Category Archives: To the Girls

The Green Monster

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Over and over I hear single women bemoan the fact that their friends are coupling off, tying the knot, and popping out little ones.

“When is it going to be my turn?” she wines.

“Why am I having such a hard time finding a man? All of my friends seem to be finding decent husbands!”

“Is there something wrong with me?”

I’ve never really considered myself the jealous type. My friend enters a relationship, and if I don’t automatically assume it will fail (since I’m somewhat cynical…) then I wish them the best. I sincerely hope it works out well. I’m not jealous because I LOVE my life! I never get jealous. I never got jealous.

Until last week. That green monster within yawned and stretched his arms. Rise and shine, Jealous Streak!

You see, my bestie found an **almost-boyfriend. There has been a lot of tension between me and her for the last few months. But last week everything mounted. [Almost-boyfriend: a man who is not yet in a relationship with a woman; a man who is on the verge of moving forward in a romantic relationship; a man who flirts shamelessly and pays lots of attention to a woman, but has not made any formal commitment; the title of a man the week before he becomes an actual boyfriend.]

Mr. UnpaidTherapist walks by my desk at work and I throw out the update on bestie and her almost-boyfriend. He laughs at my snide comment with a comeback stating that I am jealous. He may as well have set up a couch in his office and called me in for an appointment. Minutes later I hurry to fill him in on the actual issue.

He’s right. I’m jealous. But he’s wrong. I’m not jealous. And I don’t have multiple personalities either.

I’m still content. I still enjoy my life. I am not, by any means, overwhelmed with desire for a partner in life. I don’t look at any of the couples around me and seethe with envy. I am not one of those girls muttering the questions and phrases listed at the beginning of this blog with an intense feeling of despair. I don’t covet relationship to that degree.

The man doesn’t make me jealous either. I am in no way attracted to the almost-boyfriend she landed. That issue is a non-issue.

Naturally, Mr. UnpaidTherapist wonders what awakened my green monster.

My best friend no longer needs me. She doesn’t call me on a daily basis, because she is more than distracted by this fabulous new love interest. She doesn’t feel the need to hang out because she spends all spare time with him. She doesn’t really care what I think of this guy because she is so deeply infatuated that other opinions have lost all value. She’s not interested in my trip to Jamaica because her path toward relationship is way more exciting to talk about than a tropical island. She discarded her super-tight Queen of Spades for that studly King of Hearts. As the Queen of Spades, I’m chilling out in the middle of the table, mingling with the rest of the cards, glaring at King of Hearts and feeling dreadfully jealous.

The fact that King of Hearts isn’t even a real boyfriend just adds insult to injury. I’ve been abandoned for an almost-boyfriend? Really?

That was last week. This week has been better. A little bit of prayer, a lot of feeling convicted for a being a terrible support to my best friend when she is super excited about this new turn of events in her life, and a swift kick to green monster’s head helped considerably. I was even able to feel some genuine enthusiasm last night when I called to listen to her gush about King of Hearts officially asking her out this week. (Almost-boyfriend stepped into official boyfriend category tonight. Injury still healing, but insult removed.)

Funny coincidence: Bestie said something on the phone tonight about how she no longer needs my input in her life now that she has this boyfriend. She has no idea that her lack of interest in my input is what threw me into an emotional fit last week. Good thing I’m over it this week.

