My piece on perfectionism and the scarcity narrative is up at Jezebel: How The “Good Guys Are Hard To Find” Narrative Hurts Women. A fast-growing and excellent comments section follows.
The comments section reminds me that I need to write an updated piece on what kind of claims a monogamous relationship can reasonably make on one’s eyes — and on one’s fantasy life.
I wanted to comment on ‘The Martha Complex–perfectionism in adolescent girls’, but comments are now closed for that piece. Sorry, I didn’t see it till today.
Your piece speaks of young women who are afraid that if they don’t knock themselves out trying to be perfect, no man will love them. I am living proof that this is true. I gave up trying to be perfect years ago, and today I am 40 and alone. Not currently alone, not in-between-boyfriends alone. ALONE.
Not that I haven’t tried. As soon as I escaped my hellhole of a small rural town and moved into the Big City, I signed up for a bunch of those dating websites (they were free back then). Number of men I met with face-to-face over a 2-year period: More than 20. Number of men I saw again after that initial meeting: 2. Number of men I became romantically involved with: 0. And number of men I’m still in contact with: again, 0.
I tried to be open. I tried to be warm and friendly and fun. I tried not to be “clingy”. Honestly, I was new in town and didn’t know many people, and I wanted to meet people to hang out & have fun with, and see if something clicked. But apparently there are too many men out there who believe if a woman isn’t worth boinking, she isn’t worth knowing.
I’m not the most attractive woman in the world, but I’m not ugly. I’ve seen women far uglier than I am with boyfriends. Smarter than me, dumber than me, bitchier than me, skinnier than me, fatter than me, just about anything ____than me, all of whom manage to find relationships. I can only conclude that either these imperfect women are settling for whatever they can find or there is something so horribly wrong with me that no one could possibly love me.
Mind you, I am not expecting perfection. I am not perfect, so I have no right to expect something I can’t offer in return. But the fact that I am willing to accept a less-than-perfect man does not mean I am willing to accept neglect, disrespect, or abuse. There is a difference, and despite what some of you might be thinking right now, I fully understand this difference.
I live near an amazing city where amazing things happen, and while I’m not obscenely wealthy, I have enough money to treat myself occasionally to some amazing events. And yet I have no one with whom to share these experiences. I spend every holiday alone, and rarely does a day go by when I don’t break down and cry over the ever-increasing likelihood that I might never find anyone. I don’t even care about the sex anymore. I weep over never having a reason to say “Honey, I’m home”. Over never having someone to curl up in bed with on a cold winter night. Over never being able to snuggle under a blanket on the couch and split a bag of popcorn while watching a movie.
So for any young women out there reading this, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that yes, the fact that you are imperfect might just prevent you from ever finding a mate. The even worse news is that no matter how hard you try, you can NEVER be perfect. No one can. But the good news is that there are things in this world that are far worse than not having someone to love. Being with someone who treats you like crap is worse. Being with someone who treats you like crap by physically/sexually/verbally/emotionally abusing you is far worse. Wasting your energy on pretending to be someone you’re not is worse. And starving/purging yourself in order to attain a “perfect” body is much worse.
I don’t know if these words will help anyone out there, but I put them here to share. Just don’t tell me to go into therapy. I’m smarter and saner than most of the therapists I know, and honestly–I don’t want to know. If there’s something about me that’s so horrible and awful that would make me deserve to spend my life alone and unloved, I really don’t want to know what it is.