A man came up to me the other day. Spoiler alert - he was a bit drunk...so take into consideration...I was at the fair watching Midland play. (They were really good - by the way). His first approach was to ask me to dance, which was weird because no one else there was dancing - I mean people were swaying in place with others but no one would call it dancing. He wanted to two step with me.
First of all, this bothered me on several levels. One he was drunk and while not sloppy, it was unattractive. Two, there was no one else two stepping so we would be the only ones in a very crowded stadium (I do not like that kind of attention most especially when I do not know what I am doing - and it seems ridiculous that one should not know how to two step - it is literally two steps...but there I was). Three, he would want to lead and that is just one area of my life that I have had so much trouble giving up control. I don’t want a man to lead me around the dance floor...I will do it myself thanks.
Now I know there is likely some healing work on my part to be done here. I have control issues, I see them and I am actually working on them. But asking me to turn my body over to be lead around by a drunk, strange man is just asking way too fucking much. My answer was an emphatic NO!
He was brave enough to stick around after my rather brutal rejection of his two step dance request. We had a nice chat...except for the part when he talked about himself the entire time. I took this two ways: one he wanted me to know all the fantastic things about him so that I would consent to two stepping and it also made me feel like if at the first interaction with this man, all he can do is talk about himself, this is headed nowhere good.
But the thing that completely killed it for me, was that during his long winded monologue that I could only hear pieces of because WE WERE AT A CONCERT and were standing next to the stage, at one point in time he said “you are cute!” I know he meant it as a compliment and he would not ever know this (I mean I guess he could have if he would of asked me one question about myself) is that I hate being called cute. It is a word that should be resigned to babies and little goats. If I say a guy is cute, that is damning with faint praise. And I believe that cuts both ways. But it also hits me on a different level.
Read on if you dare but this is going to not likely paint me very well...
I do not want to be cute. Like ever. I want to be deadly or beautiful or deadly beautiful or beautifully deadly...so cute will always kind of be a slap in the face to me...and so it was this night.
Here is this guy, drunk enough to have the courage to walk up to me and engage. I give him props for that. Most guys wouldn’t dare! So he piqued my interest in his boldness. But then my interest quickly faded when he requested to pull me in close to him to dance the two step in a crowded fair ground music show. Now I will be the first to say if he looked like Brad Pitt, I would have completely made a total fool of myself and I am little ashamed to admit that. So my boundaries are not really set in stone...but to be fair, I don’t know any woman alive that would turn down Brad Pitt’s request to two step you ... well anywhere.
After listening to him talk about himself I drew the following conclusions:
He drank a lot and too much often.
He made up for his drinking by exercising compulsively.
He owned his own home (he told me it was paid off no less than three times - this is a weird California thing - this is not the first man that tried to woo me by flaunting his monetary and financial success - which makes me sad because it must work - just not with me - I really don’t care about your success or finances - they aren’t mine so why should I care?)
He had problems with his mother - like a lot of them and she was now dead so...
He had had many careers - which to me sounded like he had emotional issues or addiction issues. I mean how many times can one reinvent themselves before it is just a cover for an inability to be stable and show up?
He was waiting on a patent application - wait, no, he hadn’t actually applied yet but he had this great idea...he wouldn’t know this partially because he never asked but also because there wasn’t really time for him to know this - I hate people who claim to have done something that they haven’t really done - Don’t fucking oversell me, dude. If you did it, GREAT! If you are just thinking about it, keep it to yourself until you have actually done it. I am so fucking over people taking credit for things that they thought about doing...
So we were not off to a good start - and in fairness to me, I was just there listening to the band. I wasn’t there to hook up or get a date. I was just doing what I do every beginning of August - attending the fair with my kids and listening to the free bands.
And then he told me I was cute. There were so many adjectives he could have grabbed: pretty, hot, beautiful, deadly, attractive, lovely, fetching (I totally would have gone out with him had he used that particular word just because the word choice would have been awesome), delightful, charming. Any of those would have fared him better than cute.
I do not know a woman alive over the age of 40 that wants to be called cute. I am not sure I even know any women under the age of 40 and over the age of 10 that wants to be called cute. It is such a diminutive word. The use of this word made me immediately feel like he was trying to make me feel inferior. Now, to give the poor guy a break, he probably was nervous and a little drunk, so he was just taking his shot and hadn’t thought this through...and if that is the case, maybe my indifference to his attempts are on me. But in a less than 10 minute interchange (he came back twice) the above is what I got from him...
Had he not used the word cute, or even commented on my appearance at all he would have fared better. Had he asked me more questions about me - the woman he was trying to get a date with - that might have helped. Had he held back some of the above things that were only cause for alarm for me, maybe I would have given him a different answer.
In the end, I just walked away. Feeling a little angry and kind of sad. I mean, he could be the best guy ever but I would never give him the chance because that is just how offensive the word cute is to a woman my age (or perhaps any age over 10).
I was depressed the rest of the night. Here is the single world in stark contrast - I don’t fare well out there because I am weird, particular and apparently kind of a bitch.
So I offer this rant to all the men out there who are single and see a woman that makes their heart race faster in the wild, please for the love of all that is holy, if you are going to take your shot - be bold, be kind, ask questions, listen to the answers to the questions you have posed, and for the love Christ, do not call this woman, this noble, amazing grown ass woman, cute. We don’t like it and it will likely get you slapped or at the very least, rejected.
Cuteness is condemnable unless you a kitten, puppy or baby goat...or a child. Cuteness is their world, not ours.
Rant now officially over...wait here is a photo for you to drive home the point about cuteness...
I look NOTHING like this...