I think I must be
emotionally immature: I have a tendency to focus on the physical
appearance of a man and my physical feelings towards him, and then
feebly attempt to build up a relationship from there.
I have recently joined a
dating site, and find myself browsing through the men as though they
are a list of products in a catalogue. I flick through impatiently
until something pretty catches my eye. My internal monologue as I
accept or reject "matches" goes something like this:
Bald... No.
Glasses... No.
Old... No.
Buck teeth... No.
Ginger... No.
Black and white posed
photo of a good looking man... He looks like he could be the one...
I'm obviously punching
above my weight
Because when I add these
last category of guys to my "favourites", or whatever it is
one does as a cyber equivalent to smiling, I get "viewed"
but never selected as a favourite in return. And when I look at who
does like me, the list includes: the bald one, the
bespectacled one, the old one, the buck teeth one and the ginger.
So, reluctantly, I check
them out. As I click through the photos, I cringe more and more. How
could I be attracted to any of these men when there are so many hot
guys out there?
But what if....
I read a profile and
imagine that a good looking man has written it – my heart
starts fluttering with feelings of innate compatibility. But then I
take another glance at the photo and the butterflies turn to lead. I do not feel excited looking at this man.
When I get a text from a
Geek who is interested in me, I huff with impatience at his
neediness, feeling stifled and pressured. In general, this sort of
reaction has led to a belief that women like me want a Bad Boy –
someone who will "treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen".
But again, I close my
eyes and I use my imagination: the man who has just text me is that
really hot guy from the pub the other night... I read the text again
as though my fantasy is true – and suddenly I don't feel so stifled
anymore. In fact, I feel tremblingly excited – I can even feel my
cheeks glowing.
So it's not that I don't
want to be doted on. It's that I want to be doted on by someone who
excites me.
Surrender
I have never particularly
considered myself to have a "type", rather a set of (what
is increasingly looking impossible) criteria: incredibly good
looking, intelligent, deep, fun, masculine, sensitive, happy,
independent, doting....
In her book, The Surrendered Single, Laura Doyle argues that this kind of criteria prevents a woman from really being open to love.
She suggests accepting dates from anyone, on the basis that until you
fall in love you can't possibly know if someone is right for you.
Deciding to follow this
advice, I went on a date with a Geek. I determined on seeing all the
positives and dismissing the negatives. I enjoyed the conversation,
he was a gentleman, and I had a nice time.
So I went to our second
date feeling completely uptight, but trying my best to be all smiles
and pleasant conversation. Having once decided he repulsed me, I
began to really dislike his company. His nervous laugh grated on me,
his awkwardness stressed me out. I could not wait to get away.
I'm ashamed of myself for
these feelings. I feel cruel. There is nothing wrong with this man's
heart; he is honest, sincere, warm, friendly and generous. But I felt in my gut that dating him was like giving in to desperation.
Onwards and...?
Having said that, going
out with GeekBoy1978 has done me a big favour; I am now
looking through the other online profiles with a more positive view:
Bald... but has similar
taste in music.
Glasses... but that
comment he made about grapes is hilarious!
Old... but check out
those manly arms...
Buck teeth... but so
intelligent.
Ginger... but otherwise
very very cool.
If I knew who the right
man for me was, the chances are I'd be with him already. So if I can
open my mind just a little, then maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.
GeekBoy1978 wasn't the one, but maybe OldManBigGuns will be...
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