Hair curled: check. Eyeliner applied: most definitely. Cab fare just in case? Yes. I confess I also skimmed an article in the Wall Street Journal in hopes of impressing my policy analyst date by brushing up on my knowledge of Portugal’s impending debt crisis.
When I knocked on the door of his five-star hotel room, I couldn’t help but be struck by the discrepancy between reality and what I envisioned in those two hours of getting ready for the date. Instead of him opening the door and receiving a warm reception, he gave me a quick hug and ushered me in. “Just one moment,” he said, motioning to the bed while he sat at the desk near the window. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I really have to get this report sent off—give me a few minutes.” He handed me the remote to the TV currently playing the BBC and implored me to change it to whatever station I wished. I gave a relaxed smile and told him how waiting was no problem at all. I took off my sandals and sat on the bed. While I certainly didn’t mind watching the BBC—in fact, most days I actively enjoy it—I didn’t exactly anticipate this picture as the start of the evening. For the next 30 minutes or so, I flipped between the BBC and Al Jazeera while he finished his briefing. I observed his furrowed brow and frantic typing on the keyboard of his laptop. While I had spent 45 minutes taming my unruly thick brown hair, he repeatedly ran his hands through his messy blond locks.
I smoothed my pressed silk dress and noticed his dress pants and sleek button-up shirt were sitting on his chair while he wore jeans and a rumpled white undershirt. It was in this moment that I scolded myself: A perfect resume does not necessarily indicate a perfect man, Catherine. You know this. Had another five minutes passed, I would have rescheduled the date entirely and walked out of the room. Every self-empowered relationship book geared towards women such as, “He’s Just Not That Into You” and “Why Men Love Bitches” indicate that, well, he’s not interested and wouldn’t think of doing this to his dream girl. But when he closed his laptop and apologized profusely for the delay, I decided to put aside my reservations and give the guy another chance. Thankfully, the rest of the date was filled with all of those witty remarks and introspective conversations I had wished prior to meeting him. At the end of the night, we parted ways and agreed to meet again the next day.
As I was thinking about the date the next day, I couldn’t shake what happened during that first half hour. I mulled over what it was that bothered me so much: yes, his actions were inarguably thoughtless and rude… but it was more than that. I realized it had everything to do with the way this very successful, attractive man prioritized. From this line of thought, I grew resentful and jealous. I had worked my ass off in the traditionally-masculine arena of business. I make an effort to overcome gender stereotypes—I play golf, ride a Harley Davidson, and pay very close attention to the words of affluent white men by reading The Economist. In spite of all of my efforts to prove that women are just as capable, just as even-keeled and successful as men, here I was… for all of my self-professed independence, I was waiting on a man. I embrace my femininity, I really do—I recognize how much better the world would be with more stereotypically feminine traits such as empathy and collectivism. But it was hard not to feel silly, all dolled up in my mascara and curled hair twiddling my thumbs for this guy to finish work at 8pm.
I don’t know why it is that most women can somehow extricate—and often prioritize—their love lives from work, whereas men typically have a harder time. It’s as if men link their identity to their job title. It’s not just me observing this trend, either: A 2009 New York Times* poll indicates men are more likely than women to feel ashamed over being unemployed. Of course there are ladies out there addicted to their Crackberries just as much as the guy in the three-piece suit sitting one cubicle over, but I for one admit to setting aside my work to go on dates instead. I am also quite traditionally-girly when it comes to my desire to make a home-cooked meal for a date, or give small presents. I'm even a sucker for leaving short, hand-written notes wishing him a great day. I basically break every rule of doing what a “self-empowered” woman should do in favor of a softer, gentler approach.
Maybe I should take a hard-line approach to my love life as much as I do with work. However, I can’t help but hope that there are men out there who genuinely want that doting, yet tough-as-nails woman. It’s for this reason you’ll find me passively waiting on a hotel bed, being hopelessly forgiving of my date’s apparent rudeness. Will my style pay off? I don’t know yet—date number two is tonight.
0 comments:
Post a Comment