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Translate Love

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A group I meet with weekly is currently studying Gary Chapman’s book, “The 5 Love Languages”. In case you’ve never heard of it, the author teaches that people express and respond to love in 5 basic ways 0r understand love in “5 languages”. He explains that in order to express love to someone effectively, you need to communicate through that person’s primary love language. Quick breakdown of the 5:

 

  1. Quality Time: undivided attention or special moments set aside for me prove that  you love me/distractions during conversation, standing me up, or postponing a date hurt me deeply
  2. Words of Affirmation: tell me I’m beautiful, tell me you appreciate me, openly compliment me in front of others and  recognize your love for me/don’t thank me or compliment me when I do things or make fun of me and I feel devalued
  3. Receiving Gifts: give me a gift “just because” or go out of your way to find me that “perfect something” for my birthday and I realize that you treasure me/forget me or pick up something dumb because you feel you have to and I don’t believe you care about me
  4. Physical Touch: hug me, hold me, pat me on the arm, and I sense your love for me/your aloofness or discomfort at my touch devastates me
  5. Acts of Service: do me a favor, help me with some chores, ease my burdens somehow and I can see that you love me/break a promise, neglect to finish that project you told me you’d do around the house, or shuffle your responsibilities into my lap – those things really bother me

That’s the rundown. If you want to see which love languages apply most in your own life I encourage you to take an assessment here: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/assessments/love/

Anyway, as we discussed some of these principles last night, I found my mind wandering back to Jamaica… again. There was one man, in particular, that I became attached to while I was down there. As a girl who is not easily wooed by the opposite sex, I kept wondering why this man left such a strong impact on me after just two days together. (They weren’t even two consecutive days together – we saw each other the first Friday my friend and I were there and again the last Sunday.) During our meeting last night, it dawned on me. In the two short days I spent with him, Raul (as my friend fondly nicknamed this guy) expressed love to me through four of the five love languages!

Raul was braiding my hair within the first twenty minutes of meeting. 🙂

His friendly introduction started the process. My friend and I passed a restaurant and he called down to us from the balcony, inviting us to stop. We passed by, but returned a short while later to eat lunch. He approached us with a smile and asked if he could join us. Within seconds he not only welcomed us to Jamaica, but he was talking openly with us about our trip and about his culture. Quality time.

This restaurant had a couple of water slides and water trampolines. We went for the slide into the ocean. After exploding out the slide into salt water, we climbed up onto a trampoline to lay down for a while and catch our breaths. More time to talk. He began to emphasize how much he liked me. He exalted my smile. He told me I was beautiful. He went on and on about how nice I seemed to be – which he could not always expect from tourists. In contrast, he claimed that many tourists are rude to Jamaicans. Words of affirmation.

After some more play in the water, we climbed onto the dock to relax. Raul left me for a few moments as I laid down in a lawn chair. A lifeguard came and put the rest of the lawnchairs away. When Raul returned, he sat at the end of the chair by my feet. It didn’t take long before he pulled my legs into his lap so he could rub my feet. I watched him in awe as he caressed my feet so tenderly. I thought about stopping him – how could I accept such an act from an almost-stranger? Was I using him? But I never could say “no” to a good foot massage. I decided to delight in the special treatment and he continued. Physical touch.

My friend and I left him, but agreed to think about hanging out later that night. We did end up spending more time with him and we met more friends of his later on. After a fun night together, he and his friends offered to walk us back to our hotel. We had been by the beach, so my feet and flip-flops were covered with sand. He looked down and then asked us to wait. He went for the shore and came back with a cup of water to clean the sand off my feet so that it would not irritate my skin as we walked back. My friend stared at him with her mouth wide open as he hurried back and forth from me to the ocean until my feet were completely clean. Acts of service.

Those were four specific instances that Raul expressed love to me in our first day together. I could list countless other gestures if I took the time. I highly doubt this man’s ever read the book. But he is fluent in the languages of love.

Lady Thor

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Uh-oh. Another one is mad at me.

I pulled onto my street and saw my landlord talking to someone in a big white pickup truck. Hey, that looks like Mr.CoffeeEncounter’s truck. I park. I step outside of my car, almost directly next to this white truck. I look up. Crap! That is Mr.CoffeeEncounter’s truck! [For background info on Mr. CoffeeEncounter see: https://sarahbux.wordpress.com/2012/01/29/flirt-to-convert-prelude-to-a-coffee-encounter/  or  https://sarahbux.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/a-coffee-encounter/]

I wave nonchalantly at my Mr. CoffeeEncounter and my landlord while I bolt toward my apartment. I hope he can’t tell that I’m about to pee myself. Here’s the thing: A month or two ago, Mr. CoffeeEncounter and I were texting. And… well, let’s just say it ended with a challenge… He made an effort to meet that challenge… Ummm… Long story made short – I told him if he wanted to spend time with me, he would have to show up on my doorstep when I just happen to be available. He tried a few times. I wasn’t available.

