Ladies, after centuries of trying to combat our reluctant roles as apologetic, wilting flowers, we have made great strides to ensure the equality and empowerment of our fellow females. And yet, we remain our biggest obstacle.
Why is it that after each failed attempt at flirting, each awkward first date, and hours of analyzing the punctuation (or lack thereof) in a text message, we consistently arrive at the same self-deprecating question: What is wrong with me?
I am not the first woman to explore this issue, and I will certainly not be the last, but nevertheless, it's a topic that, I believe, must be addressed until we get it right.
Let me tell you a quick story. I had dinner (and way too much wine) with a very good girlfriend of mine last night, Sammy. {Sammy is a nickname, it's short for Salmon - the pet name given to her by the ManBoy. While she has graciously offered herself up as fair game for my blog, she has asked to be referred to under a pseudonym.}
Sammy is recently single. She's adorable - smart, pretty, fun-loving, always in a good mood, and endlessly kind. Not to mention, she has an enviable wardrobe, a sick body, and a kickass job. In short, Sammy's a catch, no question. {And seriously, I'm not just saying that because she's my friend and is probably reading this}. If she has a fault, it's one she shares with many women out there, she tends to forget how great she is.
Now, I don't want to harp on her too much, and, I understand that in the wake of a breakup, everyone does a gut check and asks, "Was it me?", but over the course of our conversation last night, I found myself wondering, What is that? Why do we do that?
Last weekend Sammy decided to join two of her girlfriends for a night out. While her friends admitted to being on the prowl for young, eligible, Manhattan bachelors, Sammy agreed to join them strictly as a wingman. But, amidst her playing the spectator and sipping her Johnnie Walker Black on the rocks (I know, I'll never be as cool as she is), she caught the eye of a cute, 20-something single.
They hit-it-off. He was outgoing, funny and gentlemanly. They had great chemistry, a compatible sense of humor, and the same favorite superhero. They had a great time and exchanged numbers.
After she decided to text him first (go girl!), they agreed to meet for dinner on Monday night.
She was eager to spend another great night with this seemingly confident, straight-shooting, good-time guy. And yet, upon arriving at dinner, it seemed as though he'd done a complete 180 overnight. No longer the playful, quick-witted stranger she'd met Saturday night, this boy was shy and quiet and reluctant to bear the brunt of the conversation - causing her to ramble on endlessly to avoid the dreaded awkward silence that was bound to ensue had she not continued to come up with topics to discuss and questions to ask.
By the end of the night her head was spinning (and her mouth was dry from all the talking). She couldn't help but consider a series of nagging questions. Am I less cute today than I was Saturday? Did he find me dull? Stupid? Is he just not as into me as he'd let on? Then why did he suggest dinner? and on and on and on... Not once, however, did the thought cross her mind, that perhaps he does like her and was nervous, maybe she's intimidating because she presents herself with such confidence, maybe he has some self-esteem issues that are best confronted with excess humor...you get the point.
The next day, expecting not to hear from him, Sammy received a text message. He continued to make electronic small talk throughout the day, but has not yet asked to see her again. Like most of us, she's just not sure what to make of this. You know us girls and our love of interpreting texts (Newsflash: I've recently learned that guys do it too...but that's another post for another day).
So a great night out + an awkward first date + indecipherable texts = What? We're not sure yet, and perhaps it adds up to nothing (and that's OK). But, the more important question remains:
Why are we so quick to judge ourselves when things don't go as planned?
Stop apologizing for being cute, successful, smart, funny, and able to hold down your Scotch. Stop analyzing the subtext of a text (that may or may not even be there). Start realizing how great you are, and that the boy who didn't call or text or buy you a drink, is really just doing you the favor of letting you know he's not worth it, right up front (rather than forcing you to figure it out for yourself down the line).
So Sammy, no, you're not going to spend an eternity in the land of Single Gals. You're a catch, and you just need to remember that there's a guy out there who will be able to live up to the challenge....you just might not find him out at Phebe's on a Saturday night.
