I admit it. I’ve been distracting myself with boys, one in particular whom I’ve been referring to as The Dark Horse.
from the urban dictionary:
1) dark horse
Not the main favored candidate. Someone somewhat unknown who exceeds expectations of all others in an event. This saying is said to go back to the Victorian politician Benjamin Disraeli who, apart from becoming Prime Minister, also found time to write a novel called “The Young Duke.” In the book there is a description of a horse race in which the two favorites cannot make the running. In the meanwhile “a dark horse…rushed past the grandstand in a sweeping triumph.”
2) dark horse
A mysterious or shy person who unexpectedly turns out to be the best at something.
Popularly used to describe a man who may not initially catch a lady’s attention but is then unpredictably, completely charming (and, if the lady really hits the jackpot, is fantastic in bed). Due to the element of surprise, a dark horse can often beguile even the most beautiful and intelligent ladies into bed.
But it’s over now. And it’s harder now that it’s over (to quote a Ryan Adams song I’ve been listening to repetitively for weeks on end). Back to myself and the work of getting through these emotions now. Which is sad and just what I was avoiding. I wasn’t looking for anything serious mind you, no commitments, not looking for a husband replacement or anything, just granting myself a brief reprieve from the loneliness and it was nice having someone about, even if he was somewhat unsuitable. Ah, but he was cute. Damn cute. And as I’m an acquired taste, I was a bit too much, too fearless, too fast, and in being my honest everything-on-the-table self, frightened the dark horse away (who reacted more like a nervous South American street dog). You see, the dark horse has issues. Lots of them. And it’s very complicated. Enough baggage to sink a small ship in fact. And when I gave him a get out of this hot mess for free card, he took it. Cowardly, but predictable at least.