Despite strenuous arguments, denials, and emphatic statements to the contrary, I have had to admit recently that I do in fact have a type. Not a physical one exactly, although most of the men I fancy do remind me uncannily of either Jason Bateman or a young Davy Jones, (shut up! it's the dark hair, dark eyes combination, okay?). I do find a guy with brains, sensitivity, a cracking sense of humour and a healthy dose of arrogant charm more than a little intoxicating, but it isn't exactly about personality traits, either. What seems to attract me like a death row inmate to a loose-moralled appeals judge is not the handsome guy, the cheeky guy, the smart guy or the funny guy...it is the unattainable guy.
You know the guy I mean; he's the one who, despite your best efforts, seems determined not to test the friendship. The one who affectionately refers to you as his 'Best Friend,' or 'The sister I never had.' The one who sends you a smiley face, then liberally hands out wink emoticons to all two hundred and fifty eight of his other female Twitter followers and Facebook friends. You could carry on an entire Skype conversation with him, wearing nothing but a smile, and he would still regale you with details of his naughty night out with the deceptively sedate looking school teacher he met on E-harmony. My mother sagely advised me as a teenager that, when it came to women, men loved a challenge. Not for them, the loyal, dependable, readily available girl who hung on their every word. The chick who promised them the least would invariably end up being the one they wanted most. I don't believe this is true of all men, any more than I believe that all men love football and hate quiche. Furthermore, I don't believe that it is an exclusively male behaviour quirk. How could I, when it informs my very own choices?
You could stick identical twins before me, each boasting the same dark eyes, the same cheeky smile, the same irresistible Buddy Love type humour and bravado, the same leg-opening sensitivity, and I would still go for the one cruising Facebook chicks on his Iphone. And now I know why.
The challenge of it! Fabulous as it is to be wanted by anyone, there's still no better ego stroker than snaring the creature who you had to chase through miles of rough terrain to get a clear shot at. The one who put up the biggest fight is the one whose skin feels the most exquisite wrapped around your own on the living room floor in front of a roaring log fire. I realise now that I've been choosing men like this my entire life and although I know that it's a pretty self-defeating practice, I can't seem to stop, and I have to wonder; is my need for gratification going to end up costing me long term satisfaction?
Am I the only woman who does this? Let me know in the comments...I'm begging you. Lol.
Showing posts with label personality types. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personality types. Show all posts
Sunday, 12 February 2012
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
Dating for dumb-arses.
I swore I'd never do it again, but boredom and lack of inspiration in terms of subject matter conspired to have me consult a dating advice site for men, in the hopes that I would either be pleasantly surprised and be able to post a positive review of one of these damn things for a change, or that it would provide sufficient comic material to relieve the dry spell that's left this blog looking rather bleak of late.
It excelled in the latter respect.
Upon entering the site, I typed the following key phrase into the search box: Single women over thirty survey. The article that came up in response wasn't actually anything to do with a survey, but the 'information,' (and I use the word in the same context as a reporter from the National Enquirer would use it), contained therein proved to be just as side-splittingly stereotypical. What I found most captivating was the section entitled: Types of women you'll meet.
How wonderful, I thought, tongue firmly planted in cheek; this wise and altruistic gentleman is going to use his experience and vast knowledge of the female psyche to pigeon-hole women into types, making them easily identifiable by virtue of their behavioural traits so that his fellow man may pick out the perfect breed, I'm sorry, 'type' for their emotional and physical needs.
The canine adoption analogy may seem harsh, but it's also hysterically apt once you read these personality descriptions.
THE DIVORCEE. ...you'll probably be told how happy she is to be rid of the louse. You may be in for a lot of man-bashing. On the other hand, if you're looking for some good, vengeful sex, you're in the right place.
Maybe it's just me, but I don't imagine that most men would find the idea of spending the night with a woman crowing about how much she hates her ex, and screaming: 'Men should eat shit and die' between "Oh god' and 'Oh yes' while ripping out tufts of their chest hair to be a very powerful aphrodisiac. Speaking for myself, I still love men, and should I be fortunate enough to have sex again this millennium, I wouldn't waste time picturing any of my exes whilst in the throws of passion. To describe how I'd feel if an image of an ex popped into my head just as I was about to drift into the blissful abyss more succinctly, I'll use a term that's popular with the youngsters these days; Eeeew!
THE ETERNALLY SINGLE WOMAN. There's a reason she's eternally single - she's not really sure what she wants. You'll realise she fits into this category when you get to talking and she tells you all the things she's looking for in a man, and each sentence contradicts the one before. She'll want you to be the most spontaneous guy around, but you'd better plan out that spontaneity to the last detail for her. With loads of patience, maybe you can sift through her delirium...maybe.
