antikris:

I don’t spend my money on highlights or fake nails. I don’t cook well. I have never dreamt of my perfect wedding since I was a wee little girl. My shoes don’t always match my belt, wait…I don’t wear belts! My hair is usually up because I am too lazy to spend 30 minutes each day blow drying and curling. I enjoy dry comedy, not romantic. I don’t like flowers and don’t wear jewelry. But all things considered, I still think of myself as feminine. Wise cracks come more frequently than sweet sentiments, and the occasional burp rolls out intentionally, but what is it that defines femininity?

You see, in a non-heated conversation I was told by the man I am currently seeing that he would never consider me the type to be committed to. I am the best friend. I am the guaranteed laugh. But I am never the courted, the one to be put on a pedestal, the one to be loved. Let me clarify to save face……I wasn’t asking for anything, and don’t know that I even want anything. This was just casual banter between two drunkards standing on the street. We just so happen to be seeing each other “casually” (whatever that means). I wouldn’t say disappointment is the emotion I was left with. I guess confusion is a better suited word for this situation.

Now I know had I ended this blog with the two previous paragraphs I would have got a lot of “what the hell is wrong with this dude?” comments, but this is just it……it isn’t just him that has said this to me. Actually several men I have dated for a brief period of time have told me that yes, they do adore me, and yes, they are attracted to me, but no, they wouldn’t consider me the type to “take home to mom” so to speak.

I guess my purpose for writing this is just to put into words one more question I have in regards to all you Y chromosomes. Do the submissive beat those with substance?

I feel like Watts, always losing to Ms. Amanda Jones

I would like to hope not, that substance does beat submissive, but as I am noticing in my 20’s, submissive is winning by a perfectly coiffed hair. So I’m taking myself out of “the game”. Thus it ceases to exist. I am practicing the “George Bush” way of dealing with things: if I don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist.