About That Bitch Disease…
April 10, 2016 § 6 Comments
This is my ideal woman: I want a 5’5-5’7″ slender yet curvy size 0-6. I might consider size 8 if the woman has some killer curves. I also want her to have soft, plump lips, a very perky 32B-34C cup; a small waist, soft hips like a track sprinter’s, a soft neckline, dainty fingers, caramel/milky skin; long silky hair that cascade down the small of her back…oh, and she needs to between 21 and 24.
What’s the first thought that comes to your head? Don’t tell me that; tell that to yourself. How does the description of my “ideal” mate make you feel. Let’s imagine for a second that I’m this incredibly fun, kind, honest, and the sweetest of men and you know this beforehand.
But how do you feel about me now after you’ve read what I want in a woman? Do you still find me appealing? Suppose, I could actually be the closest thing to a perfect mate for you…or even if not perfect, but we actually had a very good chance at clicking and building a beautiful life together…
Suppose all those possibilities we daydream about when it comes to the ideal partner could exist between you and me…would you be able to completely ignore my initial statement and overlook how those words grate at your sense of self and self worth, approach me, smile and strike up a conversation in hopes of starting a new long-lasting relationship with me? Can you sincerely do that?
Here…go back to my criteria again then come back to the second part of that last paragraph. How would you really view me? Forget the partner/relationship slope. How would you really feel about me?
It’s not exactly fair, is it? You qualify for the position, but I’ve made it almost impossible for you to get a chance to date me.
Now here’s the ugly truth: I’m a lot more liberal about my potential life partners than what that list describes, but what if you’re exactly what I am in my initial criteria?
I’m not saying don’t have standards or have designs for your Prince Charming. But resting on that bitch disease and its ostentatious and outlandish and improbable expectations will NEVER get you a man. I can almost guarantee you’ll never be on any man’s wish list if you keep those unreasonable wish lists. Not every man is tall, dark and handsome. Not every man holds that advanced degree, that six-figure job, or is rapidly scaling the rungs of Fortune 500! Try finding a good man in that select few. Impossible? No, but we’re getting highly selective here. Now here’s the kicker you never considered when you were making designs for this man in your fantasies: ever considered that very real possibility that you ain’t what he wants?
I’m not trying to get your hopes up. Many moons ago, I applied to Princeton. It was the biggest reach on my list of undergrads, but I was realistic. I had my safeties and strong possible entries in there, too. I eventually got my Carleton and Middlebury and that late Columbia admit. Have you considered the non-Princetons of the dating world? Midd might not have Princeton’s prestige and panache, but it’s still a damn good college, no? So why are you not considering that great guy who happens to not possess two degrees or work in finance?
When you throw up your crazy (yes, to me they’re not only crazy, but seriously off-putting) lists, do you ever consider your chances or how broad your dating pool really should be in finding that good mate?
I’m not here to tell you how to formulate your criteria for a good partner, but be realistic. While you narrowly pursue that trophy man you think deserve- who may end up being a serious douche- you’d be speeding past that good man with whom you could probably have a more richer and nurturing relationship.
My ex once told me what she missed most about me. On occasion, instead of going to the salon to wash her hair, she’d ask me to remove her braids or weave. I’d prop her head on a pillow between my legs and slowly tweeze out each single braid or gently cut and remove every single tight stitch. She’ll lay there quietly in bed with me while we talk about all kinds of topics as we worked through the next hour to release her natural hair from all those extensions. She didn’t talk about missing my money, or what I’d spend on her, buy for her, or places I took her. It was those little and unassuming moments she missed most; it was that, the facials, full-body massages, cooking and even bathing her. Notice how none of these costs anything but just a few moments in time?
So when that bitch disease flares up, kindly pause and ask yourself if the trophy criteria we draw up for our ideal partners is what we really want in the long run from the partners we hope will nurture and care for us while we build lives and families together.