Needless to say, he stopped trying after that… and I had not seen him until this very moment of pulling up beside his truck. Surprisingly enough, he did not look so thrilled to see me!

After a quick but completely awkward exchange, he left and I went for a ride. The next morning I waltz into my unpaid therapist’s office at work and spill everything. This was the second guy I pissed off that week! I don’t try to make them mad. Why am I so good at making men angry?! (Could this be my spiritual gifting? Jesus made A LOT of people mad, right?….)

You see, Mr. CoffeeEncounter looked so pathetic and wounded that I initially felt guilty for the way I had treated him. But as I contemplated the situation on my motorcycle ride, I realized I had no reason to feel guilty. I reminded myself of all the reasons I gave him that “Show up when I’m not busy” ultimatum. The reasons boiled down to one primary “He always stands ME up!” No, no. I did nothing wrong.

As I stood in Mr. UnpaidTherapist’s office, I gave him a quick update of the situation and then asked him, “What am I doing wrong?!”

He laughed and began describing my Viking helmet. “Thor, you throw down the hammer.”

That’s it. That’s all the counsel he’s got for me. You see, a month or two ago Mr. UnpaidTherapist nicknamed me Thor. After I sought some clarification (“Are you telling me I look like a male demigod!?”] he assured me that the nickname is only due to my hammer throw-down. Apparently I throw down hammers all over the place… not just around guys I like. Not sure how to fix that. Or even if I should.

Reflections: Are you Dateable?

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A friend of mine steered me toward a new series regarding singleness. http://www.cbn.com/700club/features/voiceofhope/

I believe the first one I watched (Are you Dateable?) made a lot of sense, so I plan to watch and respond to each episode. Feel free to offer your own feedback after viewing.

The expert in the first episode refers back to Jesus’ words in Matthew 22:36-40:

“Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?”

Jesus said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”

I have to admit, I have always wondered about these words. Each and every time I read them, I ask the same question: What if you don’t love yourself? That word, “as”, holds a lot of power. I felt like jumping up and down when this man immediately addressed my ever-present question. I loved his point and I agree.

We are all screw-ups. We all make mistakes. We all act viciously at times. We all say things we regret. We all do things we regret. We all look in the mirror and find things we don’t like at times. We all have issues. Issues often make us ultra-aware of how unlovable we are.

Then there is God. The Bible is funny in that a large portion emphasizes mankind’s flaws. In other words, it agrees with all of our self-conscious, regretful, shame-faced feelings and says God is good, but we are not. And then it goes on to show that God deemed us lovable anyway! Although, we aren’t perfect, He proudly declares that we are made in His image! We disobeyed His loving guidance, and He gave us grace. “Try again. I’ll send my son, Jesus Christ, to give you another chance. And I will give you My Holy Spirit to help you along as well. It’s going to cost a lot… My son’s life, in fact. But you are worth it.”

I tear up as I envision my heavenly Father and His love for me. He offered up His only Begotten, in order to adopt me in! I can give Him my lopsided, scribbly picture – my attempt to portray the sunset He created… and rather than point out my mistakes and toss out my artwork, He smiles at that picture and hangs it upon His refrigerator. “That’s what my daughter drew for me!”

The Lord infuses value into His people. When I go to Him, I can pour out  my flaws, my weaknesses, all of my ISSUES, and God turns them all around. He heals me, teaches me, works with me, blesses me, and after all that when I screw up again, He keeps on loving me.

