Picture
it with me, friends: A pretty brunette donning her best McQueen dress and
vintage Louboutin pumps, quietly sipping from her champagne glass and observing
the gentleman in front of her. The gentleman in question is her dream man: A
doctor. A musician. A liberal activist. (Whatever, use your imagination.) But
he’s tall, dark and handsome. He has the type of debonair quality that John F.
Kennedy possessed. He has dark, somber eyes that hold all the secrets of his
soul. He drinks Irish whiskey on the rocks without wincing in disgust because
that’s what men do. He is a modern Donald Draper. He is Hugh Jackman. Gerard
Butler. Just humble enough to find adorable but projects the sort of self
confidence that leaves women weak at the knees. He is her dream man.
The
thing is that while she is sitting there, observing him and sipping from her
aforementioned glass of champagne, she isn’t REALLY observing him. She’s busy
planning their fifty thousand dollar wedding in her head. She’s naming their
future children because obviously, you have to test the proverbial child’s name
with his last name to see if the relationship is even worth trying for. This
classy lady isn’t listening to a word that escapes his perfect lips. She’s
envisioning their life together.
It’s
just that such seemingly charming conversation doesn’t come along so often. “We
had a connection,” she’ll cry to her friends over salad and martinis. “I can’t
get him out of my head,” she will justifiably whine, “Why would he say those
things if he didn’t mean them?” What I’m getting at is: Why do men end up with, and in some cases marry, the very obviously
wrong girl?
“If the world
were a logical place, men would ride side saddle.” –Rita Mae Brown
A
million years ago, I was deemed the Apple by a man I was once casually involved
with. “The Apple” is a phrase coined to describe something that you really want
that you know is terrible for you. The Apple is the proverbial forbidden fruit
and I think I can speak for everyone when I say that there is something
dangerously delicious in poisonous women (and men). As sassy as the Apple
position is, the truth is that the long term decision is usually the safer one.
So that pretty brunette cries in her booze because she was hazardous to her
dream man’s health, no matter how stimulating the conversation.
I
spoke about this type of scenario with a very dear lady friend of mine. In a
backward way, she had become the Apple in her seemingly serious relationship.
After some time, it appeared that they were walking on the same path (exchanged
the phrase “I love you” and the like) until one day, her gentleman caller resorted
back to an old flame. He reentered a previous relationship because it was
comfortable. It was safe. And no matter how luscious and thrilling of an
atmosphere my friend actualized for her dream man, he took a step backward and
retreated home to the safe zone.
“Can you
imagine a world without men? No crime and lots of fat, happy women.” –Marion
Smith
Not
so long after that, she told me that she just wanted him to be happy. Which, by
the way, I found to be very admirable because when I’m scorned, I’ve already
picked out the place I’m going to bury the body…
“I
don’t understand men,” she spoke to me and blinked her startling aqua eyes.
“All that I want is a tall, sexy, yummy man to wear my scandalous panties for.”
When she said that it really struck me because what’s weird is, women are truly
so easy to please. Now, men? It’s like they want things difficult. If they have
a girl who can show them the world, they’d rather ditch her and choose the easy
route. I don’t understand how this becomes such a complicated decision to make.
Is it just because they’re lazy and would prefer to reside in the doldrums?
The
frustration for women is: Why aren’t I good enough for him? What don’t I have?
Especially because the scenario that typically plays out is said dream man sits
there and whines about the “safe” girl. We’ve all seen it and nearly every man
is guilty of it. So naturally, when these complaints are made, it gives the
Apple a feeling of confidence because the hypothetical safe girl is seemingly
undesired.
Fast
forward a few months and umpteen unreturned phone calls later: You’re the
Apple. He wants you but it’s too reckless of a choice for the theoretical
straight laced Don Draper. Thanks but no thanks. He’ll just stick with the
unassailable girl and remain out of harm’s way, no matter how juicy and
delicious this particular Apple is.
Moral
of the Crazy: If I could identify myself with any one famous person, I would
choose three (I don’t like being forced to pick one. It doesn’t seem fair.):
June Carter. Leslie Knope. Kimber Henry. I’m sweet and reserved. Painfully
neurotic and strive to be the most sensual but practical version of myself. I’m
a hopeless romantic but I try my best to maintain a realistic view on
everything. I’m crazy but in the most fun, sexy way that exists. I’ve earned
the names “Crazy Face” and “Apple”. I may not be the safest choice but if you
were to ask my husband, he would maintain that my neuroses are a part of my
charm. He would say that he picked the most delicious apple on the crazy tree.
Be
gorgeous. Be bold. Be loved for you.
“Sometimes I
wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next
door and just visit now and then.” –Katharine Hepburn
Comments
Post a Comment