There’s almost enough material on this site to enable me to begin four out of five posts with a quote from the archives, as I’m doing here:
Everybody plays the fool sometimes, as Cuba Gooding, Sr. used to say, but it was Woody Allen who played the Fool in Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex, and who, faced with a directive from his father’s ghost to seek sexual favors from Her Majesty the Queen, sputtered, “I can’t screw above my station!”
This is one of the few times in my existence I’ve actually empathized with a Woody Allen character; I assume by default that anyone who appears on my radar is out of my league, or at least in the wrong conference.
You know, if you were half as clever as you think you are, you’d realize that it’s just plain rude to flaunt your perceived superiority and belittle your date. They aren’t dumping you because of your mind, they are dumping you because of your caustic personality. I promise you, you are not smarter than every man out there. It’s just that those men are smart enough not to date a self-important, narcissistic bitch. You see, intelligent, confident women don’t need to wear their superiority like some kind of show-girl’s headdress. Nor do they need to tear people down to feel better about themselves.
Cue Lehrer’s Masochism Tango: clearly they’re getting some dates.
At the very least, she’s upfront about what she has to offer, and it’s up to you to decide whether she matches your particular priorities; rather a lot of folks hide their light under a bushel. (Ask me about my grain elevator.) She doesn’t happen to hit mine especially well, as it happens, but that’s hardly a reason to criticize someone. And while I tend to be wary of an elevated sense of self — rather a lot of people have defined themselves as Good while doing their best to hide from the advance of Evil — I suspect she’s closer to the Ayn Rand side of the spectrum, where love and romance are transactions like any other, and hey, it’s a tough market out there. Besides, I’m older than her target age group, and I suspect that the clash of dissimilar libidos would result in either heartbreak or heart attack, neither of which is on my list of Desired Outcomes. Still, I am a firm believer in holding out for what you want, and I can’t fault her for doing the same. Bottom line: I think I’d like her; I have no reason to think we ought to be dating.
But hey, that’s just me. Your mileage may vary. And my interest in these matters is, I remind you, purely academic.