“You’re too picky.”
“Give him a chance.”
“He’s employed and doesn’t live with his mother: What else matters?”
“What’s wrong with a pastel-plaid, short-sleeve, button-down dress shirt?”
Countless times, my friends and family tried to understand what suddenly turned me off of a seemingly reasonable, available suitor. Even more times, I’ve wondered why these same people think that because I’m single, and they know this single guy, we should date. This goes for you, too, Mom: the landscaper, the roofer, even the mortgage banker for the bank you picketed—really, Mom?
If you’ve ever dated, you know what I’m talking about. Sometimes, you don’t exactly know what’s off, but you KNOW something is off, and that’s enough. If you’re like me, you try to rationalize it some superfluous way: “He crosses his legs...like a girl,” “He wears mandals with socks,” “He’s a Cub’s fan,” “He wears mandals withOUT socks,” “What’s with the pinky ring there, Guido?”
Suppose you agree to meet your best friend’s boyfriend’s second cousin, Bob, who is divorced and moved here from Boston eight months ago... Bob is a terrific, nice guy! He dresses great, looks cute, has a fun accent, earned a degree in architecture from Yale, busts up puppy mills, and volunteers for Habitat for Humanity. Bob is paper-perfect, but the two of you quickly identify that there’s no spark.
Like shoes that don’t fit, you find that 5 hours is 3 hours too long. You can’t cut off your foot, but when you’re gimping your way through hour 4, you know you won’t wear those shoes again. It only takes a couple of minutes to turn a pinch into a blister.
The fact is someone else will be more than happy to walk 9 yards in your shoes.
* * *
While watching a science show one evening (this is the kind of thing single women do, contrary to what single and married men prefer to imagine), I heard a simple statement from a paleontologist channeling Darwin.
“The female of the species MUST be selective. She alone determines which traits are carried on to the next generation, and which die off for her species.”
I was instantly reassured. I wasn’t picky: I was selective!
Natural selection. Even females in the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods practiced natural selection—and were inarguably more successful than human beings today. Yes, dinosaurs eventually became extinct, but not as a direct result of natural selection. These creatures dominated the vertebrate world for over 160 million years due to their successful practice of natural selection.
A female triceratops, for example, would accept the male with the largest frill or the longest horns. Tyrannosaurus Rex had a considerably high brain-to-body size ratio and demonstrated comparatively evolved skills, making her particularly discerning of her mate selection. These females selected males with specific traits related to size and intelligence—key factors in survival for their offspring.
Many thousands of years ago, natural selection served a critical purpose in ensuring the survival of our own species into generations. Natural selection discouraged obvious genetic defects from being passed on to the next generation. Choice dominant traits were passed on, such as those for height, strength, and intelligence enough to run clear of the Mammoth stampede.
Think about it in your own life. The poor bird that kamikazes into the grill of your car...Strange, unmarried Great-Uncle Ed who can wiggle his ears...Paul Reubens...
* * *
Unless you live in The Hood, you probably aren’t looking for the biggest, baddest dude to be your baby daddy. No one is going to try and kick you out of your cave or eat your children. I do admit I stopped dating a really sweet, adorable guy that confessed he cut off and had reattached four of his fingers. He used a table saw when he was drunk. Do I want to tap that gene pool? That's just nine miles of bad road in all directions.
But what are we all looking for, I mean, once we're actually looking? What about ourselves do we use to attract and retain a partner? How do men feel about the playing field being more level today than 50 years ago? After all, women don’t need men to provide for them or their offspring. How does that fact affect a man’s pursuit of a woman—or even the type of woman he pursues?
Back in the dark ages, Ms. T-Rex was ahead of her time. She was smart, she was selective, and she was not to be taken lightly: She averaged 30% larger than the males that besought her. When Mr. T approached her, he did so knowing that if he so much as looked at her the wrong way, he’d be pushing up daisies. Yet, Mr. T bolstered his ego and did his damnedest to prove he was worth her time.
Did he insult her? Was he cocky? How did he earn the attention of such a bootilicious beastette? He was cautious, respectful, attentive, and he didn’t give her any crap.
With the qualities of a gentleman, he was not only allowed to live, but to also partake in The Cookie! And you know what else? Mr. T was a responsible mate that helped her raise their offspring. No kidding.
So what the eff happened to humans?
Natural selection used to be the master puppeteer behind The Hookup. Now, we have hairstylists, BMWs, Invisiline, and alcohol.
Let’s go there. The junk drawer. The back end of your closet. The fat jeans in your bottom drawer. The First-Names-Only Club in your cell phone.
We’re going to an area of your life you haven’t likely been in a while—an area you dread because it shines a spotlight on all the flaws in your design.
If you don’t know what you’re looking for, how will you know when you find it?
So, what are you looking for? What’s on YOUR list? More interesting though, how has your list changed over the years? The list you drafted while bleeding your heart out after The Big Breakup of 2007 can’t possibly be the same list penned into your diary on May 11, 1989 after prom went horribly wrong.
And what of your standards, which first reared their uptight heads when you gave it up to your boyfriend of two months after he presented his class ring and swallowed you up in an Air Supply song? Your standards are much more than “Must Love Dogs” by now.
How has divorce—yours, your parents’, your BFF’s—affected your list?
And how about the painfully recent dry spell even a camel would cry about? Yeah, we all know why you’ve been so cranky lately.
You may not know exactly what you’re looking for, but I’d bet your New Year’s date you know what you do NOT want. When I began dating after divorce, I had NO idea what I was looking for other than NOT HIM. Truly, I was undateable despite what men wanted to believe. In time, I came around to a less antagonistic point of view.
So before it’s too late and you find yourself having another “what was I thinking” moment and wishing you could bathe brain-and-body in bleach, do one thing your mama told you to do: Write down what you’re looking for in a life partner.
Is he poetically articulate? Is she spunky and hilariously clever? Does it matter what he does for a living or how old she is? Does he need to know what a carburetor does?
And PLEASE, make your list before you make that second date or allow yourself to wonder “what if.” This is nonnegotiable. If you find yourself smiling all the time for no apparent reason or dusting the night tables on both sides of the bed, you’re too late.
If you try and make the list after, say the first great kiss, you’ll find the list surprisingly sounds like Ms./Mr. Right Now.
Sure, sure, your next date may be your last first kiss, but this ain’t no Nora Ephron movie, and no one smiles about dial-up anymore.
It’s time to be selective. It's your right. You deserve the best.
Believe it.
'Cause unless you’re looking for a Knights Inn, your only requirement shouldn’t be “availability.”