Huh. And here I thought crazy chicks were a turn-on.
THE CAREER WOMAN. She'll get straight to the point. She's a busy woman with little time to waste on games. There's a life plan in motion and a man is but one aspect in the greater scheme. The good news is she's ambitious and will get what she wants out of life. The bad news is you may be just another prize.
The seed this one planted in my mind germinated into an awesome mental picture. I could just see her, the uber-successful executive; six feet tall with a Pamela Anderson head and Madonna body, blasting one of her under-performing minions on the phone while barking out instructions to the potential new mate feverishly applying for a position under her desk, which he would only get if he was willing to be on call twenty four hours a day to service her and fit the particular employee demographic she had her eyes on that month. All the writer forgot to add was her ability to snap unworthy men's necks between her knees.
THE SUGAR DADDY WOMAN. When the first words out of her mouth are 'How much do you make?'get ready for expenditures. This honey wants to be pampered, and you can own her, but for a price. If this is your ideal and you have enough bling-bling, you're all set to go. She'll do her part in bed and on your arm at functions and charity events, just don't expect too much and keep the cash flowing.
If there are still men who only desire a trophy woman, and I pray to God, Alla, Buddha and the benevolent creators of chocolate that there aren't, I know of a venue that has an abundance of them; it's called an escort service.
It excelled in the latter respect.
Upon entering the site, I typed the following key phrase into the search box: Single women over thirty survey. The article that came up in response wasn't actually anything to do with a survey, but the 'information,' (and I use the word in the same context as a reporter from the National Enquirer would use it), contained therein proved to be just as side-splittingly stereotypical. What I found most captivating was the section entitled: Types of women you'll meet.
How wonderful, I thought, tongue firmly planted in cheek; this wise and altruistic gentleman is going to use his experience and vast knowledge of the female psyche to pigeon-hole women into types, making them easily identifiable by virtue of their behavioural traits so that his fellow man may pick out the perfect breed, I'm sorry, 'type' for their emotional and physical needs.
The canine adoption analogy may seem harsh, but it's also hysterically apt once you read these personality descriptions.
THE DIVORCEE. ...you'll probably be told how happy she is to be rid of the louse. You may be in for a lot of man-bashing. On the other hand, if you're looking for some good, vengeful sex, you're in the right place.
Maybe it's just me, but I don't imagine that most men would find the idea of spending the night with a woman crowing about how much she hates her ex, and screaming: 'Men should eat shit and die' between "Oh god' and 'Oh yes' while ripping out tufts of their chest hair to be a very powerful aphrodisiac. Speaking for myself, I still love men, and should I be fortunate enough to have sex again this millennium, I wouldn't waste time picturing any of my exes whilst in the throws of passion. To describe how I'd feel if an image of an ex popped into my head just as I was about to drift into the blissful abyss more succinctly, I'll use a term that's popular with the youngsters these days; Eeeew!
THE ETERNALLY SINGLE WOMAN. There's a reason she's eternally single - she's not really sure what she wants. You'll realise she fits into this category when you get to talking and she tells you all the things she's looking for in a man, and each sentence contradicts the one before. She'll want you to be the most spontaneous guy around, but you'd better plan out that spontaneity to the last detail for her. With loads of patience, maybe you can sift through her delirium...maybe.
Huh. And here I thought crazy chicks were a turn-on.
THE CAREER WOMAN. She'll get straight to the point. She's a busy woman with little time to waste on games. There's a life plan in motion and a man is but one aspect in the greater scheme. The good news is she's ambitious and will get what she wants out of life. The bad news is you may be just another prize.
The seed this one planted in my mind germinated into an awesome mental picture. I could just see her, the uber-successful executive; six feet tall with a Pamela Anderson head and Madonna body, blasting one of her under-performing minions on the phone while barking out instructions to the potential new mate feverishly applying for a position under her desk, which he would only get if he was willing to be on call twenty four hours a day to service her and fit the particular employee demographic she had her eyes on that month. All the writer forgot to add was her ability to snap unworthy men's necks between her knees.
THE SUGAR DADDY WOMAN. When the first words out of her mouth are 'How much do you make?'get ready for expenditures. This honey wants to be pampered, and you can own her, but for a price. If this is your ideal and you have enough bling-bling, you're all set to go. She'll do her part in bed and on your arm at functions and charity events, just don't expect too much and keep the cash flowing.
If there are still men who only desire a trophy woman, and I pray to God, Alla, Buddha and the benevolent creators of chocolate that there aren't, I know of a venue that has an abundance of them; it's called an escort service.
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