When I see the way He loves me, I cannot help but begin to see things from His perspective, and love myself as well.

And the Fears Emerge

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I can think of at least four men who would help me complete this challenge this very week. And although I’ve been told not to think, just to act – I can’t turn off my mind.

#4. I have no doubts that he is out to use me. He is completely gorgeous. But he’s also a total loser. He’s hit on me several times – but he seems to think that I won’t go out with him because I am a lesbian. I’m not. But I really haven’t argued with him about it because it’s so much easier not to like him when he believes that. And I don’t want to like him. Because he’s a loser. If I hit on him, I’m fairly certain he’d jump at the chance to date me. But I really think he’d be dating me in an effort to take everything from me that he possibly could. Drugs have eliminated his soul and I’d rather not mess around with a guy who has no soul.

#3. He’s rather unreliable, so it might take more than a week to get a date. But I am positive he would make it happen by the end of the month. Probably by the end of the week – because I’ve refused him the last three times and I think he’s getting eager to see me. So if I made a move, I think he’d take the bait right now. He seems like a pretty decent guy, but I can’t count on him for much of anything. I don’t think he knows how to put a relationship first. And he’s made clear that he does not want to get married. I’m not going to stay in any kind of long-term relationship that isn’t geared toward marriage. So I feel like any effort put into dating this guy would just lead to exhaustion, pain, and heartache in the long run. Why bother?

#2. This one also does drugs. But I’m confident that he still has a soul and that he actually cares about me. However, his addiction hinders his life from going forward. He can’t make much more than minimum wage where he works. But he’s told me he won’t really look for another job because other workplaces drug-test. I get along with him quite well. He’s a fabulous person to talk with. But it’s obvious that as long as his life is going nowhere, our relationship would go nowhere. I’d probably enjoy a few dates. But I would dump him quickly. He is the sensitive type. I would feel terrible afterward.

#1. He would follow me to the ends of the earth and do everything humanly possible to please me. I have never met a man quite so determined to be with me. One or two have come close. But he takes the cake. Nonetheless, we do not relate on an intellectual level. He is another one that I know I would dump.

I ran into a guy recently who asked me out months ago. When he asked me out, I tried to explain to him in the kindest way possible why we would not fit well together, and I rejected his offer. He is the type of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. I knew for some time that he liked me. His face lit up when I entered the room. He went out of his way to do things for me. I knew that eventually he would ask me out and I would have to explain my feelings of disinterest. Unfortunately, after that whole scenario played out, he did not miraculously change into a man who is difficult to read. He still wears his heart on his sleeve. Although it has been months, I hate running into him. When I see him, he looks so miserable. I feel like all he thinks when he sees me is, “There she is. There’s the girl who broke my heart.”

To sum this all up – I am pointing out the two primary reasons I do not date.

A)     I am afraid of being hurt or being used. (This is the issue with #4 and #3.)

B)      I am afraid of hurting or using someone else. (This is the issue with #2 and #1.)

I have a feeling that blog posts to follow over the next few weeks will get more serious than they have been for awhile… I am going to delve into fear.

Love-Struck (Emphasis on Struck)

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It was the day after I accepted the challenge. I crawled out of bed 15 minutes late, wobbled toward the bathroom to take my shower, and then rushed my morning routine in an effort to arrive at work almost at time. My workplace is exactly a 5-minute walk from my apartment. Sad truth is that when I’m tired and lazy in the morning, I often wait until I only have two minutes to get to work and I take my car instead of walking. If I could pull myself out of bed earlier I would walk each day. Or at least the vast majority of the time. I might drive in rain. However, it’s about half and half right now, and that particular day was an “I’m supposed to be at work in a minute and a half!” day. So I bolted out my door, fled down my steps, trotted toward the street, and stopped suddenly at the sight of my car. Insert *jaw dropping open*.

