I wrote this post as a guest blog for Simone Grant of www.sex-lies-dating.com and got some interesting comments on her blog http://su.pr/21PncX from her followers. Love to hear what you guys think too, so please comment here!
Yes, I’m going to go there. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I’m going to call myself out and blog about the fact that I am worthy. Any woman in her thirties who isn’t able to embrace what she has to offer a man, or the world, has got bigger issues than finding a mate. By now, after having been married, rebounded, broken some hearts and had my own heart broken too, it comes down to being real about who I am. I haven’t come to this conclusion by myself. I’ve taken stock of what friends and family tell me – people who know me. Including some male friends who have said the following to me: “You’re a lot, Cougel. You’re a strong woman. You’re attractive and smart, but moreover, you’re tough. I meet even dare say, scary. I wouldn’t want to be your enemy!”
So, is this a compliment? I mean, what is a woman to do with this information? Am I supposed to downplay my best attributes, diminish my “light” as they say? Gain ten pounds, ditch the hair color treatments, fake a lisp or feign some vulnerability, and shut the fuck up when I’m hanging out with a group of eligible men so that I don’t overshadow them?
Yes! If I could do that, I would probably have better luck. But then I wouldn’t be myself. And at the end of the day – or rather in the morning when I wake up, in my own skin, not in my friend’s or neighbors or dog’s – me is all I have. And if I’m faking me, if I’m twisting aspects of me and my growth away from the light, then I’d be a sad plant whose been tied up to grow against its natural grain.
I’m writing about this because as in most post break-up phases and hazes, I’m doing some accounting of the self. I’m looking back on my last two or three relationships (marriage not included), and I’m finding a pattern. I’m studying what I call the “point of entry” into my relationships – the courtship stage which graduates into the boyfriend/girlfriend phase, and I’m wondering, how did I get there? How do two people make that transition? It’s elusive to me. And yet, in retrospect, I’m afraid to admit that all of those relationships got off the ground as conquests. Where the guy “wanted” me, because of whatever he believed me to be from afar (the idea of me) and decided, “I’m gonna get that girl.”
Since my break up, some men have come out of the woodwork who I used to know platonically or otherwise. Now that I’m single, they’re back on the prowl. It’s cougel hunting season! I had a man practically wrestle me to the ground the other night trying to convince me why he was right for me, what he could offer me that my ex-boyfriend could not. But all along, what he was really saying was, “Why not me? What’s wrong with me that you won’t have me?”
The truth is (although this isn’t why), if I did submit, if I did resurrect his ego by agreeing to be with him, what do you think would happen? He’d probably be like, “Oh shit, I didn’t think I’d actually catch my prey. And now that I have, what the hell do I do with it?” Am I being cynical? I don’t think so.
Funny enough, in all of those instances where I did end up with the guy, I was initially reticent. “No!” I said emphatically. “It’s never gonna happen,” or “I love cubs but you just missed the cub-off by a year!” or “You just got divorced yesterday!” “You’re two inches shorter than me!” and even, “You’re not only not Jewish, you’re not even circumsized!”
Well, where did that lead me, you ask? Yep, to the guy chasing me down harder. My falling. In love. Showing and giving of my true self. And then? Yeah. You’ve heard this story before. Guy pulls a Houdini. But this is not a newsflash. People, men and women, inherently love the chase. I’d even say it’s elemental for every relationship’s point of entry.
So if that’s human nature, then what do we do about it? Play games? Change who we are?
My mother says not to. So do my sisters. But they aren’t single, and they are not in my shoes. My mother, when reading my blog says “Who are you? Where did you come from?” If your own mother thinks you’re an alien, or has blocked out your birth from her own womb, where does that leave you? For firsts, it probably means don’t take her advice.
My own sister once said, when I was heading out the door to City Crab on a blind date, what my male friend said too: “Just be careful. You’re a lot. Try not to be too much.” So I proceeded to walk to City Crab with my tail between my legs, and every time I had something witty to say, I had another crab leg instead. Which led to my feeling pretty crabby.
Did my meek damsel in distress masquerade make a difference? Did the dude call? Course not.
I know I’m asking a lot of questions here. Cuz it’s a work in progress. What do you all think? I’ve floated this theory by some men and they (sadly) have confirmed that:
All a guy really needs is a hot chick who doesn’t badger him. Who is “smart enough” and laughs at his jokes. And gives him frequent blow jobs.
True or false?
If true – what are women with more than that to give supposed to do?