Why is it that after each failed attempt at flirting, each awkward first date, and hours of analyzing the punctuation (or lack thereof) in a text message, we consistently arrive at the same self-deprecating question: What is wrong with me?
I am not the first woman to explore this issue, and I will certainly not be the last, but nevertheless, it's a topic that, I believe, must be addressed until we get it right.
Let me tell you a quick story. I had dinner (and way too much wine) with a very good girlfriend of mine last night, Sammy. {Sammy is a nickname, it's short for Salmon - the pet name given to her by the ManBoy. While she has graciously offered herself up as fair game for my blog, she has asked to be referred to under a pseudonym.}
Sammy is recently single. She's adorable - smart, pretty, fun-loving, always in a good mood, and endlessly kind. Not to mention, she has an enviable wardrobe, a sick body, and a kickass job. In short, Sammy's a catch, no question. {And seriously, I'm not just saying that because she's my friend and is probably reading this}. If she has a fault, it's one she shares with many women out there, she tends to forget how great she is.
Now, I don't want to harp on her too much, and, I understand that in the wake of a breakup, everyone does a gut check and asks, "Was it me?", but over the course of our conversation last night, I found myself wondering, What is that? Why do we do that?
Last weekend Sammy decided to join two of her girlfriends for a night out. While her friends admitted to being on the prowl for young, eligible, Manhattan bachelors, Sammy agreed to join them strictly as a wingman. But, amidst her playing the spectator and sipping her Johnnie Walker Black on the rocks (I know, I'll never be as cool as she is), she caught the eye of a cute, 20-something single.
They hit-it-off. He was outgoing, funny and gentlemanly. They had great chemistry, a compatible sense of humor, and the same favorite superhero. They had a great time and exchanged numbers.
After she decided to text him first (go girl!), they agreed to meet for dinner on Monday night.
She was eager to spend another great night with this seemingly confident, straight-shooting, good-time guy. And yet, upon arriving at dinner, it seemed as though he'd done a complete 180 overnight. No longer the playful, quick-witted stranger she'd met Saturday night, this boy was shy and quiet and reluctant to bear the brunt of the conversation - causing her to ramble on endlessly to avoid the dreaded awkward silence that was bound to ensue had she not continued to come up with topics to discuss and questions to ask.
By the end of the night her head was spinning (and her mouth was dry from all the talking). She couldn't help but consider a series of nagging questions. Am I less cute today than I was Saturday? Did he find me dull? Stupid? Is he just not as into me as he'd let on? Then why did he suggest dinner? and on and on and on... Not once, however, did the thought cross her mind, that perhaps he does like her and was nervous, maybe she's intimidating because she presents herself with such confidence, maybe he has some self-esteem issues that are best confronted with excess humor...you get the point.
The next day, expecting not to hear from him, Sammy received a text message. He continued to make electronic small talk throughout the day, but has not yet asked to see her again. Like most of us, she's just not sure what to make of this. You know us girls and our love of interpreting texts (Newsflash: I've recently learned that guys do it too...but that's another post for another day).
So a great night out + an awkward first date + indecipherable texts = What? We're not sure yet, and perhaps it adds up to nothing (and that's OK). But, the more important question remains:
Why are we so quick to judge ourselves when things don't go as planned?
Stop apologizing for being cute, successful, smart, funny, and able to hold down your Scotch. Stop analyzing the subtext of a text (that may or may not even be there). Start realizing how great you are, and that the boy who didn't call or text or buy you a drink, is really just doing you the favor of letting you know he's not worth it, right up front (rather than forcing you to figure it out for yourself down the line).
So Sammy, no, you're not going to spend an eternity in the land of Single Gals. You're a catch, and you just need to remember that there's a guy out there who will be able to live up to the challenge....you just might not find him out at Phebe's on a Saturday night.
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