I love reality television.
I also love anything that has to do with interpersonal relationships (dating, sex, marriage, co-workers, girlfriends, frenemies, and foes).
So it’s absolutely no surprise that I was totally drawn in as I tuned into the first episode of Miss Advised on Bravo. If you missed the show this week, it’s about three women, who give relationship advice in some professional way, all of whom are single. Funny, right?
My favorite character is, by far, Julia Allison. Julia has a personal list of 73 points that a man must meet in order to be considered husband material. Of course, her parents think this may be the reason she is still single. She’s just too picky (‘ya think?).
In a recent interview with The Gloss, Julia shares some more of her list.
#13: Strong & consistent emotionally
#29: Makes me feel secure and loved
#34: Would make a great dad – and wants to have kids
#39: Does good for others
#44: Loves learning
#59: Talented lover
To the slightly more … eccentric (hey! I was just dream-listing!)
#5: well-read / reads The Atlantic, Fast Company & WIRED
#28: Wants to live in a warm climate (preferably Palo Alto)
#33: Enjoys playing tennis, horseback riding, skiing, biking
#48: Can play piano or guitar or sing
This all got me to thinking… I had very low standards back when I was dating. And ladies, I’ve dated a lot of
men boys. A. Lot.
I’m pretty sure 90% of the many men I allowed to take me out (and sometimes take me to bed) were somehow unemployed after I used the “boyfriend” word. That’s not even an exaggeration. I paid for a lot of dates once they realized they could take advantage of me and quit their jobs. I was a… it pains me to say it, girls… a Sugar Momma. A Sugar Momma for complete losers.
As a matter of fact, I’d set the dating bar so low, that my dad actually paid me $1,000 to kick a former boyfriend out of my apartment. Dad hated it that I allowed him to move in, but he hated it more that he was openly cheating on me with Molly the Waitress, and I was actually putting up with it. I really thought I was in love with him. That is, until my dad put some cold-hard-cash in my hands. With my newly found funds, I suddenly found myself putting his clothes in garbage bags, throwing the garbage bags over the balcony, and watching them land in the yard (of my crappy apartment) below.
Then there was the guy that turned out to be gay. I can’t even make this stuff up. I was his beard. My friends warned me about him, and I refused to believe it. Until he finally confessed… I cried for a week. How could I not have seen all the signs? Video games at Matt’s house shouldn’t have always ended in a sleep over.
Oh, and how about the hoarder? I couldn’t even walk through his apartment. There were maggots in sink. Maggots. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t try to clean his house for him. I wasted a whole week of my life, playing exterminator, just to find out three months later that I really didn’t want to end up with someone who had pizza boxes stacked to his ceiling.
I even dated a guy that I had zero sexual attraction to. He was nice enough, but was a complete Momma’s Boy whose eyes were too far apart. And I didn’t just date him; I totally had sex with him (after I got drunk enough to not care about how he constantly compared me to his “Mommy”, and his fishy eyeballs suddenly seemed okay to me).
Once I was taken on a romantic “road trip”, where the dude fought with me the whole way about why college was a “terrible idea” for me, and left me in New York City to find himself a real woman (not “some stupid college kid”). Thanks a lot, asshat. I paid my way back home with every last cent I had to my name because I was too embarrassed to call my dad and tell him, “It’s happened to me again”.
At that point, I thought about becoming a lesbian, but I changed my mind because I can’t imagine how catty I would be in a relationship with another woman.
I had what my mother calls “lost puppy syndrome”. If you had issues – come to me, lay your head on my bosom, and allow me to stroke your sensitive ego for a minute. I’ll date you, feed you, give you blowies, and deal with all your garbage. Literally. I’ll clean your house for you (see above: hoarder).
When I began dating my totally awesome husband (who is sexy, witty, smart, had been a long time friend, keeps a job, has a gigantic penis, is loyal, straight, has normal eyes, and doesn’t have mommy or cheating issues) – I almost broke it off with him because he seemed “too nice for me”.
The bottom line is this, Julia Allison has 73 dating requirements and that might be extreme, but by golly, at least she has some standards. And there’s nothing wrong with respecting yourself, is there? I wish I’d made myself a list when I was dating. I wish I’d respected myself enough to care. Maybe I would have found Mr. Right a lot sooner since he was right in front of my face the whole time.
Have you ever forgot to set standards for yourself? Is this just a lack of self esteem that makes us do this? And if you had a list – what points would put on it?