And like dogs, they just know. Your post-feminist need for self-power is all tangled up with your pre-war sentiment for being taken care of. Maybe your motivation to be independent is mangled with your fear of aging alone. Or maybe he couldn’t be more wrong for you but you couldn’t be more attracted to him. Whatever. They can smell it. Or more accurately, you create unnecessary stinks because of it. Work that stuff out sister. Relationships are work enough. No one’s looking for a partner with major afflictions.
You’re attracted to schmucks
Pursue the banker jerk, the artsy pothead or the emotionally unavailable player, and what you get, is a fun tryst with a banker jerk, an artsy pothead or an emotionally unavailable player. Sure they’re fun to play with, but don’t start whining when you realize they are exactly what you always knew they were in the first place. Because we love to say I told you so. And we will. If you can’t help but pick these fools out over and over (and over) again, get your ass to therapy and try to figure out why you only want love from people who can’t possibly give it to you.
You only want love from people who can’t possibly give it to you.
Maybe it started as a fear of commitment. Maybe it was a deep-seated insecurity. Maybe you’re a lesbian. Whatever. You’re not thirteen anymore. Stop mistaking the thrill of pursuit with the thrill of interest. Yes I’m talking to you who only likes guys who don’t like her. If you say you want love but you only date those who would never be able to give it to you, or even more fucked up, people with whom you know you could never work your differences out, you’re not unlucky in love, you’re just running from yourself.
You need to get your post-Friedan feminist ass back in the kitchen.
But hold on before you start crucifying, because not literally: there is something to be said for all the liberated chics out there pining away without a man. I’m not saying that women have come too far, I’m saying men didn’t travel there with them. Society prepared you to take charge. But who prepared him to let go? Nine times out of ten he’s still living in the “Hi Honey I’m Home” fantasy world where he plays moneymaker and you play piebaker. Emotionally anyway. The whole aggressive, tell-him-he-better-call-you, take-charge-leave-no-mystery, make-him-feel-he’s-dating-another dude act’s not working sister. Back down or be single.
Third time is not a charm.
Who started this nonsense? I’d call it a wive’s tale but chics who give tail after three dates rarely become wives. And five is not the new three. Besides, don’t you think they’ve all learned that rule by now anyway? Your pikachu’s your power. Don’t give it away until he establishes a consistent history of responsibility. You need to know he’ll call you the next day. He needs to know he needs to call you the next day. And by the way, you are not Samantha Jones. So don’t even play. There’s no such thing as sex without female attachment (read up on oxytocin and attachment formation if you somehow missed this little bit of college female enlightenment).
Your cheekbones aren’t as high as your standards are.
Certain guys like girls who look like golddiggers; it makes them look rich. If you’re someone real, looking for something real (or even someone fake looking to change your ways) stop looking for the perfect resume. If he’s short on height, he can still be long on love. Hasn’t already made his first million, doesn’t mean he won’t. Missing some hair, well, we all have our limits. But be honest. You’re no divine creation yourself. Loosen up those restrictions.
You think all perfect men are either taken or gay.
Cliché, perhaps, but true. A single man can’t possibly be perfect unless he a) wants to be a woman or b) already has one. And news flash: a straight guy without any flaws is called a player. Men by nature are unpolished creatures; they’re a little emotionally retarded, don’t exactly know how to dress, and if they don’t eat like a pig they probably live like one. So what if he wears pleat-front pants and lets out a burp after he chews? Nothing a little patience and strategic thinking can’t do
You need to move on.
You know what you want. It’s that little thing that hurts inside every time you fall asleep at night. So stop making the same mistakes over and over and have the audacity to grow. Or if you have some half ass in your life and still feel that, break free and give yourself the chance to meet someone else. Unrequieted love’s nice for Shakespeare and 23 year olds, but chances are you’re neither. The best loves are mutual: a little more boring, but a lot less tragic.