by Emma Frisoni
Ever get the feeling you’re being too picky about a guy?
We were at La Voile, dining on whatever it is one eats when they go to a French restaurant. Tucker had ordered for both of us, in flawless French, so I had no idea what was on my plate. It was delicious though!
He had impeccable manners – brought me flowers, opened doors, pulled out my chair, etc. The conversation didn’t lack either, we debated President Obama’s first months in office (he: skeptical, me: impressed) and then the talk drifted to our childhood heroes (he: Superman me: She-ra Princess of Power).
Fast forward 2 days: A delivery of cupcakes from Party Favors and an invitation to dinner on Saturday night. I called Lanie right away so we could munch on fantastic cupcakes, sip pink prosecco and discuss The Problem.
What problem? Yes, there was one. I just didn’t feel it.
The butterflies, the excitement, all the things the princesses experience in the fairy tales we read as little girls and dream about as we grow up. It wasn’t there. He was intelligent, good looking, sweet and did all the things our ‘princes’ are supposed to do. But he wasn’t MY prince. Not for lack of trying, and certainly not because he wasn’t worthy, but because I didn’t feel those butterflies that ‘everyone’ talks about.
As Lanie and I munched our way towards a sugar high of monumental proportions, we pondered if the butterflies really meant something or if the fairy tales we dreamed of as girls had led us to a romantic lifetime of disappointment.
This wasn’t the first guy I’d stopped seeing because I didn’t feel the butterflies, but Tucker was the first ‘perfect’ guy I gave up for no apparent good reason. Since he wasn’t my prince, did that make him a frog? If so, did I cast off an intelligent, good looking sweet frog just because he was a frog?
As women, we’re conditioned to settle for nothing less than perfect. In some areas of life this makes us quite successful. (I still get compliments on those Chanel pumps I suffered a black eye for down in Filene’s Basement when that bitch claimed she had them first) In others, we become so engrossed in what society has taught us is ‘right’ that we look past the good guys and toward the unattainable.
The importance of “chemistry” in a relationship is something I wonder about often. How much do the sparks really matter in the end? Have you ever “settled” for a frog that later turned into a prince?
I’d love to know your thoughts!
photo credits: mait jurado, jay