Dylan and Brandon Come to Life

Dylan and Brandon Come to Life

There are two types of girls. There are girls who like Brandon Walsh. And there are girls who like Dylan McKay. On second thought, I guess there are girls who like Brenda, or Kelly, or Brenda and Kelly, or Brandon and Kelly. But for the purpose of this discussion, that's neither here nor there.

I graduated from high school in 1996 while the gang at West Bev graduated in 93. The series finale aired the week after I graduated from college in May of 2000 and I've watched all 296 episodes. All throughout, I have never wavered. My heart has always belonged to Dylan McKay.

Was my Dylan McKay obsession one of the first indications that down the road my taste and judgement in men would be lacking?

You see, there are two types of guys, the Brandons and the Dylans. The Brandons are the good guys, the ones you marry. They're the ones your parents adore. They can tell you without hesitation exactly how they feel. They're the ones you don't have to chase.

And then there are the Dylans. Dylans are the bad boys who are always fun (at the time). Who am I kidding? They're always a lot of fun, well, except for when they're too busy being self-involved. They are always unavailable, in every way. They're skeptical of you, of the world. If Dylans are your thang, then gurl, lace up those running shoes because chasing you will do, and a lot of it. And it will lead you nowhere.

In an attempt to change my relationship pattern from being a Dylan-lover to a Brandon-lover, I keep reminding myself lately that if it feels like I'm chasing, he's not the right one.

I've had running injuries on and off for the last year and a half. Overuse? Maybe. Wrong running shoes? Quite possibly. Chasing...? Bingo.

Let the healing begin.

So which one is it ladies? Who do you love?

Filed under: dating

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    Urban dictionary defines ruraphobia as a condition resulting in severe fear of leaving urban environments and entering rural environments. It is characterized by fear of water, fear of trees, fear of peacefulness, fear of flowers, fear of country music, fear of cows. To those who suffer from this affliction, ruraphobia is the real deal. I swore, unless I was accompanied by a husband and a child (or at least one on the way), that I would never leave the city of Chicago for the suburbs. Yet here I am, living in the western suburbs after my list of "why I should" became longer than my list of "why I should not." Join me as we chat about the turn of events that brought me to where I am today and what I discover when I saw goodbye to the city and hello to the suburbs.

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