Mr. Wrong: he's the tug behind your navel, the guy who lights you up like a Roman candle, the danger you can’t resist. At some point in her life, just about every woman encounters one—or many.
He’s the fellow who lives on a houseboat (seasick sex, anyone?), the guy who can’t sweat. The one who’s thrown out of a restaurant because of the hideous orange coat that makes him look homeless or deranged (or both). The med student who says, at least once a day, “My body is my temple.” The banker who insists on eating kimchi before making love. The classical guitarist with inch-long fingernails on one hand. The guy with the banana-shaped penis (it hurts!). The man who thinks bathing once a week is enough (it’s not). The one who can’t get it up and the one who won’t go down. The married man who’s been having affairs for 25 years and says his wife doesn’t know. Right.
And those are just the ones I’ve run into.
These and other sordid guys inspired me to put together a collection of essays on the subject of, as my daughter calls it, "poopy boyfriends." The book is called--what else?--MR. WRONG: REAL-LIFE STORIES ABOUT THE MEN WE USED TO LOVE (Ballantine), and features essays from the likes of Jane Smiley, Marge Piercy, Audrey Niffennegger, Alicia Erian, Ann Hood, Whitney Otto, Roxana Robinson, and others about *their* poopy boyfriends and husbands.
But enough about them--I want to hear from ordinary women (and men) about their poopy boyfriends. Who was the worst boyfriend you ever had, and why? Here's a chance to tell your story. Tell a good one and I'll send you a T-shirt made from the book cover later this summer.
Yours in solidarity,