I was dumbfounded. I called work, told them I would be late, and basically panicked over the phone to my co-worker (I don’t know what to do! What should I do? What do you think I should do!?). Then I saw a note stuck under my windshield wiper.

First I assumed it was a ticket – which only added to the panic. I don’t really have the best relationship with PD in this town. But I mentally checked off every possible reason a cop could issue a ticket and cleared myself of that idea. I had done nothing to deserve a ticket.

Then I imagined a short note from the perpetrator stating something like, “Sorry I ruined your car. I don’t have insurance, so I had to go. Hope you get everything straightened out!”

I waddled my tired, but now terrified, body over to the car and grabbed the note. It was from a police officer stating that the person who backed into my car had reported the accident and was basically doing everything in his power to correct his mistake. A police report would be complete and available the next day. The name and number of the man who hit my car was also in the note. Relief washed over me.

I walked to work – feeling grateful for this unknown person’s integrity and also for the fact that I can walk to work.

On the way to my cubicle, I stopped in my friend’s office to show him my pictures and relate my morning’s adventures.  After listening to my explanation, he looks at me with eyebrows raised and says, “Maybe this happened for a reason. This guy sounds honest. Maybe you two were meant to meet…”

That was a guy talking. I thought women were supposed to be the romantics.

By lunchtime, two other coworkers had also suggested I date this random stranger who damaged my car. Might I add that I had not even seen this guy – had no idea how old he was – who he was – why he was on my street (which is kind of known for drug trafficking…) – if he is single – if he is straight – etc.

But apparently none of those details matter. He is obviously honest. So I’m told I should date him. Amazing how a wrecked car can turn into a matchmaking event in a cat lady’s life.

Free-Spirited Singleness

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I’m not a rebellious person. But I am a free spirit. Others often get the two mixed up.

I didn’t like to go to school. It’s natural to neglect that which you do not like… School was often neglected. My teachers told me if I did not show up to school, I would never show up to work and I would never hold down a real job. They mistook me for a rebel. A rebel does not show up because she is told to show up. A rebel is looking for someone or something to defy. A free spirit, on the other hand, is looking for a choice. A free spirit does not show up because she did not feel like showing up. A rebel can’t hold down a job because she cannot fight the compulsion to go against that which she is told. A free spirit can hold down a job, because she realizes choices have consequences, and those consequences help her decide how to make those choices she values so much.

I often skipped school to prove that I had a choice. I did not have to be there – although I was always told that I did. I went when I so desired. Many of my teachers viewed me as a rebel – acting out. In all reality, I was exercizing my love for freedom by escaping the prison I envisioned school to be.

I will always be a freedom-lover. It shows up in every aspect of my life. 90% I would choose to wear my seatbelt. No matter what. It’s a natural instinct to reach for the strap and stretch it across my body. But I resent the fact that wearing a seatbelt is forced upon me. If I don’t feel like wearing my seatbelt, I choose to flip off the government by hopping on my motorcycle instead. I equally resent that in New York it is mandatory to wear a helmet on a motorcycle. If I lived in another state, a state where riding without a helmet is legal, I would still choose to wear a helmet. Why? Because I appreciate my face. But I hate that I don’t have a choice where I live. I hate that my freedom is limited.

My free spirit, by nature, runs from boundaries. I felt as if my teeth were being pulled when a man asked me to commit to work for his company for at least a year during an interview. It took me at least three minutes to agree that I could commit for a year. I’m now approaching my fifth year with that same company. When I signed a year-long lease for my apartment, I nearly panicked. What if I want to move? What if I have the opportunity to live in another country before my lease is up? I sucked it up and signed the lease. My year has passed. Two months after my lease ended, my landlord and landlady brought before me a new lease. I told them that as long as I had a choice, I’d rather not sign a new one. I assured them I had no plans to move (because I don’t), but as long as I have access to that freedom – why give it up?

It’s this love for freedom that leads to my hesitation toward commitment. Hesitation? Okay, fear of commitment. Fear? Fine, terror.

