain in his years of excess and rebellion. Our marriage ended with a messy divorce and left me with all the responsibility for our kids.
My second husband was someone I vaguely knew for many years, but I never noticed him when I was married or even when I was newly single. For years I saw him with his long gray ponytail, overalls, and ink-stained hands when we ended up in the same meetings. Then one day, Nick got a new job and cut his hair. Suddenly he looked attractive as he appeared at meetings in his red shirt and khakis. We still didn’t date for a while, but once we went out, I learned that he had a motorcycle. Nick would pick me up for a date wearing chaps and a leather jacket. The single women in my neighborhood swooned as he rumbled in on his red Harley. My kids thought he was cool. I was hooked; Nick was mostly a “good boy” but had enough of a naughty side to keep me interested. About a year after we married, Nick sold his motorcycle and quit his other sexy hobby of hang gliding. He did, however, keep the chaps… and they still fit, so there is that!
I know I picked better the second time I married. I intentionally looked for a stable, hardworking, kind man who didn’t really need me. By the time I met Nick, I had learned my lesson that “bad boys” will break your heart time and time again. Nonetheless, I absolutely should warn other women to be cautious about men who show up for dates in leather pants; they might just cloud your judgment and take your breath away. But maybe there is no harm if a “good boy" has a pair of leather pants to pull out of the closet on special occasions?
Brooke Davis is a high school librarian and mindfulness coach. She is a wife and mother to sons and two cats. In her spare time, Brooke likes to write, practice yoga, garden and travel. Her blog is Mindful-musings.org.