My girlfriend came over late last night to give me an update on her date with her potential soulmate.
She came to the door at around midnight. I am never really asleep, so you can always count on me to be up haunting the hallways.
She was dressed beautifully and stylishly, looking like she’d stepped off a magazine shoot for Vogue. If I were a guy I’d tap that.
“I don’t know Amy. He was a bit funny.” She told me. She looked a bit bewildered. Actually she looked a little bit disturbed.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He told me that his ex wife used to abuse him”.
I listened quietly, a little dumb founded.
“And that his brother in laws used to beat him”
I burst out laughing.
She laughed now too, relaying the story to me.
“She said they used to whip him”
More laughing from me. That’s terrible. I had a mental image of this grown ass 6 foot 3 inch man cowering in the corner in the fetal position, thumb in his mouth, being whipped like a sex slave.
“What the fuck?” I asked incredulously.
More laughing now.
“What did you say to him when he said that?” I asked her.
“All I could say was “wow”. When he was telling me the story, he was very animated, his hands up near his face in the block position as if he was reliving it”.
What a turn-off.
He had ticked all of her boxes. Tall, dark, handsome, well dressed, cultured, fantastic job, wealthy, and the perfect gentleman.
He had opened and closed doors for her, told her very romantically to “order dessert, and I want to watch you eat it”. He paid for the bill and was very attentive, texting her after the date to thank her for a lovely evening. But something was off.
I suppose the fact that he was the family gimp didn’t help, but the main thing was his lack of masculinity. His need to discuss his feelings of inadequacy, and his fear of his ex-wife. His admittance of spending 18 months in therapy to deal with his physical abuse that he endured. He had opened Pandora’s box within 20 minutes of meeting her.
“There was no chemistry whatsoever. Why do we love the bastards?” My friend asked me.
Her and I are both very feminine women. Both very tiny in stature, both into fashion, both very sensitive. Not a day goes by where one of us is not crying over something.
So when we possess these very feminine attributes, it is only natural to seek out the opposite. Feminine women need a masculine man. One who can dig holes, play sport, open jars for us, kill spiders, fight people, make us laugh, listen to our nonsense, call us beautiful, and treat us a little bit mean at times. Feminine women don’t want to date a pussy.
“Why can’t I just date you?” My friend asked. “You’re fun, and jovial, and chilled.”
It would be a lot simpler if we could just date our girlfriends.
“There are so many fucked up people out there. I’m beginning to think they’re the normal ones and I’m abnormal. Maybe you and I are the only abnormal people out there”.
Are any of us really “normal”? Don’t we all have some sort of baggage? I guess the important thing is not to let it define us. To turn us into a person we are not. We don’t need our pain to become our identity.
“He kept on telling me how he eats at the best restaurants, stays at the best hotels, is friends with parliamentarians and how he loves shopping. He was very well dressed but he was so conservative. He was a bit of a nerd.”
“He is obviously very insecure” I told her. “And he’s not for you”.
If you have to convince someone of how great you are, maybe the real person that needs convincing is yourself.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life, it’s that you can’t have it all. He ticks all of the materialistic boxes, but none of the emotional ones. Stop looking for someone with all the bells and whistles, and start looking for someone you connect with”. I advised my friend.
Women do this a lot. Look for stability in the form of financial security. Money DOES NOT equal happiness. Yes, it makes things a lot easier, but it doesn’t make you happy.
We need to seek someone who can enrich our soul, not buy us a Louis Vuitton bag or a pair of Christian Louboutin heels. Yeah that stuff is nice, but that “stuff” is all bullshit. And it’s just stuff.
So my advice would be to not have a checklist of what you think makes a great catch – feel it out with your soul. If you connect, you connect.
Everything else pales into insignificance if you can find someone you have that special chemistry with. Like Elizabeth Gilbert says in “Eat, Pray, Love” – either that mysterious magnet is there, or it’s not.
So to my sassy, beautiful, feminine friend, keep the door of your heart open – you might be surprised at who walks in.