I see a cage. It’s not that I do not want to get married. I want a choice. As long as I am single, I have a choice. If ever I get married, I will give up that freedom. It’s not that marriage is bad. It’s not that marriage should be compared to bondage. But it’s a commitment that eliminates the freedom I so enjoy. I imagine if I ever enter that covenant, it will be similar to my job or my lease. Despite my concerns, it will last and I will appreciate it until the end. But for my lease and for my job I promised a year. In marriage I will promise a lifetime. Anyone else feel intimidated by that?

Selfish Single

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I’ve expressed previously that sometimes the reason I remain single is purely due to selfishness. I don’t really know that I want to deal with all the stuff that comes with marriage and family. I don’t really want to give up the independence I have. I can travel on a whim. I can leave dirty dishes in my sink for three days straight.  I don’t have to share my kitty, my food, my apartment, my motorcycle… anything really… with anybody! And I enjoy that.

But I’ve also expressed previously that sometimes I get lonely. I was thinking about selfishness recently and I had a flashback from previous years. Allow me to share:

The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill (and came down with all the bananas)

Here’s the thing… I’m at the point where I am wondering if I am doing something wrong. As a general rule I am content. But am I content for the wrong reasons?

I have to make some decisions. Should I give a relationship a shot? Is it really worth it?

 

Mr. Good Enough?

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Still pondering this book by Lori Gottlieb called Marry Him [The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough]… I cannot help but wonder, have I misjudged any Mr. Good Enoughs in my own pursuit for Mr. Perfect?

Mr. Dominant was a stable, Christian man. Thoughtful. Kind. Chivalrous. Full of integrity, I have no doubt. But I call him Mr. Dominant for a reason – he’s your ultimate man’s man. Hard head. Strong backbone. He liked me because so far we agreed on many things. But I knew that the moment I disagreed with him, we would fight. We are both fighters – we would have to fight. And the fights would probably get vicious. He always struck me as the kind of guy who would throw out a statement like, “Woman, submit!” in a fierce argument. I turned him down.

Mr. Marijuana Enthusiast. He’s not Christian. Super laid-back. Friendly. Seems to be a good listener. Deep thinker. He’s the kind of guy who can be friends with anyone. And he also thinks pot should be legalized. I’ve only ever expressed one opinion against marijuana to him. I told him I didn’t think he should smoke before he rode his motorcycle because it would slow down his reflexes which is terribly dangerous on a bike. Ever since then he has taken every opportunity to tell me why marijuana is good and helpful to people or society as a whole. He is obviously an addict, as opposed to a social smoker. And I know where he works – I don’t know how he affords his habit. I avoid the relationship avenue in conversation. 

Mr. Too Shy to Say Hi. Christian. Seemed sweet. My pastor spoke extremely highly of him. Servant-hearted. That’s about all I know. Because he almost never talked. One day after I had known him and had been trying to pull him out of his shell for weeks, he walked up beside me and stopped. He just stood there next to me. I prayed to God and said, “If he says even one word I will talk to him. But he has to say something. Anything. Even just ‘hi’. I will not speak to him until he initiates.” After a good two minutes of silence, he walked away. I sighed in frustration, and pretty much completely ignored him from then on.

Mr. Excitable. Newly saved. Friends with my brother. Very expressive. Very talkative. Gushed over me. He was completely obsessed with alcohol and his new ability to buy it [I wasn’t 21 yet]. Asked me out seconds after he told me that he didn’t date girls my age. I laughed in his face. He never wanted to see me again.

Mr. Old Man. Not Christian. Great job – not only did he love his work, but he was successful. Polite. Friendly. Obviously interested in me – without seeming pervy – which was very flattering. Terrible with time management. Left me hanging several times. But always tried to make it up. Very generous. Workaholic. Refused to date him due to the difference in faith. If he became Christian… I would probably still refuse him because he is 16 years older than me. We’re still friendly acquaintances.

