Yesterday’s post drew more attention than I expected, and I guess it would be in order to address the issue of My Single Blessedness in a post. I try to avoid this sort of thing (I know it doesn’t look like it, but you’d be amazed the things that never get uploaded) because I have a well-founded suspicion that the rest of the world doesn’t share my fascination with the precise configurations of my emotional viscera.
I’m not upset with yesterday’s comments. Shoot, for a passive-aggressive like me, that kind of attention is like mother’s milk. But I want to explain the reasons why I’ve essentially given up on finding a soulmate.
I’m open to correction. I’ll tell you how the world looks to me. You tell me where I’m wrong. I’m self-aware enough to know that having an emotional disorder means precisely seeing the world wrong.
My perception is that women want “bad boys.” Not bad men. Very few women really want a bad man. But they want a man with something of the bad boy in him. They want all the proper things too, of course. They want him to be supportive and nurturing, and they want him to be a good provider and a good father. But they also want to know that now and then Rhett Butler will come out in the open, kiss them hard while they pummel his chest with their little fists, sweep them into his arms and carry them up the staircase. They yearn a bit for the motorcycle gangster, for Billy the Kid. (See my review of Shotgun Alley the other day, and the descriptions of nice guy Weiss and bad boy Bishop.)
I’m not a bad boy, Heaven help me. When a woman encounters me or any of my (fortunately few) eunuch brothers, she immediately reads, in our eyes and in our body language, that we possess all the thrill potential of a virtual checkers game. She sees the word “BORING” inscribed on our brows. If she’s generous enough to grant us a date, she quickly regrets it as the hours drag and she smiles stiffly and mentally composes excuses for an early escape. She knows instinctively that if she married such a man, she’d have to initiate intimacy herself, because he’s too emotionally fragile to run the risk of a physical rejection.
All in all, she’d rather treat herself to a day at the spa. Or just adopt a cat.
I do not blame her for this.
And if there is, out there, some woman who’s actively looking for a man who’d be easy to dominate, I don’t think I want to meet that woman.
True and yet not true. Most women deep down daydream at some point about the “bad boy” – though what most of us want is the bad boy that will turn into the good guy for (gak) love of that one special woman. I finally figured out that it’s like that horse that only one person can ride – if he turns good for me it means he REALLY loves me and I’m really insecure about my loveableness…but ANYway…
Those of us with a modicum of sense may dream about the bad guy – but we know we want and need the good guy. My husband is sweet, shy, calm, reserved, and extremely dependable son of a Baptist preacher. True – he’s also a trained killer of a Marine – but it’s not like he goes around the house shooting things and grunting.
Now you – you’re very smart, funny, extremely interesting – at least in print – and a Viking!! I think you’d be surprised at the woman who would find you attractive IF you let them get to know you. Now if your disorder keeps you from being yourself on a date…that is a problem.
We might have to go back to arranged marriages Lars; at least for Norwegians 🙂
The bad boy thing isn’t for everyone. I always thought Rhett Butler was scum. Especially in the book.
My husband empties the mouse traps. That’s all the bravado I need.
Don’t sell yourself short. My husband has an emotional disorder. And I am dreadfully avoidant. By grace, we survive. Somedays, we even thrive.
Don’t give up hope.
Broken women want bad boys. Broken women get bad boys. That simple equation explains much of the divorce rate in this country.
I’m a Boy Scout. My wife didn’t want a bad boy. She got the Boy Scout she wanted.
Despite books like Wild at Heart, a lot of men aren’t looking to get in touch with their inner barbarian. Or Viking.
Don’t sell yourself short, Lars.
Take it from a guy who’s been there – the only thing women don’t like about “avoidant” men is the avoiding. And it’s hard for me to imagine that the live steel combat thing doesn’t somehow reflect a bit of the “bad boy” in you – in the good sense, that is.
Several of my unmarried or “single again” girlfriends have the gift of singleness. They are bright, attractive, educated, financially independent and keep themselves busy and active in their church and community, but are not running down the aisle to marry. Their thinking, and maybe Lars thinking also, is that God is the “I AM”…meaning “I AM GOD,” “I AM” Enough…”I AM” sufficient…”I AM” plenty for you. Being married out of the will of God would be misery, but staying single within God’s will, while not always easy, should prove to be a blessing.
I have since thrown out the old saying….”there is a lid for every jar.” >grin< Omie, formerly married to the “bad boy.”
I second Michael’s comment. How can the Viking writer not have enough adventure in him for any reasonable gal?