You are way too critical

Okay...so I slacked a little bit on keeping up with this blog over Thanksgiving break. But I'm back and hopefully good things will follow.

I realize that I have been keeping this blog for over a month and have only gone on one date. That probably has something to do with the fact that I don't go out that often and when I do, I usually find something wrong with whatever guy I'm talking to. I'm picky, what's wrong with that?

On my way home from Columbia, I stopped in St. Louis to have lunch with a friend. He told me he'd been reading my blog so I asked him if he had any advice.

"Well," he said, "the only thing I thought when I read your post about your date was 'man, this girl is way to critical.'"

"I know," I said. "And I'm trying not to be so critical."

I have my reasons for being critical; most of them have nothing to do with the men that I meet, but have everything to do with me and my fears. However, over Thanksgiving break I realized that I am not the only female that has the bad habit of being too critical.

My cousin Erica is 24 and just started dating a guy named Wes. I hung out with Erica and Wes the night before Thanksgiving and the morning of before we ran our Turkey Day 8k. He seemed like a nice guy--a little on the quiet side at first, but so am I, so who cares. He was attractive--especially in Erica's roommate's running clothes (he decided to run last minute), and he had a small sense of humor. He has a good job and from what I could tell, he treats Erica really well (although there have been plenty of guys who have treated her well in the past, but obviously they're still not around).

After lunch on Thanksgiving, I was sitting by Erica on the couch listening to our family members banter about this and that and whatever else.

"Look at this text Wes just sent me," Erica said

Oh, by the way. i meant to tell you that you're hair looked nice

I gave Erica a quizzical stare.

"Why would he say that?"

"I don't know!" she said. "My hair was up in a ponytail the whole time."

"Weird."

"Well, maybe I did tell him that I got it colored or something, but it's not that big of a difference and I don't know why he would text me that."

"Yea, I guess he's just trying to compliment you but that's still a really random text message.

I got up and went to the kitchen to get something to drink. When I came back Aunt Denise was sitting in my seat beside Erica so I sat down next to my mom on the other couch.

"Oh! Hahahahaha!"

Aunt Denise was laughing. I glanced up to see her looking at Erica's phone with her hand over her mouth.

"Diane," she said to my mom, "did you see this text Wes sent Erica?"

"No," my mom said.

Aunt Denise read her the text.

"Isn't that weird?" she said. "Why would he send her a random text about her hair?"

"Uh oh Erica," said my mom, "be careful, he might be turning into one of those stalker boys again.

"He probably came into your room last night to look at it. I can imagine him now, stroking your head and saying 'its my precious (in the voice of Gollum).'"

Everyone laughed, and while my mom and aunt continued mocking Wes, something dawned on me: this poor guy was probably on the other end of this text message simply trying to be nice.

"Y'all, "I said, "we are so mean! Poor Wes probably thought it was a great idea to send her that text. He probably just wanted to pay her a compliment and here we are analyzing it and making fun of him."

Aunt Denise gave another little laugh burst and put her hand over her mouth.

"Ya know," she said. "You're probably right. Ha! He has no idea what we're doing."

Everyone laughed again and my mom continued her Gollumnesque impression.

Later, I thought about the text situation in relation to what my friend had told me at lunch. Girls really are too critical. It's like we look for things to be wrong with someone so we don't have to talk to them anymore. I wonder if guys are that critical. I can't imagine it, but I would hate it if the tables were turned and I was the one being made fun of all the time. Maybe it's time for us, as women, to stop being so particular and recognize that everyone man is going to have something wrong with him. Prince Charming does not exist, but some men out there are trying their best to be him. Maybe its time we give them a chance and recognize that we're no Cinderella either.