Mr. Hippie. Christian. Artistic. We seem to have similar life desires and interests. I’m amazed at how much we agree on nearly everything we discuss. And the discussions are fabulous. But the job thing is constantly fluctuating. Reliability in general kind of sucks. Haven’t made any real decisions about him yet.

Mr. Catholic. Christian – from the world’s perspective. But I want a man that I can view as my spiritual leader. And there is a lot about Catholicism that I disagree with wholeheartedly. Other than that, I think he’s great. Funny. Upbeat. Stable job. Shared hobby. Respectful. Nice to be around. I smile at the end of nearly every phone call. Even if he’s calling with a problem. Haven’t made any firm decisions about this one either.

Mr. Prince Charming. Christian. Tall, dark, and handsome. Values women. Treats his mother like an angel. Good job. Makes me laugh. Laid-back. He’s really a winner all-around. I would TOTALLY date him. But he’s never asked me out… Am I aiming too high?

Well -these are a few… What do you think, guys? Was I too harsh? Am I as bad as the girls in Gottlieb’s book that I scoffed at? I want to know: In a man’s opinion, have I passed up (or am I passing up)  a Mr. Good Enough in a way that I shouldn’t have?

Are my current reservations legitimate? Or am I being too picky – even unreasonable? 

Girls, I want to know what you think as well. Have you passed up a Mr. Good Enough, only to cry about it later? What would you consider a dealbreaker?

Give a Guy a Chance

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$6. I couldn’t resist. The book is called Marry Him [The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough]. I had to hear the argument.

As a single, I cannot count the number of times I’ve been told, “Never settle! Don’t get married until you find your Mr. Right. Keep waiting. You will find your man when the timing is right.” ….

What did this author (who is female – to my shock!) have to tell me that could contradict those words I’ve heard from others over the years? When I saw the title, I first expected the author to be male. I suspected a man frustrated by being passed up by beautiful women, who finally had too much – and lashed out in a book begging women to accept the “good enough” guys out there like him. When I saw that the book was authored by a woman named Lori Gottlieb instead, I paused – and wondered what points she would bring to the table. And whether or not other women would respect her opinion or rage against her theory.

Just to state my own opinion upfront: I loved the book.

To clear things up a bit, she was not talking about settling for a guy who works at McDonald’s as opposed to the Pentagon. She did not refer to the man who is in a rehab program as opposed to the man who never struggled with addiction. She wasn’t talking about “good enough” men as in the those who are barely stable or in opposition to men who are intelligent and successful. See below the kinds of guys Gottlieb referenced – as well as some of the reasons different women rejected them:

  • He’s 5’7″. She always hoped for 6’2″.
  • “He was very loving but he wasn’t romantic enough… I wanted a guy who sent flowers.” (page 20)
  • “He brought me flowers, but cheesy ones that just spoke to bad taste…” (page 20)
  • He’s stable. But she finds him too predictable. Mr. Right is more exciting.
  • He was bald. “I’d always been attracted to guys who had the kind of hair you could run your fingers through.” (page 21)
  • He was too optimistic. “I didn’t want to ‘look on the bright side’ all the time.” (page 21)
  • “He loved me too much… I wanted more of a manly man.” (page 22)
  • He’d never seen Casablanca. She wanted someone more “refined”.

Guys, if you are shaking your head in disgust at the terrible reason these women rejected perfectly reasonable men, rest assured that I am also. This book did a wonderful justice to the average guy who has been overlooked by the self-centered woman time and time again.

Mr. Right doesn’t have to be tall, dark and handsome. Tall, dark and handsome may break your heart. Mr. Right was actually short, stocky, and incredibly sweet – but you wouldn’t have anything to do with him. You didn’t see him because you were looking for perfect. But in your hopeless search for perfection, you passed up the man who was good enough. Good enough isn’t such a bad catch when you realize Perfect doesn’t exist anyway.