I’ve said before that women – and their romantic preferences – change on a constant basis. We grow, we learn, and we evolve every single day. Sure, some of us make the same mistake twice, but after getting our hearts drop-kicked enough times, we usually see the pattern and resort to crisis intervention.
My list is constantly changing but one thing has become very clear to me lately. I am not attracted to socialites. You know the ones I’m talking about, ladies. He’s got to be at all the hottest parties ‘til 4 a.m. , no matter how heavy the bags under his eyes are. He has 3 million “friends” on MySpace. He needs to be on good terms with everyone all the time.
My ex, Andre was kind of like this, and I totally ate it up. I mean, it was attractive in college. Yay, I thought when I first started dating him, everyone is friends with this guy, so he must have a compassionate and warm personality! He’s in a fraternity, captain of the soccer team, straight A student, and has functional relationships with 100’s of people! Fantastic!
(Buzzer sound) Incorrect. From getting a real glimpse into his personality, as well as experiences with some other socialites I’ve briefly dated (ahem Max, from a few months ago, literally twitched if he couldn’t go to at least 2 club parties every weekend) I’ve come to the conclusion that all that socializing is about quantity, not quality.
I’ll be fair. Some guys are just nice and the fact that they have a large circle of friends doesn’t mean that they can’t handle intimacy. But truth be told, if you have your cell phone out on the table at dinner, I will judge you. But who am I point that “intimacy issues” finger at anyone?
I will readily admit that with my loving family, loyal best friends, and career-lust, I’m not in the biggest rush to open myself up to a new flame. Plus, I’ll text in a dude's face at dinner sometimes, if it’s with a VIP like one of my editors. My career is my boyfriend right now and every man who’s involved with me knows this firsthand. You have to earn your place, honey.
However, I am not a socialite. I love meeting people and making new friends but I’m very satisfied with having a handful of truly intimate friendships. And I’m selective about parties. If there isn’t going to be either some serious reggae music, amazing food or a work obligation, chances are I’d rather be eating chocolate chip pancakes in a diner with Esco and Priya on a Saturday night.
On that note, it’s kind of sexy to me when a man knows his own personal worth and is comfortable with himself. What’s even more sexy? When a man knows my worth.
“Yea, we can stop by the party but let’s dip out early and get some late dinner. I never get to spend enough one on one time with you.”
Some men can have the most amazing group social skills, but I’m most impressed when you say just the right thing to me, even if it’s not romantic. I’m talking about a line that can’t be used on any other female.
The other day I went to Ikea to look at some furniture with my friend, Jon. After we got into the car, I put on my favorite Rasta cap (you know, the bright-colored knit ones that men stuff their long dreadlocks in?). Anyway, I have no dreadlocks, but instead wild curly hair. And although I look like a total jackass in it, the cap is my favorite thing in the world. I looked at him and put on my silly grin.
“Look at me! I’m cute, right?” I asked.
“Hmm. Yes, definitely,” he said and reached over to tuck a wayward curl back into the cap. “You fill it out well.”
I felt my face get hot. And I don’t blush often. Everyone who knows my “I’m too skinny” insecurities knows that to say I fill anything out well is a major compliment. Jon pays attention. Once, he recited to me the exact outfit I was wearing on the evening he first met me three years ago. Black heels and a slinky taupe colored Guess cocktail dress with a black lace overlay.
Except he described the dress in guy language: “It went up to your knees and it was like you were naked. But you weren’t.” Well, I didn’t say he was articulate all the time.
Attention to details, gentlemen! It will get you into a lady’s heart (or panties) quicker than any amount of diamonds and roses.