If you asked me a month ago what it took to get and keep a guy, I could have
told you. After all, it’s not as though I don’t have an expert education in the
field: from TV shows like “The Swan” to movies like “She’s All That” and “Ten
Things I Hate About You,” the message is clear. Self-improvement is the key.
Lose the glasses and get contacts – preferably tinted to a striking blue. Work
on your posture. Learn to speak well. Develop a variety of guy-friendly
interests. And of course, don’t neglect your looks: your legs can be smoother,
firmer, tanner; your hair longer, blonder, more silky. It’s all available: all
you need to do is just work a little harder at fixing what’s wrong, and you’ll
win “the one” and capture your own fairy-tale ending.
If you asked me what it took NOW, though, I wouldn’t know what to say.
Why? Well, it’s like this.
I belong to of a group of girlfriends – both married and single – who get
together regularly for dinner and drinks and gossip. A few weeks back, we
decided to take a longer trip. We booked ourselves a few rooms at a local resort
club outside of town.
On the first night, while we were relaxing after our drive from the city, a
couple entered the restaurant where we’d been eating. The pair was impossible to
ignore. The woman led, and when she paused in the entrance to the restaurant to
look for a table, the room fell silent. The eyes of every man in the place
tracked her progress from door to chair. This girl could have been the ‘after’
photograph for any imaginable procedure. Her teeth were Rembrandt white. Her
salon-tanned skin was L’Oreal smooth. Her legs were Bally sculpted. She was
perfect. Her escort, a taller man, followed her in.
She floated through the tables like a swan across a lake. Even her voice was
molten: she murmured excuse me's as she elegantly wove her way through the
restaurant. A smile here; a touch on the shoulder there . . . this woman had
obvious class.
When the two settled in at the table next to ours, my girlfriends and I shared a
round of glances. The blonde was more than a catch, and we were expecting a
display of fawning adoration from her boyfriend: her paramour was undoubtedly
going to hand her the evening on a silver platter. The group of us had a dinner
of bemused eye-rolling to look forward to, and we sat back to watch her wield
him from her pinky finger.
As the two started talking, though, our eyebrows shot upwards. We learned we
couldn’t have been more wrong.
Even if they’d not been so closely seated, it would have been hard to ignore
what was going on: neither made any attempt to lower their voices. And even if
they did, we had front row seats. Separated from their table by only a small
potted plant, we were treated to every word, and each of us held our breath as
the drama unfolded.
“Oh, Matt! I’ve gone out of my way to always appear attractive, to dress up and
look good to make your co-workers jealous,” she sobbed.
The situation was tragic. He was breaking off the relationship. The girl could
not understand what had gone wrong between them, and her soon-to-be-ex was not
saying. The young beauty kept on insisting, tears streaming down her beautiful
face, that she had done everything in her power to make the man happy. Her
chocolate brown eyes gazed at him in beseeching confusion.
“I’ve abandoned my old friends because you didn’t like them. I quit my job so I
could devote my life to you. Why are you leaving me? And here, of all places?
Why?”
It was painful to watch.
The man kept telling her, firmly and dispassionately, that he had moved on, and
that she should let him get on with his life. She kept pleading and crying,
until I actually wanted to get up and tell her, quietly, that she should leave
while she still had a shred of pride. Before I could do so, though, she stood,
leaving her drink untouched, and started from the restaurant. After a few
seconds, the cause of her misery followed. Needless to say we were stunned. We’d
just seen the impossible occur. We’d seen perfection kicked to the curb.
As it happens, the next day, while we were enjoying some of the amenities at the
resort, we saw the same guy accompanied by another lady.
They were walking together, gazing into each other's eyes and softly touching
each other's limbs. It was obvious they were lovers, and we watched, stunned, as
the two of them retired to a secluded table, where they proceeded to cuddle and
kiss.
We weren’t so much shocked by the audacity of the man (although it was a little
soon, we thought, to get involved with someone else just a day after the
breakup!), but by what his new paramour looked like. While his former girlfriend
was model-lovely, this lady didn’t have much going for her in the looks
department. How was it that THIS was the woman the guy had moved on to? While
well-dressed, her clothing couldn’t disguise her gaunt body. Too, she was far
less acquiescing than the blonde of the night before: she’d made him change
tables because she didn’t feel comfortable at the first.
Confused, we watched for a bit, unable to grasp that this obviously refined
gentleman had broken up with his earlier accommodating beauty – and had done so
in public! – for this less appealing creature. What had gone wrong? How was this
possible? What else could the beauty have done to keep him? Judging from their
conversation, it sounded as though she’d done everything right, yet even this
wasn’t enough. We were beyond puzzled.
Later, though, in the quietness of my own home, I found myself reflecting on the
incident. It hit me then I’d seen this happen time and time again: I’d watched
women alter their lives and looks in at attempt to please men, but have it all
work out for naught. I remembered a saying I’d once heard: “If a man really
wants you, nothing can keep him away; if he doesn’t want you, nothing you do or
don’t do can make him stay,” and it occurred to me that I’d never really
appreciated its wisdom before.
I started wondering what the point was of obsessing over looks and behaviour.
The young lady I’d seen in the restaurant had obviously gone out of her way to
look good, and had certainly succeeded. She’d contorted her very personality to
better fit with her boyfriend’s expectations. Still, the guy left her anyway,
and for someone decidedly more unusual. I started to wonder about what
“perfection” really meant, and what role it played in a woman’s ability to
“keep” a man. Even if you know exactly what he wants, and even if you’re able to
sculpt yourself to fit that image, nothing is guaranteed. Your plan might
backfire entirely.
So what did I get from all this? It might seem a depressing lesson, after all.
What if there really is nothing you can do to secure a relationship? Then what?
I realize, though, that this is the point: you don’t need to DO anything. You
don’t need to change yourself: in someone’s eyes you’re perfect as is. In
someone’s eyes you’re better than even the most drop-dead gorgeous model. You
don’t need to do anything more than be yourself. So if you asked me today what
it takes to get and keep a guy? Maybe I do know the answer.
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